by Alex Kava
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
She hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, feeling the exhaustion seep into her bones. She needed to ignore the strong urge to leave. To go home and curl up with Nick in front of a warm, crackling fire. But there was nothing Nick Morrelli could do to help her escape Stucky. These days Albert Stucky seemed to be in everything she touched and everyplace she went.
She looked back at the table with the woman’s gray body splayed open. Dr. Holmes was now removing organs, one by one, weighing and measuring them like a butcher preparing cuts of meat.
“Not easy having a life of your own in this business, is it?” He didn’t look up as he continued to cut.
“It’s certainly not a life for a dog. I’m never home. Poor Harvey.”
“Well, he’s still better off with you. From what I understand, Sidney Endicott is an idiot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had murdered his wife and stashed her body somewhere.”
“Is that the direction Manx is going?”
“I have no idea. Take a look at the muscle tissue here and here.” He pointed to the layers he had cut through.
Maggie only glanced at the area. She was wondering if the medical examiner realized that what he said regarding Mr. Endicott would be caught on tape. But what if he was right? Suddenly she realized Dr. Holmes was staring at her over his bifocals.
“I’m sorry, what was it you were looking at?”
He pointed again, and immediately she could see that there was hemorrhage in the muscle tissue. She leaned against the counter behind her and felt the anger swelling up inside her again.
“If there’s this much hemorrhage in the muscle tissue it has to mean—”
“Yes, I know,” she stopped him. “It means she was still alive when he started cutting her.”
He nodded and returned to his task, expertly tying string to each of the arteries as he cut, leaving generous lengths for the local mortician who would later use these same arteries when he or she injected the embalming fluids. Then with both hands, Dr. Holmes carefully scooped out the heart and set it on the scale. “Heart looks to be in good condition,” he said for the recorder. “Weight is 8.3 ounces.”
While he dunked the organ in a container of formaldehyde, Maggie took a closer look at the incision Stucky had made. Now that she could look into the body cavity, she could follow the path. His precision continued to amaze her. He had extracted the woman’s uterus and ovaries as though it had been a surgical procedure. On the counter at the other end of the room lay his handiwork, still enclosed in the plastic takeout container.
Dr. Holmes looked at what had drawn her attention. On his way back from the sink, he brought the container with him and set it on the table with their instruments. He flipped open the lid and began examining the contents.
The intercom on the wall buzzed, and Maggie jumped.
“It’s probably Detective Rosen. He said he’d stop by if they found anything.” He headed for the door, removing his gloves.
“Wait, are you sure? It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”
“Yep, it sure is,” he said. He smiled but didn’t wait to explain, instead turning the dead bolt without caution.
Maggie’s fingers dug into her gown, groping to get at her gun, but Dr. Holmes was already opening the door.
“Evening, Sam.”
“Hey, Doc.” Detective Rosen held up a couple of evidence bags with what looked like dirt in them. “Agent O’Dell, I think we found something kinda interesting.”
He handed her one of the Ziploc bags over the table. He glanced down at the body. It didn’t seem to bother him. She guessed that Rosen had seen his share of autopsies, which meant he hadn’t always belonged to the sheriff’s department.
She took and inspected the bag of dirt and immediately recognized it. There were bits of silver and yellow that sparkled under the bright fluorescent.
“Where did you find this?”
“On the side of the bin closest to the chain-link fence. There’s actually some metal rails, sorta like steps. We found muddy prints from shoes or boots. That’s probably how he was able to climb up and toss in her body. It faces away from the parking lot. No one would see him there.”
Rosen seemed excited with the discovery, and she wondered why. “Did you show this to Agent Tully?”
“Nope, not yet. But I figure this has gotta be a big break. It should lead us to where this guy has been hiding out.”
Maggie waited for the detective to explain. Now he seemed to be distracted by Dr. Holmes, or rather the bloody glob that Holmes was examining.
“Detective Rosen. Why do think this will lead us anywhere?”
