The NightShade Forensic Files: Salvage
Book 5 (A Shadow Files Novel)
A.J. Scudiere
The NightShade Forensic Files: Salvage
Copyright © 2018 by AJ Scudiere
Griffyn Ink. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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FIRST EDITION
Contents
Books by A.J.
Join Renegades
Foreword
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
About the Author
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Look for other novels by A.J. Scudiere.
Available in bookstores, online, and at AJScudiere.com.
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The NightShade Forensic Files
Book 1 - Under Dark Skies
Book 2 - Fracture Five
Book 3 - The Atlas Defect
Book 4 - Echo and Ember
Book 5 - Salvage (A Shadow Files Novel)
Book 6 - Garden of Bone
Book 7 - The Camelot Gambit (Available Apr 2, 2019)
Book 8 - Dead Tide (Available Oct 17, 2019)
Book 9 - Sabotage (A Shadow Files Novel) (coming 2020)
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Black Carbon
Book 1 - Mutation (Available Aug 6, 2019)
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Legends
The Landa Landa & The Aellai (Available Jan 22, 2019)
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FORTUNE (red)
FORTUNE (gray)
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The Vendetta Trifecta
Vengeance
Retribution
Justice
The Complete Vendetta Trifecta
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Resonance
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God's Eye
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Phoenix
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The Shadow Constant
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Stand Alone Novels by A.J. Scudiere: Resonance, God’s Eye, Phoenix, The Shadow Constant
Join A.J.’s Renegades here: www.ReadAJS.com
"There are really just 2 types of readers—those who are fans of AJ Scudiere, and those who will be."
-Bill Salina, Reviewer, Amazon
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For The Shadow Constant:
"The Shadow Constant by A.J. Scudiere was one of those novels I got wrapped up in quickly and had a hard time putting down."
-Thomas Duff, Reviewer, Amazon
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For Phoenix:
"It's not a book you read and forget; this is a book you read and think about, again and again . . . everything that has happened in this book could be true. That's why it sticks in your mind and keeps coming back for rethought."
-Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie
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For God's Eye:
"I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys reading - it's well-written and brilliantly characterized. I've read all of A.J.'s books and they just keep getting better."
-Katy Sozaeva, Reviewer, Amazon
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For Vengeance:
"Vengeance is an attention-grabbing story that lovers of action-driven novels will fall hard for. I hightly recommend it."
-Melissa Levine, Professional Reviewer
* * *
For Resonance:
"Resonance is an action-packed thriller, highly recommended. 5 stars."
-Midwest Book Review
This is for all the Smart Chickens. You know who you are.
Thank you for being here from the beginning.
Acknowledgments
This has been a long road. When I started writing, it was a solitary endeavor. No more. I have my people now, and I love every one of them. They help wrangle the story and close the loopholes. They build a cover and tell me, "No, try this." And they're right. I am the reason you have the story. They are the reason it's in readable English and why the cover gives you the chills. They are the push behind a blurb that makes you say, "Oh, wait. What's happening to Walter and GJ!?!?" They are the reason this book isn't just a document filed on my computer in a format that will one day be obsolete. I would have written it anyway. They are the reason you have it.
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And as always, for Guy, Jarett, and January. They live with me. They see every evening when I'm writing. They deal with my surly attitude when I'm editing. They listen when I excitedly tell them I have a new idea for a book, a series, a way to tell a story. And they deal with it when I run off to do it. I love you guys.
1
Walter Reed glanced around the empty conference room. Being the first to arrive made her nervous. FBI Special Agent in Charge Derek Westerfield had invited her to this meeting almost a week ago, yet she still had no idea what he wanted. To calm her nerves, she recited her stats. These were things she knew, things she’d been forced to yell to superior officers, reminders that she could do any of this. Whatever it was.
Born: Lucy Fisher.
United States Marine Corps.
MARSOC.
Wounded in action.
Loss of left arm, loss of left leg, bionic replacements—and now she was known mostly as Walter Reed.
She had saved other troops from IEDs, she'd helped stop a terrorist ring in Los Angeles, so surely she could survive an empty conference room for just a few minutes. She forced herself to sit still.
