The Killer in Me

by Winter Austin

  He tapped the countertop. “Hey, Israel.”

  The African American male in green scrubs looked up and flashed a smile at Lundquist. “Hey, Kyle. What brings you here?”

  “Playing mad scientist again.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And bringing in a wounded deputy per the sheriff’s orders.”

  Israel’s dark eyes flicked from Lundquist to Lila. Under his scrutiny, Lila shifted her weight to her left leg, easing the ache in her right hip.

  “What seems to be the matter?” he asked, getting up from his seat and rounding the counter.

  “Too much concern. I’ll be fine with some ice packs and Band-Aids.”

  The man, like all the men around this county it seemed, towered over her. But that’s what she got for being short.

  “Why don’t we let the doctor be the judge of that.” His gaze zeroed on the blood spots on her once white shirt. “Dr. Thorpe is on call.”

  “Doesn’t she have patients and an autopsy to deal with?” Lila asked.

  Israel chuckled. “That’s Dr. Remington-Thorpe. Dr. Thorpe is her husband.” He turned to Lundquist. “Hang here, I’ll get her settled in a room.”

  “For God’s sake . . .”

  A lighter-skinned Black man with a neatly trimmed goatee in a white lab coat emerged from behind the station. He strode toward them. “Israel, I’ve got Mr. Teeter settled. Let’s get the lab to fast-track on those tests.”

  “I’ll hound them. We have a new patient for you, sent in by our wonderful new sheriff.”

  Pale brown eyes focused on Lila. “What’s the complaint?”

  “She injured herself in the old Barrett place and the sheriff wants her checked out to make sure there isn’t anything seriously wrong,” Lundquist provided.

  “I really appreciate how you like to speak for me,” Lila bit out.

  A smile lifted one corner of the doctor’s mouth. “For the sheriff’s sake, and to ease her mind, why don’t we rule out anything serious?” He held out a hand and beckoned Lila to follow. “This way, Ms. . . .?”

  “Deputy Dayne.” She sighed. “Lila Dayne.”

  Lundquist’s gaze tracked her as she passed. Hidden in that mask of stoicism was a hint of concern. The idea that he was worried about her punched Lila in the throat. She looked away, entering the open exam room Dr. Thorpe indicated.

  Lila tensed. This sterile environment was the last room on earth—and that also included an operating room—she ever wanted to be confined to again. She’d sworn to avoid it at all costs. And here, against her wishes, she was once more.

  The rattle of metal rings on a metal rod brought her heart rate up and sweat pebbled on her skin. Stifle it. There were bigger concerns to face than a panic attack.

  “I’d rather you close the door,” she said, pushing the words through her tight throat.

  “I don’t usually . . .”

  “Dr. Thorpe, either close that door or I leave.”

  No way was she ever going to let Lundquist hear anything the doctor said when she revealed what was beneath her blouse. These scars were for her and the doctor’s eyes only.

  “I’ll need to get a female nurse in here.”

  “You don’t trust me? Or you don’t trust yourself?”

  This made him step back. The expression on his features turned skeptical. Without another word, he reached through the curtain and pulled the door shut.

  Once that barrier was latched, Lila eased out of her coat. “What I’m about to show you stays in this room. HIPAA laws and all that.”

  When she’d gone in for a physical for this job, Lila had nearly panicked, ruining her chances of ever doing police work again. The kindly doctor, the exact opposite of all the ones before him, eased her anxious mind and she got through it, lies and all. Lila didn’t dare to hope Dr. Thorpe would be that obliging.

  He remained silent as she dropped the coat in a chair and began unbuttoning her shirt. When she parted the sides to slip out of the dirty, blood-stained garment his eyes widened.

  “Deputy Dayne, I need a full medical history.”

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth, with Deputy Meyer hot on her heels, found Lundquist chatting with Israel Jones at the walk-in clinic desk. If he was here, then he’d wrangled Deputy Dayne into seeing a doctor for her injuries.

  “Israel, how are things going with my newly appointed deputy?”