“For one thing, it’s mud.” He stated the obvious as though he had uncovered a secret. When he realized she didn’t see the significance, he continued, “Well, it hasn’t rained for quite a while. Not around here anyway.”
She drummed her fingers on the counter, waiting for something more than this weather report. He opened one of the bags and pinched some of the dirt between his fingers.
“It’s a thick, sticky clay. Even smells a bit moldy. Again, nothing like we have around here.”
She could put an end to all of this by simply admitting she had seen the stuff before, that they had actually analyzed and broken it down. Instead, she let him go on.
“A couple of the guys who’ve lived here all their lives said they haven’t seen anything like this stuff before. Take a close look. It’s unusual, with bits of reddish rock, and that yellow and silvery crap is pretty weird…maybe even man-made.”
Finally, she confessed, “We have found similar dirt at two other crime scenes. It may be from a closed-down industrial site. We have several people trying to find a possible location.”
“Well, I think I can save you some time.”
She stared at him, growing more impatient with his cocky smile. He was wasting their time with this grandstanding.
“I think I know where this came from,” he said, pleased with himself despite Maggie’s look of skepticism. “I went fishing a couple of weekends ago. A little spot about fifty miles from here on the other side of the toll bridge. I ended up getting lost in this isolated wooded area. When I got home I noticed this sticky mud covering my boots. Took me almost two hours to clean them. The mud looked just like this crap. Couldn’t figure out what the hell that silver dust was.”
Now he had Maggie’s full attention. The area sounded exactly like someplace Stucky would hole up. Rosen was right. This could be their big break.
“Well, I hope this pans out,” Dr. Holmes interrupted, only now looking up from the contents of the plastic container. “This guy is one sick bastard. I think this woman may have tried appealing to him, hoping he had one ounce of human dignity in him.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie watched the medical examiner wipe his forehead, suddenly not caring that he smeared blood from his gloves to his face. The calm, experienced professional seemed visibly shaken.
“What is it?” she tried again.
“Might not be a coincidence that he chose to extract her uterus.” He stepped back from the table and shook his head. “This woman was pregnant.”
55
DETECTIVE Rosen had called and filled in the Newburgh Heights Police Department when they realized Hannah Messinger might have been taken from the liquor store. O’Dell had accompanied Dr. Holmes, and Rosen had stayed behind at the truck stop, gathering evidence, so Tully decided to accompany Manx and his men. After not being impressed with Manx’s foot-dragging on the McGowan case, Tully knew he should be here if any evidence showed up.
He waited for one of Manx’s officers to jimmy the lock on the back door. From this position in the alley, Tully recognized the back of Mama Mia’s Pizza Place on the corner. A shiny new Dumpster replaced the one they had found Jessica Beckwith in. Perhaps it was the owner’s way of getting rid of any memories. What would they think when they found that anoth
er woman had been murdered only several stores away?
“We tried to get hold of the owner,” Manx interrupted Tully’s thoughts. “He’s out of town, won’t be able to get back until late tomorrow. His wife said Messinger was taking care of things.”
Tully reached for his glasses and noticed the officer was making a mess of the door’s lock. Finally something clicked just as the door handle came loose and fell off.
Manx found a light switch and the entire shop lit up, aisle by aisle. It didn’t take much time to realize nothing seemed to be out of place. The cash register had been shut down and locked up. Even the Closed sign had been turned on. There was no indication of forced entrance.
“He may have grabbed her while she was walking to her car,” Manx said, scratching his head.
An officer took off to check the alley, while the other started rummaging through the storeroom.
“Rosen filled me in, told me about O’Dell.”
Tully stopped and glanced over at Manx from behind the counter. The detective’s bulldog features softened. He actually looked sympathetic, if that was possible.
“Now maybe you’ll understand,” Tully said, “why she’s been overly anxious about your investigation of the McGowan woman’s disappearance.”
