More Than a Lawman

by Anna J. Stewart

  Maybe it was knowing just like that night fifteen years ago, he wasn’t going to let her stop fighting.

  “Not that I’m up for a jaunt through the emergency room,” she added with a strained laugh. “Let’s not get carried away.”

  The door at the end of the hallway swung open and Mona Hendrix strode down the hall, a stack of files clutched against her chest. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She pushed her thin-framed glasses higher up on her nose before tucking her silver bob-length hair behind her ear. “Apparently I’m more captivating than I realized. Dr. Landry’s students had more questions than I anticipated.”

  “I’m afraid to ask about what,” Cole said as Eden scrubbed her hands over her face again. If Mona noticed Eden had been crying, she didn’t let on.

  “You should be. Nothing like a room of inquisitive pathologists. Be still, my heart, the future looks bright.” She grimaced, but there was that telltale touch of humor Eden always found intriguing. She supposed being a medical examiner meant you had to have a sense of humor—if not an odd one. Talk about survival techniques. “I should be back in my office in the next couple of days if you want to stop by to view the bodies before we release them to their families.”

  “Thanks.” Eden hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and followed Mona into Dr. Landry’s office. She really hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. She’d gotten a pretty close-up look during their time together in the freezer. “Cole said he asked you to run—” The words dropped out of Eden’s brain as she gaped around the room. “What is this place?”

  “Insane, isn’t it?” Mona chuckled, paying no mind to the umpteen specimen jars filled with every type of preserved body type—from multiple species—lining the shelves of an otherwise elegantly decorated room. The bookcases were high-end, with recessed lighting and stuffed with books and medical instruments from throughout history. “I like to think if Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Frankenstein shared an office it would look like this.”

  “Whereas Mona’s office downtown is filled with daisies and gumdrops.” Cole took a seat across from Mona as she settled behind the desk and started tapping away on the computer.

  “Now, now, Cole. Be nice, otherwise I won’t admit your hunch was spot-on.” Mona dipped her chin and peered over her glasses much like a judgmental Sunday-school teacher. Eden made her way to the chair beside Cole.

  “About the blood?” Eden asked. “How so?”

  “It was the only thing all of them had in common,” Mona said. “It’s the only thing our killer took from each of them.”

  “What about the missing organs from the first three?” Eden asked. “Any guesses as to why he’d have taken from those victims and not the others?”

  “A learning curve? The spleen, liver and kidneys are all vital to the way blood traverses through the human body. Maybe he got what he needed from those.” Her arched brow was pointedly aimed at Eden. “Answering the why is going to be up to you, but I can confirm the what. They were all missing the same thing you were.” She folded her hands on the top of the desk and looked at Eden.

  “Blood.” The image she recalled in the parking lot burst into her mind. “So, what? You’re saying he’s some kind of wannabe vampire draining his victims?”

  “I’m not saying anything, although that would have been a clever way to hide what he was doing. Clearly your guy isn’t after headlines. But there’s only one puncture wound in each neck.” Mona tapped her finger against the side of her throat. “Right at the jugular. Neat and precise.”

  Eden rubbed her own neck when she felt a twinge of pain.

  “Here’s what’s interesting,” Mona continued. “Your jugular wasn’t tapped for blood, Eden. They found residual traces of that sedative around that injection mark. What blood he did siphon from you—a fraction of what was missing from the other victims—was from your arm. And that made me ask why. So I ran more tests and compared all the victims’ blood to yours.”

  “And you found something,” Cole said.

  “Would I have dragged you down here this morning if I hadn’t?” She hefted a soft-sided leather briefcase onto the desk and pulled out a stack of files, then pushed them toward Cole. “Copies of my findings along with each of your victims’ medical records. I requested them after all eleven blood samples revealed unusually high iron levels.”

  “Iron?” Eden asked. “I thought we were supposed to have iron?”

  “Some, yes, and while women are more prone to lower levels naturally, every one of the Iceman’s victims were definitely at the top of the scale. Some were even being treated for various health issues as a result.”

  “How common is that?” Cole asked.

  “High levels are more rare than low. A good percentage of the population is anemic, but that’s easily treatable with iron supplements and a healthy diet. DIOS, on the other hand—”

  “DIOS?” Eden asked.

  “Dysmetabolic iron overload syndrome.”

  “DIOS it is,” Cole said.

  “DIOS has a wide range of symptoms and related health issues. From osteoporosis to hair loss. It’s even been known to accelerate neurodegenerative diseases like early-onset Parkinson’s, MS and epilepsy.”

  Cole shifted in his seat. “One little mineral can do all that? What causes it?”

  “Environment in some cases. Recent studies have found a connection between lead levels and an increase in iron-related blood illnesses. Sometimes it’s as simple as losing the genetic jackpot. Certain ethnicities are more prone to the disorder than others. In any case, I believe you’ve found your common denominator where your victims are concerned.”

  “Why would someone be interested in iron in the blood?” Eden asked.

  “That would involve guessing and I deal in facts,” Mona said. “Cole just asked me to prove his theory. If no other commonalities could be found for these victims, and I couldn’t find any medically, this is what you’re left with.”

