Preservation

by Charles Lemoine

  Mariska Stevenson. That’s what had changed. She’d entered his heart and mind, even though he hadn’t been ready for it to happen.

  “Detective?” Dr. Hernandez, the coroner, said. “You can come back and have a look if you’d like.”

  Why else would I be here?

  “Thanks,” Wulf said as he stood from the uncomfortable folding chair in the waiting room. He followed the doctor back into the autopsy lab.

  The smell immediately intensified. Strong chemical smells mixed with the odor of death.

  Gore.

  Dr. Hernandez pushed through the metal door into the autopsy room, Wulf following on his heels. Lying on the stainless-steel table was the body of the victim, Jane Bergstrom. Mariska’s former housekeeper was covered with a white plastic sheet, but sitting next to the table were metal bowls containing her organs.

  Wulf stepped around the table took in the site before him. The woman had met an untimely end, that was clear, but the Coroner had details to share.

  “What do you have for me, Doc?”

  “Cause of death, exsanguination. But the brutality of this attack has me stumped.”

  Wulf cocked his head to the side, looking at the woman, as the doctor slowly uncovered the body. “What do you mean? Stumped?”

  “This woman had been beaten,” he said, pointing to multiple bruises on her face, arms, and legs. “Both of her legs had been broken. You see here?” He pointed to marks in the middle of both lower legs.

  “Are those…?” Wulf leaned in for a better look.

  “Yeah, tread marks from the killer’s shoes.” The doctor shook his head. “Both her tibia and fibula were broken, mid-shaft. I’ve seen injuries like these in people who’ve been stomped or trampled to death. Either way, the sheer force it takes to cause a Tib-Fib fracture is incredible.”

  “So, the killer is strong.”

  “Yes, but I think it’s more than that.”

  “What do you mean?” Wulf cocked his head to the side.

  “When you look at her other injuries.” Dr. Hernandez pointed at her abdomen. “She was repeatedly stabbed in the abdomen. But no single stab would have killed her.”

  Wulf turned to the doctor. This woman had been tortured. But why?

  “That look on your face, Detective, is the same look I had. I couldn’t figure out why someone would torture this woman.” Dr. Hernandez walked around to the far side of the table, standing across from, Wulf. “Can you hand me the enterotome?”

  “The what?”

  “It’s the thing that looks like a long pair of scissors with a hook on one end of the blade.”

  Wulf found the instrument on the table and handed it across to the doctor.

  The doctor put the weird-shaped scissors into the long gash across Jane’s neck and opened them, effectively widening the gash. He then dug his gloved-fingers into the opening and pulled out a flap of human-tissue.

  “Is that her tongue?”

  “Precisely,” Dr. Hernandez said. “She was given a Columbian Neck-tie, which in the past had been referred to as an Italian Neck-tie.”

  “I remember when I first picked Mariska up after the attack and she was so hysterical. She told me the woman’s neck had been slashed, but I had no idea it was this bad.”

  “Terrible way to die.”

  Wulf shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Fuck. I need to find out more about this act…is it ritualistic?”

  “What’d you find out?” the doctor asked as he covered up the woman’s body.

  “Basically, it’s used as a way to intimidate and control the victim’s family or associates. Symbolic of teaching someone a lesson. But it’s also as a way to show someone either snitched or wouldn’t give up information.” Wulf crossed his arms. “Clearly, this woman wasn’t a snitch. My guess is she was roughed up and tortured to make her talk. Whoever did this, wanted…needed, information. And, either Jane Bergstrom didn’t know the answer or wouldn’t give it…either way, she didn’t give anything up and suffered for it.”

  “Do you have any idea what the killer wanted to know? From what I’d been told, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time…didn’t live in the apartment where she was found.”

  “That’s correct,” Wulf said. “I don’t know for certain, but I have a pretty good idea.”