  “Sheriff.” Jones nodded. “Dr. Thorpe is just finishing with her.”

  “Good.”

  The phone rang, drawing Israel back to his duties.

  Elizabeth focused on Lundquist. “What were the test results?”

  “Definitely human. If you want to run more tests, I can.”

  “Later. Right now, I’m more concerned with that autopsy.”

  A door opened, and Dr. Dominic Thorpe exited. He stepped aside, allowing Deputy Dayne to leave the exam room. The hesitation in her movements was so slight, Elizabeth was certain her eyes had played tricks on her, but she hadn’t been mistaken. The younger woman must not have expected the entourage awaiting her.

  Dominic set his tablet on the curved station desk and propped an elbow on the top as he leaned against it. “Sheriff Benoit, I hear tell you have confiscated my wife for the evening.”

  “Only for a little bit. I won’t keep her long. I promise.”

  The doctor smiled, giving off that boyish charm that had made a tough-as-nails resident fall madly in love with him. “I pray not. I had big plans for my birthday.”

  The three deputies glanced at the doctor. Elizabeth snickered.

  “Dominic, you’re embarrassing the children.”

  “Indeed.” He turned to his patient. “You, Deputy Dayne, do as I say and you’ll be back on track by tomorrow.”

  “And what is she to do?” Elizabeth asked, her gaze holding Dayne’s.

  “Take it easy, and if she needs to ease the ache, take some over-the-counter pain relief.”

  “Tylenol it is. Deputy Meyer can stop at the drugstore . . .”

  “Sheriff, it’s not necessary,” Lila interjected. “I’m good. Which way to Dr. Remington-Thorpe’s office?”

  Elizabeth caught the subtle shake of Dominic’s head with the bowed mouth. There was more to this than a few bruises.

  “Hold up there, Deputy Dayne.”

  Pausing, the woman turned, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’m having Deputy Meyer take you back to the department. From there, you can hang until I return. Work with Deputy Fontaine, who has been running down leads all day to see who our Jane Doe is. Or head home and rest. But you’re not going into that autopsy.”

  Tension filled the woman’s features. “Sheriff, that’s a bad idea. I need to—”

  “Take it easy. I won’t be swayed on this matter. You’ve already been hurt the first day on the job, and I’ve got paperwork to fill out on that to boot. If you wish to disregard the doctor’s orders and worsen your injuries, that’s on you, but not on my watch.”

  Dayne looked to Lundquist and then Meyer. Neither man gave her the response she was probably looking for. “You need a trained investigator in there with you.”

  “I do, but our fantastic ME knows what she’s doing. I’m taking Lundquist in. It’ll be good training for the both of us.”

  “Deputy Dayne, heed the sheriff’s advice,” Dominic added.

  A moment passed between the doctor and his patient. The way the woman gnawed on her lip settled it for Elizabeth. Those reasons for leaving Chicago and coming to Juniper her new deputy was loath to mention earlier must have come up during the exam. Rafe might be onto something in his comment about her being trouble if she wasn’t willing to reveal her past. But the woman would come around. Elizabeth’s faith in her stood firm.

  “Fine. Since we need to learn who the girl is, I’ll help Deputy Fontaine.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Good.” She gripped Meyer’s shoulder. “Deputy Meyer, please escort Deputy Dayne back to the department. I’ll ride with Lundquist.”
She looked at the young man. “And, Meyer, go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you bright and early in the a.m.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth watched the two leave. At the automatic doors, Dayne looked back, lingering in the exit. Meyer waited, a bit of uncertainty in his face. When she finally left the clinic, Meyer seemed to relax and followed her out. Once the doors slid closed, Elizabeth zeroed in on Dominic.

  “Is she going to be okay for duty?”

  He pushed off the station desk, gathering his tablet and tucking it under his arm. “My diagnosis stands. Rest and relief. Don’t worry too much about her.” He looked at Israel. “I’ll be with Mr. Teeter.” And with that, he sauntered off.