  “Maybe he’s some kind of lunatic who thinks other people’s blood gives him something?” Eden glanced at Cole. Not that it answered the whole freezing-the-bodies issue.

  “The vampire angle again?”

  “He’s pretty meticulous for someone that mentally disturbed.” Mona booted up her laptop. “First three victims aside, I’m finding very little trauma to the bodies. That’s not to say all those urban legends and myths about the supposed benefits of various minerals in human blood, iron included, aren’t coming into play, but to me, they read like test results. Or...”

  “Experiments.” Eden felt a piece of the puzzle click into place. “Could he be experimenting on these people? On their blood? Some of them had been dead for a while. If he was using them as test subjects that could account for this, right?”

  “It’s as good a guess as any. I also found evidence of long-term tissue damage. As if he kept them in varying temperatures over longer periods of time.”

  “Like a meat locker?” Cole glanced uneasily at Eden. “Is that how he finally killed them? He let them freeze to death?”

  “They died of massive blood loss, not hypothermia. Besides, that particular locker has backup temperature controls. Unless you’re inside one of those things for, say, thirty-six to forty-eight hours, you wouldn’t die from it. No.” Mona shook her head. “He was done with them before he stored them.”

  “He must have cold storage wherever he’s keeping the corpses. Another factor to look for.” Cole got out his phone and started making notes. “Okay, this will take us down a whole other avenue of investigation. Thanks, Mona.”

  “Wait.” Eden put a hand on Cole’s arm when he started to stand. “This still doesn’t explain how he finds and targets them. It’s not like we list our iron levels on our drivers’ licenses. Would anyone other than a medical professional have access to that information?”

  “In this day a
nd age, who knows?” Mona shrugged. “People share every aspect of their lives online. Might be you’re looking for a needle in a needle stack. But, given the lack of damage done to the bodies and the care that was taken, I wouldn’t exclude your killer having some medical training.”

  “At least now we have a needle to look for,” Cole said. “You wanted to start over with the victims, Eden. Now we have a real lead. I’ve also asked a friend in the missing persons department to give me an updated list every couple of days. I’m betting the Iceman’s not done.”

  “Unless he’s found what he was looking for.” Eden followed Cole and stood up.

  “Something tells me we won’t be that lucky,” Cole said. “Thanks, Mona.”

  “You bet. Keep me in the loop. And I’ll get the last of my reports to you as soon as I can.”

  “Out of curiosity...” Eden turned back at the door. “How were my test results?”

  “Peachy keen.” Mona grinned. “Nothing to worry about with you. Iron-wise, anyway. Be glad.” She picked up her folders again. “It probably saved your life.”

  * * *

  “You know if I have to stay here with nothing to do for hours on end, neither one of us is going to be happy.” Eden perched on the edge of Cole’s desk at the station and flicked her finger against the fuzzy yellow-haired troll in front of his computer screen. “You still have this guy?”

  “Some little brat gave that to me for Christmas one year.” He smacked her hand away. “Leave it alone.”

  “I wasn’t a brat. Very often,” she added. “Come on, Cole. You’ve got other cases you have to catch up on and I am bored out of my mind. I don’t even have my laptop with me. If you aren’t going to give me access to a computer—”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “—then at least let me go down to the lab and see if Tammy—”

  “Why do you owe her a bottle of tequila?” Cole leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

  “Um, for Cinco de Mayo?” She fluttered her lashes. She wasn’t sure their fragile truce could withstand the revelation she’d convinced Tammy to provide her with a list of stalled-out cases for the past five years so she’d have fodder for her blog. Cases, Eden had to admit, that had fallen by the wayside thanks to her focus on the Iceman.

  “Leave my techs alone, Eden. Just because you have an in with me doesn’t give you unfettered access.”

  “Then give me something to do. Or I’m going to start dancing on top of tables. Oh, hey, there’s an idea.” She jumped to her feet and made to climb onto his desk. “Remember when that actress flashed—”

  “Don’t you dare!” He was out of his chair so fast she almost didn’t see him. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her away from his desk, earning an enthusiastic response from his fellow cops. The whistles and catcalls had Eden thinking they should try out for that dancing reality show. “You’re going to make a spectacle of yourself if I don’t give in, aren’t you?”

  Eden squirmed against him, taking inordinate pleasure in watching his pupils contract. It would be interesting to see if their delayed interaction could withstand their attraction. Whatever they were trying to preserve friendship-wise seemed to have developed a serious crack in its foundation.

  “As much as I love all this togetherness—” she paused and pressed her hands flat against his chest and would have purred if she didn’t have another agenda “—if we don’t extend this tether I’m going to smother you in your sleep.” She moved in and stood eye to eye with him. Or make that nose to chin. “And remember, I know where your bedroom is.”

  His mouth twisted even as his eyes glinted with laughter. She loved finding new ways to play with him.

  “Let me go see if Simone’s free for lunch,” she pleaded. “She’s five blocks away, Cole. I’ll keep my phone on and even call in with hourly reports of my status.” The idea of actually experiencing sunshine for even a few minutes had her champing at the bit.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eden.” The reminder came in that deep, dangerous tone that sent chills racing down her spine.

