The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

  Tess inwardly cringed. 'I get the idea.'

  'If you're as determined as you told me yesterday…'

  'I am.'

  'I could show you photographs. That's the usual procedure and a lot less traumatic. The problem is, as vivid as the photos are, they still don't give the same perspective as… In cases where the face has been damaged, it's often difficult to make a positive ID unless…Are you…? This is a terrible question. Are you willing to look at the…?'

  'Corpses? Yes.' Tess shuddered. 'For my friend, I'm willing.'

  THIRTEEN

  Despite her various experiences as a reporter, Tess had never been to the New York City mortuary. Uneasy, she expected something like in the movies, a wall of refrigerated steel cubicles, a shiny hatch being opened, a sheet-covered corpse being pulled out on a sliding table. Instead Craig escorted her along a hallway to a small room where she faced a large window, beyond which was a dumbwaiter shaft.

  Craig gave instructions into a phone, set it down, and explained, 'To save time, I made arrangements earlier. The staffs got everything ready. Tess, it's still not too late to change your mind.'

  'No. I have to do this.' She trembled, not sure what would happen next, bracing herself.

  A half-minute later, she flinched, hearing a motor's drone. Apprehensive, she watched cables rise, a platform being lifted. As the platform stopped beyond the window, she found herself staring at the swollen, lead-colored face of a corpse with filmy eyes and skin that seemed about to slip off its cheekbones. Although the skin was gray, its texture reminded Tess of a split, peeling, parboiled tomato. Turning away, she felt nauseous.

  Craig gently touched her shoulder. 'Yeah, I know. For what it's worth, as many times as I've been here, I always feel queasy.'

  Tess fought to restrain the insistent spasms in her stomach. 'Thanks. I think…'She breathed. 'I think I'll be okay. Apparently I'm not as tough as…'

  'Nobody is. The day I get used to looking at corpses in as bad shape as this, is the day I quit my job.'

  'The sheet that comes up to his neck. It covers the stitches from the autopsy?'

  'Right. This is gross enough without…' Craig hesitated. 'Is it him? Your friend?'

  Tess shook her head.

  'Are you positive? From being in the water so long, the face is disfigured. You might not be able to…"

  'It's not disfigured enough that I wouldn't recognize him. This isn't Joseph.'

  Craig sounded awkward. 'That must be some relief to you.'

  Tess felt clammy. 'So far, so good.'

  'So far. That's the trouble. Unfortunately there are others. Do you think you can…?'

  'Hurry. Let's finish this.'

  Craig picked up the phone and gave new instructions.

  Again Tess heard a drone. Still averting her gaze from the window, she imagined the platform descending, the corpse disappearing. 'Can I-?'

  'Yes. It's gone. You can turn around now.'

  Tess slowly pivoted, her legs unsteady. Her breath rate increased. Once more, the drone of the rising platform made her flinch. She became light-headed and mustered all her discipline, forcing herself to study the next corpse that stopped beyond the window.

  Craig had warned her that rats had eaten the eyes, but she wasn't prepared for the further damage that the rats had inflicted. The corpse's lips had been chewed away, exposing teeth that seemed to grin. The nose was gone, leaving two grotesque slits. There were jagged gaps in the cheeks, a shredded oval hole beneath the chin, like an obscene second mouth, and…

  Tess spun away. 'Get it out of here!'

  Despite the pounding behind her ears, she heard Craig speak to the phone and in a moment, mercifully, the drone of the descending platform.

  Craig gently touched her arm again. Tess felt him waiting and sensed his hesitation, the uneasiness with which he tried to think of a sympathetic remark before he'd be able to ask…

  'No, it isn't Joseph.' Tess shook. 'His forehead's too narrow.' She breathed. 'His hair's the same length, but the part's on the right instead of the left. Thank God, it isn't Joseph.'

  'Come over here. Sit down.'

  'I'll be okay.'

  'Sure. All the same, you look pale.' Craig guided her. 'Come on, take a rest. Sit down.'

  Tess obeyed, leaned back, closed her eyes, and felt cold sweat on her brow. 'Is that the end?' Her voice was a whisper. 'In the car, you mentioned only those two corpses. I want to know about my friend, but I hope to God there aren't any more.'