  With a nod to Israel, Elizabeth and Lundquist departed for the morgue.

  The creaks of their duty belts and the sharp slap of boots against polished floor preceded them along the corridor.

  “What’s her story?” Lundquist asked as they rounded a corner that would lead them to the main wing of the hospital.

  “Not one I can tell, sorry to say. I’m obligated to keep it private. You know that.”

  “And I also know that if she’s hiding things that could land our department in trouble, there will be hell to pay from the county. Not everyone is happy that you’re the sheriff.”

  “Thank you for that reminder.”

  He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Sheehan’s been pushing me to give him reports on you.”

  “And what have you told him?”

  “Nothing. I just walk away. I know where my loyalties lie.”

  Smiling, she bumped his elbow with hers. “Especially after I gave you free rein to be my forensics specialist.”

  He ducked his head. Never let it be said that Kyle Lundquist had an ego.

  “It surprised me when I came home and learned you were an LEO. I remember you always loved your petri dishes and Bunsen burners. Figured you’d grow up to be some scientist who’d win a Nobel Prize one day.”

  When Kyle was a child, Elizabeth had been called to babysit him and his baby sister if Brendette was unavailable to watch her younger siblings. Kyle loved it because Elizabeth would actually let him experiment.

  “I thought I would too. Life has a way of changing your mind.”

  He, like Elizabeth, questioned the circumstances around Bre’s death. And why his baby sister was left with a crippling fear of the unknown.

  A familiar figure in blue scrubs stood next to a pair of wide doors leading to the operating wing. Here came the hardest part of her new job. Elizabeth drew in a breath and glanced at the man who was once her young charge.

  “The navy didn’t need you, Kyle.”

  His blue eyes pinned her. “But I needed the navy, Ellie.”

  They both halted before Dr. Olivia Remington-Thorpe. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  *

  The unfortunate young woman was lying on the metal autopsy table, her clothing removed and placed in sealed evidence containers. Elizabeth’s heart ached. If she and Joel had ever been blessed to be parents—and it was a mercy that they had not—this girl could have been their daughter. What this young woman’s parents must be going through. Was it anything like worrying if your husband would return on his own two feet or in a flag-draped coffin?

  Did they sense that their daughter’s life had been snuffed out? Was her mother imagining the horrors that would now be inflicted on her baby girl, who was exposed and prepped for a worse violation to her body? Even in death there wasn’t a thread of dignity left. But it must be done in order for Elizabeth and her deputies to find the girl’s killer.

  Olivia handed them each a pair of gloves and masks. “I won’t cut into her until we’ve gone over every inch of her body. If you would rather not stay for that portion, I have no objections.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll start and see where we go from there.”

  Gloved up and masks on, Olivia turned on the large overhead lights. It took the bulbs a moment to get to their full brilliance. Both Elizabeth and Lundquist stayed back as Olivia prepared, setting a pair of autopsy pages on a wheeled tray and turning on a digital recorder.

  “Sheriff.”

  Harkening Olivia’s beckoning, Elizabeth joined her beside the table.

  “Please take a close look there.” Olivia carefully rotated the victim’s head to the side, the still damp strands of hair pushed back to reveal the side and back of her neck. The ME pointed at a spot right at the hairline.

  Lundquist inched in beside Elizabeth as she bent over and peered at the blemish.

  “Is that a bruise?”

  “It is,” Lundquist answered.

  He and Elizabeth backed up as Olivia brought around an adjustable magnifying glass. She positioned it near the young woman’s neck and studied the mark, or more accurately, marks as the magnification showed.

  “The impressions are round and spaced out. Possibly knuckles.”

  “The victim was hit there?” Elizabeth asked.

  Pushing the instrument aside, Olivia picked up her camera and screwed on a special filtering lens. “Indications would say yes, but I’ll need to study it closer and have the ME team at DCI look over it too. Kyle, would you hit the lights, please?”