“Well, I figure there might be a reason to rethink the Endicott case, too.” Manx hesitated as though making a major concession. “I’ve got copies of the case file for you in my car.”
“Detective,” the officer from the storeroom called out. He appeared at the door, his face pale and his eyes wide. “There’s a wine cellar below the storeroom. I think you better take a look.”
Tully followed Manx. They started down the narrow steps, only a bare lightbulb to guide the way. But Tully didn’t need to see anything to know they had found the murder site. No farther than the third or fourth step, he could smell the blood, and he knew his stomach was not ready for what was below.
56
HE COULDN’T believe she had escaped. How had she been able to unlock the door so easily? He should have felt disappointment rather than exhilaration. But even his fatigue would not deprive him of the thrill of a good hunt.
The night goggles seemed to make little difference. There was nothing to see. Where could that little cunt have wandered off to? He shouldn’t have left her unattended for so long, but he had been distracted with the cute brunette. She had been so thoughtful, just as she had been with Agent Maggie. She had taken her time, helping him pick out a nice bottle of wine, not minding that it was closing time. Yes, she had been most helpful, insisting he try the crisp, white Italian for his special occasion, not realizing that she herself would be the denouement of his special occasion.
But his little detour had taken its toll on him. He should have simply taken his prize and left her body in the cellar. At least then his muscles wouldn’t be aching. His eyes were having problems focusing. The red lines were appearing more frequently, or were the night goggles malfunctioning? He hated to think that his eyesight had gotten worse in less than a week.
He wandered through the woods, annoyed that he kept tripping over roots and slipping on the mud. He had to hand it to Tess McGowan. She had managed to hide herself quite nicely. But it wouldn’t last. He knew these woods like the back of his hand. There was no way for her to escape unless she was willing to swim. Funny, none of them ever attempted that.
As he climbed the ridge he hoped he wouldn’t find her with a broken neck at the bottom of some ravine. That would be a total waste. He was hoping she would make up for his disappointment in Rachel. She hadn’t lived up to his expectations at all. She had been such a flirt as long as she thought he was a lowly utility worker she could tease and control. She seemed to have so much vibrancy, yet she had whimpered like a helpless child when he was fucking her. It was pathetic. To make matters worse, she lasted less than a half hour when he released her into the woods.
He grabbed on to the vines and pulled himself up to the top of the ridge. Here he’d be able to look down and see for quite a distance. Nothing registered. There was no mass of heat that lit up his goggles. Where the hell had she gone?
Maybe he needed sleep more than he needed to punish Tess McGowan with a good fuck. With the familiar lethargy taking over his body, he didn’t need the added disappointment if he did find her and wasn’t able to…fuck her. He didn’t even want to think about that. No, he’d start again in the morning, when he had the energy and could enjoy a good hunt. He looped the rope over his shoulder, picked up the crossbow and headed back. Maybe he’d open that nice bottle of wine that Hannah had promised would delight him.
57
MAGGIE didn’t realize until she pulled into her drive that she had been on autopilot. She couldn’t remember winding along Highway 6 with its sharp curves and steep ditches. It was a wonder she had found her way.
Now she was glad Rosen had convinced her to wait until morning. How could she have thought to go hunting for Stucky in strange, dark woods in the middle of the night? Yet it had made plenty of sense only an hour ago. She had been prepared to stage a sneak attack, forgetting so quickly that she had lost the last one to Stucky. Why was it so easy for him to destroy all her common sense with a sweep of a hand, or rather a cut of his knife?
She knew the liquor store clerk must have pleaded with Stucky. Maggie could hear it in her head—when Hannah realized Stucky didn’t care, she must have begged for her unborn baby’s life. He would have laughed at her. Was that why he started cutting while she was still alive? Had he attempted to show her the unborn fetus? It would have been a new challenge to add to his repertoire of horror. It seemed grotesquely inconceivable, but, for Stucky, she knew it was not.