  Craig didn't answer.

  Slowly, nervously, Tess opened her eyes.

  Craig glanced toward the floor.

  'What?' Tess asked with effort.

  Craig pursed his lips.

  'Tell me.' Tess frowned, her voice regaining strength. 'Are there others? You're… What are you holding back?'

  '… There is one more.'

  Tess exhaled.

  'But I don't think the victim can be identified. Not this way anyhow. Not visually. Probably only by bone X rays, dental records, and…' Craig gestured, ill at ease. 'He was burned. Over much of his body, especially his face. I don't know what use it would… I really question whether you should look at him.'

  'It's that hopeless?'

  'Definitely worse than what you've seen. I doubt that viewing the body would accomplish anything, except make you sick.'

  'You mean sicker than I already am.'

  Craig grimaced. 'I guess that's what I mean.'

  Tess debated, concluding with relief, 'If that's your opinion. I want to do everything possible to learn what happened to Joseph, but if…'

  'The only reason I even mentioned the victim is…' Craig peered toward the floor again.

  'You're still holding something back.'

  'Is where he died.'

  Tess felt a worm of fear uncoil in her stomach. 'Where he died? What are you trying to say, Lieutenant?'

  'You mentioned you were supposed to meet Joseph on Saturday morning.'

  'Yes. So what?'

  'To go jogging.'

  'Right.' Tess straightened.

  'On the upper East Side. At Carl Schurz Park.'

  'Damn it, I asked you, what are you trying to say, Lieutenant?'

  'That's where this victim was found. At three a.m. on Saturday night. In Carl Schurz Park.'

  Tess surged to her feet. 'Jesus. How did he…?'

  'Get burned? We're not certain yet. The victim might have been a derelict, sleeping in the park. It closes at one a.m., and it's supposed to be patrolled, but sometimes street people sneak in and manage to hide. The victim was doused with gasoline and set ablaze. The autopsy shows he died from the flames, not from a knife wound or a gunshot that a fire is sometimes used to conceal. The blaze destroyed his clothes, so we can't tell if he was a derelict, but as we know, sometimes kids get their kicks by tracking down vagrants while they sleep and setting them on fire. That neighborhood doesn't see much trouble, so near to the mayor's house. The gangs tend to stay farther north and west. All the same, the scenario I just described is consistent with what happened.'

  'But do you believe that scenario? You wouldn't mention this victim unless you thought there was a chance' – Tess could hardly say the words – 'he might be Joseph.'

  'All I'm doing is pointing out a common denominator.'

  ' Carl Schurz Park.'

  Craig nodded. 'But it's probably just a coincidence. Your friend wasn't a derelict. What would he be doing in the park at three a.m.? Especially that night.'

  'What's so unusual about last Saturday night?'

  'On Sunday, it rained, remember?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well, the storm began around two in the morning. Even if your friend couldn't sleep and felt tempted to take a walk, is it reasonable to believe he'd have gone out after he saw it was raining? And if he did, why would he have left the street to climb the fence of a park that was locked for the night?' Craig shrugged. 'The scenario that doesn't raise questions is the one I described. A derelict
snuck into the park to find shelter. Kids followed him and set him on fire.'

  Tess bit her lip. 'All the same, I don't have a choice.'

  'Excuse me?'

  'I have to look at the body, to try to assure myself it isn't Joseph. Otherwise I'll never stop wondering.'

  'I meant what I said. It's much worse than the others.'

  'Please, Lieutenant.'

  Craig studied her. 'Why don't we compromise?'

  'I don't' – Tess swallowed – 'understand.'

  'I admire your loyalty to your friend. But why not do yourself a favor? This time, look at photographs. Since visual identification is almost hopeless, the difference won't matter, and you can still put your mind at rest.'

  She thought about it, dismally nodding.

  'I'll be back in a minute,' Craig said.

  Alone in the room, Tess waited nervously, darting her eyes toward the window and the horrors she'd seen beyond it. She wondered what greater horror she soon would-

  Lieutenant Craig re-entered the room, carrying a folder. He opened it, then hesitated. 'Remember, the fire disfigured most of the body, especially the face. All of the body would have been disfigured, but it seems that the victim had strength enough to run through the rain and get to a pool of water. He managed to roll in it and put the flames out before he died.'

