“Precisely my question.”
“Fortunately for you, this is a subject I’ve studied extensively over the years. Considering the angle a person would naturally hold a blade, which varies depending on their dominant hand, and how deep the blade went, I can confidently say, and would do so in a court of law, that I believe he held that blade on his own. He sliced his veins on his own. If someone held him down and did it for him, we wouldn’t expect to see the hesitation on his second wrist. If he was drugged prior, such details would show up in toxicology.”
“But you don’t have toxicology results yet.”
“Correct. But Idohave rapid testing results, none of which gave apositive reading for any such substance. If he was not drugged or incapacitated, then he was held down. Being held down would require multiple killers, and it would have left a significant mess in that bathroom. Whatever these hypothetical, multiple killers used to keep their target still would have marked the body, and these marks would have been discovered in the autopsy.” I look at Two again. “Ask the goon squad. They watched me work from start to finish, which was your intention. They’ll tell you there were no unusual bruises on this man, nor were there any puncture marks that would indicate chemical incapacitation—which, I repeat, would show up in most rapid tests anyway, and definitely during tox. I checked his eyes: there were no blown vessels suggesting a physical struggle. I checked his entire body: no broken bones. No scrapes, bumps, welts, or damage that would imply anything other than what was already presented to you.”
“Suicide?” He chews on the word, unimpressed. “You’d have me believe this man I’ve known since his infancy killed himself? Even when I don’t believe, from my own personal experiences with him, that he’s the type to do such a thing? His wife does not believe he would do such a thing. His colleague, Raphael Barbaro, the closest thing Anthony had to a best friend and brother, doesn’t agree that this is something Anthony would do.”
“You may be a powerful, business-minded individual, Estefan, and you may be all over the dealings in New York City, but you admit yourself, you were not aware of the women Anthony was trafficking right under your nose. If Raphael knew, I doubt he’d have abandoned such a lucrative shipment. That tells me neither of you knew Anthony as well as you think you did. And if that’s true, then you can’t confidently speak on his mental state or declare what he would or wouldn’t do in the face of his own mortality.”
“Chief Mayet?—”
“You came to me, Estefan. You asked formyprofessional opinion. My work here is complete, and my reportwillstate death by suicide. I certainly can’t force you to accept my findings, but I will request, for the last time, that you remove him from my facility immediately. I’ve done my best to maintain discretion in a difficult, undocumented situation, but the longer you leave him here, the less control we have over what happens next.”
“How long until you receive toxicology results?”
I drop my head back and close my eyes. I’m tempted to bash my skull against a brick wall. But that would be messy, and Archer isn’t likely toapprove. So I breathe instead—one in, one out. Two in, two out—then I open my eyes once more, snatch up my tweezers and scissors, and get back to work. “Months. There are simply too many cases for my tox lab to process, but more importantly, samples require time. To age… change… grow. Even if my lab prioritizedthiscase, they still need a week or two. You cannot rush science.”
“So you’ll have them prioritize this case, and in the meantime, Agosti stays inside your fridge.”
“Estefan!”
“I’m not asking, Chief. I’m telling. Get me the results. Finish this out.”
I pull my second-to-last suture away from my knee, snip the thread, and meet Two’s glassy eyes. “Call off my guard dogs. They’re causing issues with my staff and raising a million more questions than we can afford.”
“They’ll stay until Anthony leaves.”
“They can’t stay! They’re the most conspicuous statues I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t think I saw any of them take a bathroom break. They haven’t eaten. They hardly blink.”
“A glowing endorsement. One I’ll remember next time they ask for more money.”
I drag the last suture away from my skin, align my scissors, andsnipjust loud enough to force Two to gulp. “I’m calling Michelle.”
Cordoza snaps his lips closed, momentarily bested. “What?”
“She’s my friend, and she’d like to know if I was being treated unfairly or was the victim of constant harassment, especially due to matters that have nothing to do with me. It’s my understanding that you care for her.”
“Like my own child.”
“Mmhm. And she’swithchild now, right? Stress is not good for herorthe fetus.”
“Chief Mayet…”
“It would certainly cause her stress to hear of your current heavy-handedness.”
“A threat, Minka Mayet?”
Two’s spine straightens. His chest puffs wider. His entire demeanor changes.
Perhaps he’s readying to end my life.
“No threats here. It’s not my style. But we didn’t get a lot of time to chat on the weekend. I’m gaga for babies, ya know? And I’d love to catch up with her. If she asks how my day was, which is something friends do, I’m under no obligation to lie.”
The sound of Cordoza’s breathing is all I hear. The rhythmic in, out. In. Out.
Even the people on my end of this call, the techs who pack up for the day and prepare to leave, do so in silence.