  How am I going to keep Mariska safe?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mariska sat in her car for a couple minutes outside her family’s home. The sun had begun to set, and the beautiful orange and reds glowed over the ocean in the distance. What was she going to say to her parents about Jane? They were doing to ask her questions. There was nothing she wanted more than for all of this to have been a bad dream, but it was real—too real. With a pit in her stomach that she couldn’t wish away, she opened the car door and went to the front door.

  Reaching for the doorbell, she suddenly realized, even this was going to be different. Jane was no longer there to answer the door or greet her with wide open arms and a smile that cured anything that ailed her. The pit in her belly deepened, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

  The normally pleasant door-chime seemed hollow and scratched at her nerves. A few moments passed with no sign of life. Should she have called ahead? If she had, Mariska would have come up with a thousand and one reasons not to show. She checked the time on her phone. Her parents weren’t the going out late type people and were generally a couple of homebodies. They should be here. An unexpected panic started rising inside. Had something happened to them, too? She hadn’t heard from them since the night Jane was murdered. They’d called and messaged her, but she hadn’t really spoken with them. They’d been silent, since.

  She fished into her bag for the key when the door made a click. Oh, thank goodness someone was home—alive. The door swung open, and her mom stood there, a living, breathing, zombie of her normal self. Her eyes were sunken, her face pale. Normally, whenever she saw Mariska, her eyes lit up, full of life, but not this time.

  “Mom?” Mariska took a step toward her, arms widening into the offer of an embrace.

  Leah’s expression didn’t change, but she brought a crumpled tissue to her eyes and dabbed away the tears. It wasn’t until Mariska wrapped her arms around her mom that she felt her tremble.

  “Oh, Mariska…I can’t…” Leah let out a sigh that ended in a series of sobs.

  Mariska squeezed her tight, slowly rocking back and forth as her mom softened. Seconds later Leah melted into Mariska’s arms, and she soon shared in the heartache. Back and forth, in the doorway, they rocked from side to side. Mariska kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair down in the back, soothing her the only way she knew how—the same way her mom…and Jane had soothed her as a child.

  They released each other and Mariska closed the door behind them. Leah held her hand and led her through the entryway and into the sitting room. On the sofa, Mariska sat next to her while they held hands in silence. Every few minutes Leah used a crumpled tissue to wipe the ever-present tears from her cheeks.

  “Is Dad home?”

  Leah nodded. “He should be down in a minute. We saw your car in the driveway for a few minutes before you rang the doorbell. We weren’t sure you were going to come inside.”

  Mariska kissed her mom’s hands. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was going to either.”

  Their eyes locked and Mariska knew she felt her sadness despite the lack of outward emotion. Mariska had always battled hard to remain in control of her emotions and seldom had her family seen her lose control of them. Tears flowed down Leah’s cheeks, her bloodshot eyes swollen, and her nose began to run.

  Mariska spotted a box of tissues on the end table. “You’re going to need a fresh tissue.” She jumped up and hurried to grab the box.

  “About time you decided to show up,” her father’s voice came from the doorway.

  She turned and saw her father standing there, hands on his hips, shoulders back, strong. Had she not k
nown him so well, she wouldn’t have even suspected he was hurting emotionally. But even his eyes were a bit puffy and red, no doubt from the tears of grief he was feeling.

  Mariska ran to her dad and threw her arms around him. She breathed in his smell and nearly lost control of her pent-up sadness. She squeezed him snug around the midsection, and his arms closed around her, but he didn’t tighten his hold on her. A hardness in him wasn’t melting away like it had with her mom. He was hurting, but he was mad…at her. She pulled away and looked up at him.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad.” She held one of his hands in hers. His arms remained limp, disinterested in her apology.

  “Your mother was extremely worried about you.” He pulled his hand free and stepped around her on his way to join Leah on the sofa.

  “I’m—” Mariska started to apologize once again, but her father interrupted.

  “Sorry? Yeah, you’ve said that already. But where were you when we needed you?”

