Plopping down on my chair, I took a drink of bitter coffee, cringing at the taste. I sure as shit wasn’t drinking it for the flavor. I needed the caffeine kick. The only problem was that I’d had so much that my body had grown accustomed to the drug, and it wasn’t offering nearly the pick-me-up it used to.
I was through my coffee and had moved on to my bottle of orange juice and second bagel when Dr. Stowe called me to the morgue. If there was anyone spending more time at the precinct than me, it was our ME, Dr. Evelyn Stowe.
Covering a yawn, I pushed through the morgue doors. The cool air and chemical scent of disinfectant washed over me as I raised my voice enough to say, “Just me, Dr. Stowe.”
“Evelyn,” she corrected me for the hundredth time. Just like every other time, I ignored her.
“What have you got for me?” I leaned heavily on a nearby desk, arms folded as I twisted my neck this way and that. My body was tired of sitting all day.
Mimicking my stance, instead of a desk, Dr. Stowe leaned her body on a nearby counter. Her white jacket appeared more pristine than typical. Working with bones instead of flesh and blood was definitely easier on the cleaning bill.
“I’d like to say I’ve got a lot, but that would be stretching the truth.” Dr. Stowe sounded as tired as I felt.
“That implies there issomethingthough.”
Head hanging, Dr. Stowe held up her hand, tilting it back and forth. “I called you down to discuss our latest victims.”
“The males,” I clarified.
Dr. Stowe pushed off the counter, walking to a table with one of our victim’s bones laid out. To my untrained eye, the skeletonappeared complete. “John Doe number one. Age is twenty-five to thirty. Six foot one. Dark hair, Caucasian, teeth indicate good care and I suspect braces when he was younger. He does have two fillings.” Dr. Stowe pointed to some obvious knicks in the rib cage. “See those?”
I nodded. “I’ve seen marks like those before. Knife wound?”
“That or something equally as sharp. I’ll get impressions of the marks, see if they match up to any weapon that might be found later.”
“Is that the cause of death?”
“It seems likely. There’s staining on the bones. Our John Doe bled out. Given the location of the marks, I’d say the killer was very precise and had excellent aim. Straight to the heart.” Dr. Stowe made a jabbing motion with her arm. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. The ribs and sternum are there for a reason, and it’s to help protect the heart and lungs from things like this. Whoever did this had to have had a lot of strength.”
I wouldn’t call strangulation or suffocation a good way to die, but this sounded worse than what our original six ladies had gone through. “Anything else?”
Dr. Stowe pointed to the right hand. “Two fractured fingers—both old wounds and healed years ago. Otherwise, the skeletal remains are unremarkable.”
I jotted down Dr. Stowe’s remarks as I followed her to the next set of remains. I’d get an official report later, but given how much work our ME had on her hands, I wasn’t holding my breath and knew my tired brain wouldn’t remember without the written reminder.
The next twenty minutes passed in similar fashion, and I made notes for each body. We’d made it through two more—another Caucasian and one Latino—when my phone rang. I excused myself to take the call when I recognized the number.The timing wasn’t great, but rolling with changing plans was part and parcel of the job.
“That was the canine unit. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to cut our little skeletal show-and-tell short.” I pocketed my phone. “Looks like it’s a busy day for the cadaver-sniffing dog.” The county only had one, and we were lucky to have Bucky. Properly trained working dogs were costly.
Dr. Stowe waved me off. “Go on. The bones will still be here when you get back.” Running her fingers through her hair, Dr. Stowe’s shoulders slumped as she leaned heavily on the table containing body number four.
“I don’t mean to overstep, but you need to get some rest. God knows what we’ll find out there today, and given our current luck, we might get called out to a new scene.” I fought the bile creeping up my throat at the thought of more victims.
“If I were a witch, I’d curse you for even suggesting that.” Dr. Stowe’s narrowed eyes indicated she was dead serious.
“Lucky for me you’re human, just like me.”
“Pfft, human and charmed to the gills because of your fiancé,” Dr. Stowe teased. Pointedly looking at my pockets, she said, “When you’re packing that many, they’re difficult to hide.”
My laugh grated through my scratchy throat. “True enough, but I refuse to apologize.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, jangling the charms.
“Not asking you to. I’m more relieved than anything. Now, off with you. Don’t keep Bucky waiting.”
“I’ll talk with you later, Doc.”
“Evelyn,” Dr. Stowe shouted as I walked out the door, heading for my vehicle and our latest body dump scene.
I’d just pulled out on the road when my phone rang. I recognized the ringtone and answered immediately. As was typical, Warlock Holland spoke before I could offer even the barest of greetings. “Why is there an agent of the Magical UsageCouncil at my son’s home, and why am I just learning about it now, from Boone’s mother no less?”