  Tess reached for the folder. She slowly removed what felt like six photographs, discovering that they were frontside down. A short reprieve. Tense, she turned the first one.

  She gasped.

  What once had been a head now resembled a roast that had been seared, scorched, blackened, charred, and…

  'Oh, my God.' Tess jerked her eyes away, but the image of the grotesque mutilation remained in her mind. The blistered skull had no hair, no features, nothing that could possibly resemble Joseph's handsome face. Soot-filmed bone protruded from dark whorls of crisped…

  Her voice quavered… 'Lieutenant, I'm sorry I doubted you.'

  'Here. Let me… There's no need to torture yourself any further.' Craig reached for the photographs.

  Tess shook her head fiercely. 'I started this. I'll…'

  She turned the next photograph. Another head shot, equally repulsive. In a rush, she set it aside. Only four more to go. Hurry, she thought.

  She wasn't prepared for the next photo. The corpses on the platform beyond the window had each been covered with a sheet to the neck. But now she winced at a full view of a naked, almost totally charred body. Only the legs to the knees and the left arm below the elbow hadn't been scorched. However, what Tess noticed most, with mounting nausea, were the bulky stitches that ran from the pelvis up to the ribcage, then right and left, forming a Y, where the pathologist had closed the body after the autopsy had been performed.

  I can't take much more. Tess inwardly moaned, hands shuddering, and flipped another photograph. Whatever horror she'd dreaded she would see, she discovered – exhaling sharply, reprieved – that she was staring at the corpse's unburned left leg and foot. Thank you, Lord. Now if only… She turned the next-to-last photograph and again exhaled, reprieved, viewing the corpse's unburned right leg and foot.

  One more to go.

  One last photograph.

  And if I'm lucky, Tess thought.

  She was.

  At the same time, she wasn't, for although the final photograph wasn't threatening (indeed it was predictable, given the logic of the sequence – a shot of the corpse's unburned left arm below the elbow), something in it attracted her shocked attention.

  Abruptly her memory flashed back to when she'd talked with Joseph in the delicatessen last Friday afternoon.

  'We can only be friends,' he'd said.

  'I'm not sure what…'

  'What I mean is, we can never be lovers.'

  His frankness had startled her. 'Hey,' she'd said, I wasn't making a proposition. It's not like I asked you to go to bed.'

  'I know that. Really, your behavior's impeccable.' Joseph had reached across the table and tenderly touched her hand. I didn't mean to offend or embarrass you. It's just that… there are certain things about me you wouldn't understand.'

  And while he'd said that, Tess had glanced down at the back of the hand, the left hand, that Joseph had placed on hers.

  Just as Tess now glanced at – no, riveted her eyes upon - the back of the left hand in the photograph.

  She felt as if she'd swallowed ice cubes, as if her stomach were crammed with freezing chunks of…!

  A choked sound escaped from her throat. She slumped back in the chair, forced her eyes away from the photograph, fought to speak, and told Craig, 'It's him.'

  'What?' Craig looked surprised. 'But how can you be…? The corpse is so…'

  'On Friday, when we ate lunch, Joseph touched my hand. I remember glancing down and noticing he had a scar, a distinctive jagged scar, on the back of his left wrist.' Weary, heart sinking with grief, Tess pointed toward the photograph. 'Like this scar on this left wrist. He's dead. My God, Joseph's…'

  'Let me see.' Craig grasped the photograph. As if clinging to Joseph, she resisted. The lieutenant gently pried at her fingers and carefully removed the photograph.

  Craig scowled down, frowning, nodding. 'Yes. An old scar. Judging from its thickness, the wound was deep. No one mentioned this to me. Otherwise I'd have told you about it and saved you the pain of looking at the other photos.' He raised the picture closer. 'Not a knife scar. Not jagged the way it is. More like a wound from a broken bottle or maybe barbed wire or… Tess, are you sure?'

  'In my mind, I can see his hand on mine as vividly as I see that photograph. There's no way to measure them. But yes… I'd give anything not to be… I'm sure. The scars are identical. This is Joseph. Joseph is…" Tess felt pressure behind her ears, in her stomach, but most of all, around her heart.