  Mariska went to answer but stopped when she saw her dad’s hand come up. “Jane was murdered…in your apartment. Do you have any idea how scared we were? How upset?”

  Mariska didn’t answer, simply nodded.

  “No, I don’t think you do,” Robert continued. “We got an unexpected knock at the door from the police telling us Jane was found dead in your apartment. When we inquired about you, they told us there’d been a struggle…” His voice caught in his throat, and it nearly tore her heart out. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. His finger now pointed directly at Mariska. “You should have come home to us right away. We needed you, and I know you needed us. How dare you…”

  Mariska knew he was right and she hated herself for her own selfish weakness.

  Leah’s hand came up and pulled her husband’s hand back down on his lap. Mariska didn’t know what to say or do. She’d never seen her father this upset with her. The disappointment and distrust in his eyes and the anger in his voice pierced her like a spear through the heart. She was losing control. Her hands shook, and her knees grew wobbly. If she didn’t sit, she would fall. Looking for a place to land, she took two steps and fell into a chair. Unable to look at her parents she buried her head in her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Mariska said. “I’m so, so, sorry.” She shook her head and clenched fists full of her hair, tugging at it.

  She heard her mom say, “Robert.”

  Without looking, Mariska knew they were on their way to comfort her. She felt like a horrible daughter. She didn’t deserve their forgiveness, but she desperately wanted it. Within seconds, she felt her mom and dad’s arms wrapped around her, their bodies covering her in a collective embrace. Their sobs shook her but didn’t move her own suppressed emotions. Mariska uncovered her face and wiped the bangs from her sweaty face. Her parents knelt around her, Leah holding her hands, Robert’s hands on her knees. Mariska fell into her father’s arms and hugged him, then her mom. She kissed her mom’s tear-dampened cheeks.

  “I really am so sorry.”

  “We, know,” Leah said as she looked at her husband. He nodded and gave a reassuring, but flat smile.

  It was getting late, and after all the emotional turmoil, Mariska yawned. Her mom and dad stood and offered Mariska a hand. She took it and got up from the chair. The three of them walked into the kitchen together, and her mom started to make some hot chocolate. Something that always soothed her before bedtime as a kid. Robert went over and sat on the barstool in front of the kitchen island. Mariska joined him. They watched in silence as Leah heated the milk on the stove.

  “We need to work hard to put this awful tragedy behind us, so we can heal as a family,” Robert said. Leah turned and nodded her agreement, although the sadness in her eyes was clear. “Jane will never be forgotten. She was a part of this family and will always have a place in it. We’ve already started funeral arrangements, and her burial plot will be next to ours.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Mariska said, a round of fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t think I can ever get the image of what I saw out of my mind.” She shook her head and clamped her eyes shut. Sobs wracked her body before her dad put a soothing hand on her back, pulling her into a hug. After a few moments, she sat back up and wiped away the tears. “I think I will need to throw myself back into work. It’ll be a much-needed distraction. So, once we find the La Brea Woman, I can be reinstated at the museum.”

  Leah dropped the spoon she’d been stirring the milk with and let out a soft cry when it hit the floor with a clang. Mariska jumped up and ran around the side of the island and picked it up for her.

  “Are you, okay?” Mariska said. Her mom’s worried expression aimed at Robert drew Mariska’s attention back and forth between her parents.

  Robert slapped the granite countertop and stood. “Enough.”

  Mariska flinched at her dad’s outburst.

  “Robert,” Leah said.

  Mariska looked from her mom and then back to her dad. She’d missed something. Her parents passed a silent message between them, and her mom turned back to the stove and turned off the burner.

  “What’s going on?” Mariska asked, but her mom turned and left the kitchen without uttering another word.

  “Have a seat,” Robert said, pulling out the barstool for her to sit in. “We need to talk.”

  Mariska took a seat and waited to hear what he had to say.

  “Your mother and I have been talking. We love you more than anything in this world, but we cannot allow you to continue this utterly ridiculous pursuit.”