  “I’ll be back here by three. That I will promise.” She held up her Girl Scout salute as if she’d been one.

  “What about that throng of reporters out front?” As if Cole needed to remind her she was still fodder for headlines and lead stories. She’d listened to at least a dozen voice mails asking her for televised interviews, most local but a few national. The idea had her swallowing hard. She just wanted to report the stories, not be the story.

  She dug into her bag for her sunglasses and tied her hair up. “Better?”

  “Yeah, you’ve completely disappeared.” Cole rolled his eyes. “Go out the side alley, okay? Plenty of cops around to keep an eye on you.”

  “You really believe he’d try something around here in broad daylight?”

  “Neither one of us knows what to believe about him, so I’m not ruling anything out. If you don’t like it, they loaded up new tuna sandwiches in the vending machines this morning.”

  “Ick. I’ll see you later.” Before he could change his mind, she hurried off. She spotted at least half a dozen uniformed officers milling about in the alley. She hadn’t realized how cooped up she’d felt, but the second that fresh-diesel-tinged air hit her lungs, something inside her broke free. Her normally brisk pace slowed. She savored every step. Though that didn’t stop her mind from racing circles around the Iceman.

  She stopped briefly at the newsstand on the corner, one of the last in the city, to pick up a copy of today’s Sacramento Tribune. Enjoying the sun’s beating rays, she flipped through the pages, even more convinced she’d made the right decision to let her paper run copies of her blog posts. Not to bring more attention to her abilities as a reporter and writer, but because there were still a few holdouts when it came to embracing technology. She knew of plenty of people who still got their news delivered to their front porch every morning, despite the fear that print was dying.

  Something her editor was struggling to overcome with his dedication to sensationalizing the smallest stories around town. Eden skimmed the articles on the struggling local basketball team she continued to root for; the prospects of an end to the construction moratorium in surrounding districts; the expansion plans for the rail yards; and the grand opening of a string of small businesses hoping to cash in on the recently built sports arena. And it was time for the firefighters’ annual blood drive. With more than a bit of relief, Eden noted her personal ordeal with the Iceman had been relegated to page three, replaced front and center with Benedict Russell’s surprisingly articulate write-up on a string of assaults and robberies in the Pocket area.

  “Huh. I guess miracles do happen.” She tucked the paper into her bag, turned and plowed right into another pedestrian. “Oh, sorry!”

  Her eyes watered as the smell of cotton candy assaulted her. She coughed, head spinning as she reached out and grabbed hold of the lamppost nearby, the ghostly sounds of childhood laughter echoing in her ears. “Chloe.” Her friend’s freckled face exploded in her mind, her face-stretching smile, the lilt of her voice. And the smell of the perfume Eden had bought Chloe for her birthday a few months before her death.

  Eden spun around, looking for whomever she’d collided with, but the afternoon lunch crowd had begun to emerge from buildings, hurrying this way and that.

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head to dislodge the scent and the memories. Coincidence, she told herself. Plenty of people wore sickly sweet perfumes, not that she’d ever had the scent of one slam her that far into the past before. The hair on her neck prickled. Lifting her sunglasses, she studied the other side of the street. Tightening her hold on her purse, she joined the crowd, scanning faces, glancing over her shoulder, unable to shake the sensation that someone—while maybe not following her—was watching her.

  Eden h
ad kept a low—a very low—profile ever since her abduction. Now she was beginning to scare herself. She’d been reacting these last few days; not acting as she normally did. No wonder she was out of sorts and imagining things. She chewed on her bottom lip, still unable to get the smell of hot sugar candy out of her mind.

  Maybe it was time to change the game again. Write a new blog, make another deal with her editor to run it with her old ones and maybe give serious consideration to returning some of those interview-request calls. At the very least she could chime in on those comments Cole thought were so fascinating. If she could get Cole to agree. She could just imagine—

  Eden stopped at the corner, letting the noonday sun bathe her in its warmth. Was she really going to consult Cole on her plan of action?

  Two days ago—heck, twenty-four hours ago—it wouldn’t have crossed her mind. She’d have dived in. But now...

  Going full bore wouldn’t only anger him. It could ruin the potential for...whatever it was they might have started.

  This was ridiculous. Since when did she let her emotions get in the way of what needed to be done? She didn’t take other people’s thoughts, other people’s feelings, into consideration.

  Eden dropped her head back and blinked into the sun, pushing the unease away with an even more unsettling thought. I’m sounding like a girlfriend. She clomped her way down the rest of the block, trudged through the glass doors to the criminal justice building, determined to get her thoughts—and unease—under control before she ventured into the all-seeing realm of Simone Armstrong.

  She signed in at the desk and gave the familiar security guard a weak wave as she headed for the stairs to the third floor, glancing one last time at the lobby before letting the door shut.

  Maybe burning off some excess energy would help her figure things out. Instead all the climb managed to do was remind her she needed to get her butt back to the gym.

  She pushed through the door into the DA’s department, where Simone’s office was located. As it was lunchtime, the place was fairly quiet. Hiking her glasses on top of her head, she wound through the maze of cubbies and came to a stop at Simone’s assistant’s desk.