When the door opened, she turned rapidly to stand at attention. It was a feat on the fake leg, one of the first feats she'd mastered after her surgery. Success had come only after she’d accepted that she was never going to be her old self. She was a new person—maybe less of a person—when she woke up in Walter Reed Hospital. But she’d done her time in therapy and learned to work with her new body and prosthetics. Now, as she put in the energy to snap to attention, she realized her effort wasn't worth it.
The person coming in the doorway was not FBI Special Agent Derek Westerfield, but GJ Janson. GJ's eyes jumped left, then right, as though she, too, had no idea what this meeting was about. However, GJ's mere presence gave Walter a litt
le more insight into what might be going on. She found she didn't like it one bit.
Despite the nervous look on her face, when GJ turned and greeted her, the tone was a little too chipper.
"Hey, Walter. I figured we'd both be here." Her words were relatively confident, but the way her sharp hazel eyes were darting around gave Walter pause. What did GJ Janson know that she didn't? That bothered Walter on a level she couldn’t quite define. There wasn’t a chance to think about it for very long, because the door swung open again before it had completed its slow, closing arc behind GJ's entrance. At last, FBI Special Agent in Charge Derek Westerfield walked into the room.
He looked from one to the other of them without moving his head, then sat down at the head of the table. GJ scrambled. She hadn't even taken a seat yet. Walter, of course, sat back down fluidly, confidently, and without giving away anything of what she felt inside.
"Special Agent Westerfield," GJ greeted him, her voice still a little over-excited. "It's good to see you again."
Westerfield only nodded. He pulled out two file folders and set them, stacked, in front of him. With thick fingers, he flipped the top one open, and Walter could see a dossier with GJ Janson's picture paper-clipped to the front page old-school style. The second folder, still closed under the first one, was reasonably thicker. Walter could only conclude it was her own.
Westerfield didn't give her time to muse it through, though. Instead, he once again glanced from one woman to the other and then said, "You two have royally fucked up my operations."
Before she’d readily ditched all her non-plans and come here to the FBI Field Office, GJ had been at home. Well, at one of her grandfather's homes. Supposedly, she was doing research. The fact of the matter was, she was actually doing research—it just wasn't associated with any formal institution or any university or anyone else at all. She'd yet to tell her grandfather or even her parents about the serious trouble she'd gotten herself in with the FBI. So when she mentioned she had an interview, they naturally assumed it was with the university. Not bothering to correct this, GJ had successfully dodged questions about where she was going and who exactly she planned to meet.
Though she'd come and gone from her grandfather's estate several times over the past handful of months, she still hadn't quite figured out what was going on with him. To her, he was simply her grandfather; however, the world knew him as the renowned Professor Murray Marks. He had his own bone collection, featuring a good number of full skeletons. While this should have been impressive, GJ was discovering it was more weird than awe inspiring.
All his acquisitions possessed a strange, but relatively consistent, set of anomalies. She'd been trying to figure out what it was. At this point, the best her several science degrees and background in chemistry, biology, and even some psych and sociology could tell was that it looked like—possibly—the people who had the anomaly were double jointed. Their bones looked relatively normal but it seemed they had more than the standard 206 adult bones possessed by other normal human beings. This was due to the failure of some plates and bones to fuse properly despite the fact that, by all other indicators, the skeletons were those of fully-grown adults.
Her grandfather still traveled all over the world collecting human skeletons from digs as recent as several years ago, some from archeological sites that went back hundreds and even thousands of years. However, the only bones he brought home had this one specific anomaly. It piqued her interest, probably the same way it piqued his. GJ, being who she was, was unable to walk away from that—especially once she realized that a particular FBI agent she knew, Agent Donovan Heath, possessed the exact same set of anomalies.
