“Maybe we should use our pass for the Ferris Wheel now,” Scottie suggested.
“Sure,” she agreed, and they turned in their skates. She pulled her hood back up over her head as they got in line for the Ferris Wheel.
When it was their turn, they lucked out and got a compartment all to themselves. Warm air pipped through the ventilation ducts made the ride cozy, and Harley leaned into Scottie’s side as he wrapped his arm around her as they sat on the cushioned bench seat as the wheel slowly began to turn taking them high above the Chicago night skyline and she closed her eyes.
“This has been the perfect evening, almost,” she whispered. “If it was any other time.”
“I know what you mean, honey,” he replied.
She grabbed his hand and held onto it tightly. “If only this nightmare would end and we could magically go back to before the night of the exhibition game.”
Scottie swallowed and stared out into the night. Understanding exactly what she meant.Before he’d killed her brother.
CHAPTER 7
The shrill ringingof the phone woke Brand from a sound sleep the next morning and he grabbed it before it woke Carly. “Chambers,” he barked softly crawling out of bed and leaving the room.
“Hawkeye here,” Commander Burns said. “The Medical Examiner has discovered something. He wants to see me in autopsy immediately. I’d like you there as lead on this task force investigation.”
Brand glanced at the digital clock on the microwave display in their kitchen and registered the time as 5:36 a.m. “Are you at the station already?”
“Negative. Heading there in five.”
“I’ll meet you there in then,” Brand said. “Let me get dressed.”
“Take your time,” Hawkeye said before the line went dead.
Brand pushed start on the coffee maker and went back to the bedroom. The bathroom light was on and the water in the shower was running. Carly came out and she smiled at him. “It should be warm for you.”
“Thanks, babe.” He kissed her temple and rubbed her tummy before she crawled back into bed and the warmth of the covers.
He was in and out of the shower in two minutes, then dressed, shaved and was out the door in three more. The biting cold of the morning blistered away any remaining weariness and he was glad he filled his insulated mug with coffee before leaving the kitchen. Inside the vehicle, he thanked the SUV gods for the seat warmer that kept his butt comfortable as he drove through the dark and deserted streets of Chicago to the police department.
When he arrived, he found Hawkeye just getting out of his vehicle and they walked to the elevator taking it to the Medical Examiner’s office.
“Did he give you any indication as to what he found?” Brand asked.
“Not a clue,” Hawkeye said. “He only mentioned I’d never guess in a million years what he’d discovered that I’d have to see it for myself.”
“He obviously has been working all night on Flynn’s autopsy, or he wouldn’t have called you so early,” Brand observed.
Hawkeye nodded as the elevator doors slid open and they got off. “That was my conclusion as well.”
The spell of formaldehyde hung in the air like a bad air freshener and got worse as they walked down the hall. Hawkeye took out a small screw top container from his coat pocket and offered Brand some and they spread a little of the salve below their noses. Then Brand punched in the code and the autopsy sliding doors opened, allowing them to enter.
“Morning, gentlemen,” the Medical Examiner called, not bothering to look up from the body he was elbow deep into examining.
“Good morning, Dr. Holland,” Hawkeye said. “You said on the phone you had discovered something I had to see for myself.”
“I did,” the short statured man in his mid-fifties said, stepping off the stool that allowed him to dig inside the body easier. He stepped on the floor pedal under the free-standing sink basin, turning on the water, and washed his gloved covered arms and hands. Then removed the soiled plastic covering, tossing them into the trash.
“Follow me over to exam table number three where Officer Flynn has been in residence this evening, although I suppose it is morning now,” Holland said. “I was most surprised when I opened him up and discovered his stomach was nothing but a gut full of brown goo. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“No idea,” Brand declared.
“Enlighten us,” Hawkeye added.
“And it wasn’t only in his gut, but in his small intestines too,” Holland continued. “Although it wasn’t a solid state by then, it was what medical experts refer to as chyme, a liquid mixture. He must have lived on peanut butter for it to have still been in his small intestines at the time of death.” He showed them what looked like a ladle with the goo in it.