  Her voice sank. Abruptly she felt numb. 'Dead. Joseph is…'

  'Tess, I'm sorry.'

  'Dead.'

  FOURTEEN

  In the mortuary's parking garage, Tess's walk became more unsteady. She was barely conscious of Craig helping her into the car, then going around and sitting behind the steering wheel. She fumbled to put on her seatbelt, again barely conscious that Craig snapped it into place for her. With unfocused eyes, she stared toward the blur of other vehicles in the dimly lit garage.

  At last Craig broke the silence, coughing. 'Where shall I drive you? Home? After what you've been through… You're trembling. I don't recommend that you try to go back to work.'

  Tess turned to him, blinking, only now fully aware of his presence. 'Home? Work?' She crossed her unsteady arms and pressed them hard against her chest, restraining her tremors. 'Would you…? This'll sound… Do me a favor?'

  'I already promised I'd help as much as possible.'

  'Take me to where he died.'

  Craig furrowed his brow. 'To the park?'

  'Yes.'

  'But why would you…?'

  Tess hugged her chest harder, wincing. 'Please.'

  Craig seemed about to say something. Instead he coughed again, turned the ignition key, put the car in gear, and drove from the garage, emerging onto First Avenue, following the one-way traffic northward.

  Thank you,' Tess said.

  Craig shrugged.

  Tomorrow, first thing, I'll make a point of telling Walter how cooperative you've been,' she said.

  'Walter? Hey, you've got the wrong idea. I'm not doing this for Walter. I'm doing my job. Or have been. But at the moment, I'm doing this for you.'

  'I'm sorry. I apologize.' Tess almost touched his arm. 'I didn't mean to sound insulting, as if I thought you were only paying back a debt or…'

  'You didn't insult me. Don't worry about it. But I like to make sure things are clearly understood. Not many people would have done what you just went through for a man they'd only met a few times but considered a friend. Loyalty's a rare commodity. You'd be amazed how many people don't care when someone's missing. I admire your persistence – your sense of
obligation – so if you tell me you want to go to the park, fine, that's where we go. The office will just have to do without me till this afternoon. Joseph Martin must have been special.'

  Tess thought about it. 'Different.'

  'I don't understand.'

  'It's hard to explain. He had a… Sure, he was handsome. But more important, he had a kind of… magnetism. He seemed to… the only word I can think of is… he seemed to glow.' Tess raised her chin. 'And by the way, in case you've been wondering, there wasn't anything sexual between us.'

  'I never suggested there was.'

  'In fact, the reverse. Joseph insisted that we could only be friends, that we could never have sex.'

  Craig turned to her, frowning.

  'I know what you're thinking, and so did I. Wrong. He didn't say that because he was gay or anything, but because… How did he put it? He said a platonic friendship was better because it was eternal. That's how he talked. Almost poetically. Yes.' Grief squeezed Jess's throat. Sorrow cramped her heart. 'Joseph was special.'

  Craig concentrated on driving but continued frowning. They crossed the intersection of Forty-Fifth Street, passing the United Nations building on the right, heading farther northward.

  'So.' Tess quivered and straightened. 'What happens next?'

  'After the park? I talk to Homicide and tell them we've got a tentative identification of the body.'

  'Tentative? That scar is…'

  'You have to realize, Homicide needs more than that to be absolutely certain. They've sent the fingerprints they managed to get from the left hand to the FBI. Even with computers, though, it can take several days for the FBI to search its files for a match to those prints, especially given the backlog of cases. But now, with a possible name for the victim, they can speed up the process, go to Joseph Martin's file, compare prints, and… Who knows? It could be the scar is coincidental. You might be wrong.'

  'Don't I wish. But I'm not.' Tess felt dizzy.

  'I'm just trying to give you hope.'

  'And I'm afraid that hope's as rare as loyalty.'

  Tess's breathing became more labored the closer they came to Eighty-Eighth Street. Tense, she watched the lieutenant steer right, cross two avenues, and just before the final one, manage to find a parking space. With greater distress, she got out of the car with him, locked it, and in hazy sunlight faced the opposite side of East End Avenue.