Maggie tried to shut out the images. She unlocked her door, and tried to be as quiet as possible. It had been a long time since she had come home to anyone or anything other than a dark, empty house. In the past several years she and Greg had become nothing more than roommates who left notes for each other. Or at least there had been notes in the beginning. Gradually, the only signs of double occupancy had been the unrecognizable underwear in the laundry room and the empty milk cartons.
The alarm system beeped only once before Maggie punched in the correct code. Immediately, she felt Harvey’s cold nose sniffing her. She reached out a hand, and his tongue found it.
Though the foyer was dark, the living room was bathed in moonlight. She saw Nick stretched out on the floor, only halfway encased in the sleeping bag. He was bare-chested and the sight of his tight stomach brought a flutter to her stomach.
She set down her forensic kit, took off her jacket and began peeling off her holster, when she heard the sleeping bag rustle. Harvey had returned to Nick’s side, laying his head on his legs.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she told Harvey.
“Too late,” Nick said, lifting himself up onto one elbow.
“I meant Harvey.” She smiled.
“Ah. Good. How are you holding up?” Even in the blue light, she could see the concern in his eyes.
“I honestly don’t know, Nick. Maybe not so good.” She didn’t want to remember the dead clerk’s eyes. She didn’t want to see the shriveled-up fetus still clinging to the wall of its mother’s uterus.
“Hey,” Nick said quietly, “why don’t you join Harvey and me?” He pulled back the top of the sleeping bag, inviting her inside.
Again, the stirrings of arousal surprised her. She was embarrassed by her reaction, because she knew Nick didn’t mean the invitation as anything more than to curl up next to him.
“I promise I’ll let you have as much control as you want.” His eyes were serious, and she knew he had managed to zoom in on her feelings. Was she that transparent?
Without a word, she started undoing her jeans. She met his eyes and saw a bit of surprise mixed with anticipation. He looked as though he wasn’t sure what to expect. She had no idea herself.
She left on her shirt. Her underpants were already damp before she climbe
d in next to him. Harvey stood up, turned around three times and flopped down with his back up against Nick. They both laughed, and Maggie was grateful for the release of tension.
They lay facing each other, but he kept his hands away. She realized he was serious about letting her have control. She touched his face with her fingertips, stroking his cheek, his bristled jaw and lingering at his lips. He kissed her fingers, his mouth warm and inviting.
She moved down to the scar, the slight pucker of white on his chin. Then, to his throat, watching him swallow hard as though trying to contain his emotions. Her eyes stayed with his as her fingers traced a path over his hard, flat stomach. His breathing was already uneven by the time her fingers made it to the bulge in his jockey shorts.
“Jesus, Maggie,” he said breathlessly. “If I’d known this was what it would be like to give you control—”
She didn’t let him finish. She kissed him lightly on the lips while her hand slipped into his waistband. His entire body quivered. Then his mouth urged her on. She knew she had him close to the edge, but he was holding back. She brought the length of her body against his. The kisses had become deep and urgent, but she moved her lips to his ear. She let her tongue run along his outer ear and then slip inside. She whispered, “Don’t hold back, Nick.”
It didn’t take long and his breathing came in gasps through clenched teeth. Moments later, her hand was wet and sticky. Nick collapsed onto his back, eyes closed, waiting to gain control over his body again. Maggie’s own body was still a live wire, tingling without any stimulation other than in reaction to Nick. As she watched him she realized she had never before felt so sensual or so completely satisfied.
He put his hands behind his neck. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He was looking up at her now, maybe wondering what was next. He glanced over at Harvey, who had moved to the sunroom.
“Is he giving us some privacy, or is he tired of us waking him up?”
She smiled but didn’t answer. Nick reached up and touched her hair, pushing back a strand and letting his fingers caress her cheek. She closed her eyes and absorbed the lovely sensation being sent through her body. He kept their bodies from touching while his hand gently made its way down her neck. He unbuttoned her shirt, hesitating at each button to give her time to protest. Instead, she lay back, inviting his touch.