  “Utterly ridiculous?”

  “The La Brea Woman.”

  “What about her?” Mariska went to stand up.

  “Sit,” he said and tapped a finger on the island countertop. She sat, and he continued. “We have decided that we can no longer support you in your pursuit of answers. We understand your need to learn about her…considering how little you know about your own past.”

  Mariska knew his words hurt him to say. Her parents hated to acknowledge they weren’t her biological family, despite the obviousness of it. She never felt anything other than love and support from them and loved them as her parents, but it was clear it bothered them when confronted about it.

  “Dad, I need to find her.”

  “Why? Why do you need to put your life at risk? Why do other people in your life need to get hurt…” his voice caught in his throat again as his emotions began to rise. “Give me a reason that makes this all worth it.”

  Mariska went to answer, but her words went missing. Lost to emotion and her rising self-doubt. “Because…I have to.”

  Robert let out a long, slow breath through his nose. “In that case, we have to do this. As long as you are pursuing this dangerous and unnecessary goal, we will no longer be able to support you. As much as it kills us to tell you this, we will cut off financial support as well as ask you not to return to our home.”

  “I can’t come home?” Mariska felt like she’d been punched in the gut, feeling instantly nauseous. “You’re disowning me?”

  The pain in his eyes was obvious, but he continued. “We cannot support your need to get yourself killed, and I cannot risk your mother’s life so you can find the remains of a woman who’s already dead. Dead, Mariska. This person you’re looking for is dead…for thousands of years. Your mother and I are here in the now. Aren’t we enough for you? Haven’t we given you everything you’ve ever wanted?”

  “Of course. You’ve both been the best parents I could have ever had. But this had nothing to do with you. I need to do this for me.” She shook her head. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Robert threw his hand up in the air. “Great. It’s settled then. You can stay the night, tonight, but then you’re going to need to leave. When you’ve finished following this foolhardy pursuit, you can come back.” He turned to leave the kitchen, but stopped and looked back at her. “I only hope you will see the error in your ways before you get yourself hurt. Your mother and I can’
t sit around and watch you do this to yourself.”

  Mariska’s shoulders drooped as her father walked away. She put her head in her hands and clamped her eyes shut. Her apartment was still roped off by the police and wouldn’t be available until tomorrow. But there was no way she was going to stay here.

  Fighting the urge to run upstairs and beg for her parents’ forgiveness and for them to understand why she needed to find the La Brea Woman, she tiptoed over to the stairway and looked up. The entire upstairs landing was deserted. Nothing, but darkness looked back.

  She turned and took in the room. Would she ever be back? It would depend on if she survived everything she planned on doing. Running back into the kitchen, she pulled her purse up from the barstool and headed out the front door. Sending a text requesting asylum wasn’t what she’d wanted to do, but at this point, she didn’t have another choice. What had been done, was done.

  “Please forgive me,” Mariska said out loud as she drove away from her parents’ home. She watched it slowly disappear in the distance, and a new feeling settled deep into her gut. Mariska was now completely on her own. Despite knowing she had credit cards and a savings account to fall back on, she really needed a hug. She swallowed hard to stave off the coming tears. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, she let it out slow and steady. The one person she needed right now was Jane and that was forever an impossibility. I love you, Jane.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mariska sat in Chief Peter Grassland’s living room. His house wasn’t a mansion in the outskirts of town, like Kathy’s or Ingrid’s had been. However, it was grand in its own right. When she’d first arrived, she walked right up to the front door. There hadn’t been a gate or security guard to greet her.

  The five-thousand square foot, white, two-story Spanish-styled home sat in the middle of a six-acre patch of land that was sought-after by every developer in the area. Or, at least that’s what Theresa had told her when she’d called to get directions to the estate. When Theresa had mentioned it was in the heart of Beverly Hills, Mariska couldn’t have imagined it. From the main street, the turnoff to get there wasn’t well-marked, and if you weren’t familiar with the area, you’d never know it was even there.