While her grandfather might have skeletons, she had a live human being to study. Needless to say, Agent Heath had not appreciated her inquiries. She'd tried to prove herself useful by insinuating herself with the FBI team of Heath and Eames. Though she’d definitely accomplished something, she’d not quite achieved her goal. No, scratch that. She was certain she hadn't achieved her goal. Agent Heath hadn’t even admitted that he had an anomaly. He wouldn’t even say if he was or wasn’t double-jointed. She’d inserted herself into the investigation and even helped crack the case, despite the fact that she still hadn’t been debriefed on exactly what the case was. And along the way, she’d clearly done something wrong.
After all, she'd wound up in handcuffs. Despite the fact that the agents left her high and dry once they’d wrapped up their investigation, she continued to dig. And the easiest place to dig was in the basement of her grandfather's estate where he kept a wide variety of human bones.
All her life, she'd simply assumed that her famous professor grandfather had permission to keep the bones in his personal storage facility. That paperwork would have been granted from the university he worked for, or from various institutions around the world, like the British Museum. Her young self had assumed permission. Her older, more educated self knew what to look for, and the more she looked now, the more she didn't see tags. She didn't see logs that tied the bones to any institution. The marking system used to ID each individual specimen in black ink didn’t match any system she’d ever been trained on or seen. GJ was growing more and more disturbed by her grandfather's activities.
Though she'd almost gotten caught the first time she snuck down where she wasn't allowed, she'd since learned to turn the power off to that part of the house, mask the cameras, trip the locks, and sneak down the stairs with the light on her camera to show her the way. She would then take photographs and study the bones to her heart's content.
Probably the only one who knew she was doing it was the maid. The maid didn't really seem to care. A reasonable part of his staff had no love lost for the old man, so whatever GJ did—including sneaking into locked basements—was okay.
In the meantime, several other residents of the house had started calling the power company and wondering why they kept having outages. GJ never offered a clue, because what she was finding was far too stunning. While she'd originally thought her grandfather had a collection of several skeletons that had the anomaly, she now knew that his collection was much larger—and the anomaly far more extensive—than she’d originally estimated.
It appeared that every single skeleton in Murray Marks’ personal collection was undocumented, without correct provenance to show it belonged to a museum or university collection. It seemed they were all skeletons her grandfather had personally pulled out of the ground and she was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd stolen them.
He had a full setup in his basement lab, including a generator, a table for autopsies—both wet and dry—and a full overhead, sprayer-nozzle system on a pulley so he could wash away bodily fluids as he worked. It was the same kind of rig that one might find in a nice morgue, and he’d built it right into his own basement. GJ had grown up with odd things in the house. She hadn't thought it was unusual as a kid. She didn’t realize other kids didn’t have grandfathers with full autopsy setups inside their homes. But now, even as a forensic scientist herself, she was starting to get the heebie-jeebies.
Her biggest concern was that, right before she left to come to this interview with the FBI, she'd snuck down into the basement again. Though she’d been planning to take more notes and get more pictures, she’d instead found that the kettle was on.
Her grandfather had left only a handful of hours before and he had a full-sized standard laboratory kettle for boiling bones. A lot of water, a little bit of meat tenderizer, put a skeleton in, clamp the lid down to create pressure, turn it on and leave it for a day. Voila! When you came back, you had a clean skeleton, free of flesh. Any that was still clinging was loose and could be easily brushed or wiped away unlike the fresh, unboiled variety of dead body.
The kettle in his lab was one of the bigger ones she'd seen, about three and a half feet across by four feet tall. It sat up on a slight pedestal so that the top opened up right about at her eye height. She could just peek down inside and see what he had boiling or
if it was cleaned out. Normally, it stayed closed but empty—none of the lights would be on.
Today, the lights were on. The lid wasn't merely resting closed, it was clamped, and the gauge on the side indicated the high temperature and the high pressure inside. The numbers revealed that it must have been on the boil for at least an hour and a half. The power being off would slowly let the numbers down. She’d have to get out soon and flip the switch back. Luckily, the kettle boiled for long enough that her small break in cooking time wouldn’t get noticed. That didn’t bother her.
No. What bothered her most was the size of the kettle that he kept. It was the exact right size for boiling down the bones of a complete human skeleton.
Salvage: A Shadow Files Novel Page 1