  Once Lundquist had plunged them into semidarkness, Olivia turned on an infrared light. Fascinated, Elizabeth watched as the doctor took multiple photos of the bruising, each flash of her camera changing the woman’s pale skin to a darkish purple. As Olivia clicked away, the lens revealed more bruises.

  “Could those other bruises be from an attacker?”

  “They might have come about when her body went down the ravine.” Olivia, with Lundquist’s help, rolled the body onto its side. Other than the lividity—where the blood pooled in the body after death—there was a large bruise on the victim’s back. Olivia took more photos under the infrared. “This one could have been from hitting a rock, or the tree where she stopped. Sometimes the objects leave impressions, and we’ll be able to tell what made what bruise.”

  Elizabeth’s body had turned cold with each revelation. “Are you saying, because she’s so bruised up, she was alive when she was tossed over?”

  “Kyle, lights, please.”

  Olivia waited for the room to return to its normal brilliance. Setting her camera down, she picked up a clipboard and rotated it. The diagram of the human body noted each point where she had found notable marks to the victim’s flesh. “A fact to keep in mind as you progress through this homicide investigation: even in death, the body will bruise. The depth and size of the bruising will determine if it was hours before death, or right up to and just after. I have to measure and inspect each one of them to know for sure.”

  “Do you have any idea how she died?”

  “Not yet. With everything that has happened to this poor girl, there could be multiple outcomes,” Olivia said. “I’ve got the samples for toxicology, and I’ll have them run a few extra screens for drugs outside of the usual.”

  “Have you checked her blood type?” Lundquist asked.

  “I have.” Olivia’s gaze narrowed on the deputy. “She was AB negative.”

  Elizabeth quirked her head to the side as her deputy grunted. “Any particular reason this is important to you?”

  “Deputy Dayne might be onto something,” he answered and turned for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to do one more test.” And with that, he exited the morgue.

  “What did he mean by that?” Olivia asked.

  Smiling at her friend. “I’m guessing the injuries Deputy Dayne sustained earlier today might not have been in vain.”

  Chapter Nine

  Except for three vehicles, one of which was hers, and another being the sheriff’s, the courthouse complex was deserted by the time Deputy Meyer dropped Lila off. Despite his insistence to see her inside—these Iowa boys sure had chivalric manners the likes of which Lila had not seen—she assured him it was okay and he could go home to get th
at much needed sleep the sheriff had ordered. Lila waited for his vehicle to disappear before heading into the department side of the building.

  The eerie silence chilled her. If not for the light spilling into the darkened hallway, Lila would have turned around and left.

  It was so like the night of the attack.

  Coming to the corner of the doorway, she peered inside the open office area. Toward the back of the room, his head bent over a notepad, Rafe Fontaine wrote lefthanded. Curled at his boots, Bentley slept with her nose tucked to her belly. Lila eased her shoulder into the doorframe and studied the man.

  His tall, muscular frame filled the chair he sat in. If Lila had to guess, his age was anywhere between thirty-five and forty, but he could be younger. He was chiseled and deeply tanned, the kind of tan that stuck around no matter how gray and cold it got in the winter. But his eyes belonged to a much older man. What had he seen or experienced to age him so?

  Bentley stirred, huffing as she lifted her head. Fontaine reached down and scratched her ears while he seemed to reread what he had written. After a sufficient amount of attention, Bentley lowered her head and rested her snout on her paws, her gaze riveted to the doorway where Lila stood. Fontaine resumed his writing.

  Unlike Lundquist with his surly, protective nature, and newly badged and eager Meyer, something was different about Fontaine, especially to the sheriff.

  The crack of the door seal echoed along the hallway, making Lila stiffen. She wasn’t the only one to hear it. Fontaine lifted his head and looked in her direction. Heavy footfalls on the polished floor dragged her attention from the furrowed brow of the man twenty feet from her.

  Stomping toward her was the sole remaining deputy she hadn’t spent a lot of time with today. He looked fresh and ready for a long night shift.

  Lila remained at her post as he approached. He scowled as he passed her but said nothing, entering department quarters.