He looked at the statement once more. He had a feeling that he and Ms. Hunter would meet again. Her observations were very interesting. They were actually better than the forensics report he’d received. Since the tree hadn’t been the scene of the crime, the forensics unit hadn’t spent too much time on it. He shook his head. He’d have to go back. This case was weird enough without taking Ms. Hunter into account.
He groaned. That was going to be awkward. He reached for his phone and dialed the medical examiner. “Doctor Riddle, do you have anything for me?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Sorry, Doc.”
The man huffed. “Actually, I do. And you can come down here to find out what it is.”
Great. He really loved visiting the morgue. Not. “I’ll be right down, Doc.”
A few minutes and an elevator-ride later, he walked into the morgue. The smell of industrial disinfectant assaulted his nostrils. He hated visiting the morgue, a dislike that only intensified when he saw the body of their murder victim on one of the tables, the medical examiner leaning over it.
When the Doc called, the body was usually covered or sewn up or something. It was rare for the doctor to still be working on it, like he was now, his arms almost disappearing into the corpse as he pulled out the organs.
Peter prided himself on having a strong stomach. He’d been a member of the Canadian Special Forces. He’d been deployed overseas to more war zones than he could count. He’d seen death. He’d dealt out death. But seeing the Doc playing around with a man’s guts? He struggled to stomach it.
“Doc?” he said, breathing in through his mouth. The body was giving off a unique perfume that was not wholly pleasant.
Doctor Riddle looked up. “Good, you’re here.”
“So what was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Come here, I need to show you something.” When Peter hesitated, the Doc glanced up at him again. “I don’t have all day, you know.”
Peter took a deep breath and stepped forward. He clenched his teeth and looked down. “What am I looking at, Doc?”
“This man has no kidneys or liver.”
“Excuse me?”
“His kidneys and liver have been removed. And that’s not the worst part.”
“Someone killed him, took his kidneys and liver, and there’s something worse?” Peter didn’t really know if he wanted to hear what else the doctor had to say.
The Doc nodded. “The cuts were precise. They were definitely made by someone with medical training, but the victim wasn’t dead when his organs were removed. He was alive. In fact, I’m pretty sure he was conscious when they cut into him.”
Peter felt bile rise up in his throat. “What makes you think that?”
The Doc closed the body up, pulling the edges of the initial wound together. “I can find no traces of anesthetic. And take a look at this incision. It starts off almost like a zigzag and then becomes straight and smooth.”
Peter nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. Doctor Riddle continued. “Part of the incision is surgical, but part of it looks like it’s been done by someone whose hands were shaking. The only logical explanation is that the patient was awake when he was first cut into and was struggling. Then he probably passed out or someone held him down…”
“Jesus.”
“Uh-huh. Horrendous.”
“But why would anyone take out his liver and kidneys?” Peter knew the answer, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.
“You know why. Organ trafficking. It’s the only explanation as to why this man was alive when his organs were removed. Obviously, they didn’t need him after they took what they wanted, so they just let him bleed out.”
“He didn’t die from his liver and kidneys being removed?”
The Doc shook his head. “Without them, he might have lived for a few hours, maybe even a day, if he’d been patched up. But, they didn’t bother. They just cut what they needed out of him and let him bleed to death. Utterly callous.”
“So, he clearly didn’t die under that tree.”
“No. They would have needed equipment and a sterile environment to perform the procedure. They wouldn’t have been able to risk contaminating the organs, or they would have become worthless. And the amount of blood this man lost would have saturated the area.”
“Organ trafficking? Wow. I thought I’d seen it all, Doc. But this is beyond belief.”
Doctor Riddle nodded. “It was a terrible way to go, that’s for sure. No one deserves to die like this.”
Peter agreed. He’d seen people getting blown apart by IEDs, people gunned down in the streets, murder victims with gunshot wounds – or in police vernacular, GSWs – and people who’d died from overdosing on whatever drug was popular that day, but this was an entirely new level of cruelty. To torture someone like that, remove his organs, and then throw the person away like they were trash was grotesque.
“Thanks, Doc.” Peter turned to leave.
“Peter, you have to catch these people. This is the first one we’ve found but…” Doctor Riddle trailed off.
Peter nodded. “I know. There might be others and even if there aren’t yet, there will be.”
“I’d rather not see a body like this on my table again.”
“I’ll do everything I can to stop them, Doc.” And he would.
* * *
The following morning, Diana stood on her balcony with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She took a sip every now and then as she looked out over the bay. Max was curled at her feet, snoring. Though it was too early in the morning for him to be up and about, he still liked being close to her.
She’d glance down every once in a while, the crime scene acting like a magnet for her eyeballs. She couldn’t seem to ignore it. She knew she shouldn’t get involved. In fact, she should stay as far away as possible from this case. But there was something about it that drew her like a moth to a flame.
Diana hated mysteries. She couldn’t just ignore them. It was impossible for her to simply leave questions unanswered. And in this case, she had so many questions.
Who was Leonardo Perez? Why had he been killed? Why had he been left outside her building? And what was with that cut from sternum to navel? It took gutting to a whole new level. Who would kill someone like that? It certainly didn’t seem like a crime of passion, unless the killer was beyond disturbed.
Diana groaned. “I’m not going down there.” But the yellow tape had been removed, and the tree beckoned to her. She shook her head. “No.” Determined, she went back inside to get her breakfast, with Max hot on her heels.
She put out dog food for him and got her chocolate granola and yogurt. Before long, though, she found herself wandering back to the balcony, breakfast bowl in hand. She glanced back down at the tree while munching on a spoonful of cereal. It was still early enough that there were only a few people strolling on the beach. There was a woman sitting on a bench, but she seemed to be engrossed in a magazine. And she was at least a hundred feet away.
Maybe she could just take another quick look, Diana thought. She’d only be doing her civic duty. After all, the forensics team had seemed to be in a rush, and they hadn’t come back, so maybe they missed something. It would be the right thing to do. She wouldn’t technically be poking her nose in. She’d just be helping. She nodded to herself. Yes, it was definitely the right thing to do. She was halfway out the door before she even finished the thought.
She walked out of the elevator and smiled a greeting at Jimmy, the day doorman, before bumping into one of her neighbors.
“Good morning, Mrs. Latham.”
“Good morning, Diana. Off for your run?” Mrs. Latham lived right across the hallway from Diana. She was a sweet old lady who didn’t have any family around, which was why Diana made sure to check in on her from time to time.
“Not this morning, Mrs. Latham. Just a quick stroll.” If she told the woman where she was going and why, she’d worry her needlessly. She was sur
prised the old lady hadn’t heard about the body. Mrs. Latham’s apartment was on the other side of the building from hers, so she wouldn’t have seen the commotion, but news traveled fast. Especially that type of news.
Mrs. Latham leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you hear that they found a dead body right by that tree yesterday morning?” The apartment block’s grapevine was working in its usual efficient manner, then. “They’re saying he had a huge gash on his chest and that it probably has something to do with drugs.” Apparently, the grapevine wasn’t just efficient, it was almost an information superhighway.
“Yes, I did hear about it, though I really have no idea what happened to him.” Diana was loathe to admit she’d been the one to find the body. She still wanted the chance to look over the crime scene before the area filled with people. If she told the old lady she’d found the dead man, it would be noon before she got away.
“I would have thought with you being a magazine editor, you’d know all about it.” Mrs. Latham looked positively dejected.
Diana smiled. “Well, I promise to find out what I can and tell you all about it.”
The woman’s face lit up. “You’re such a sweet girl. Thank you, Diana.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Latham, but I really have to go.”
The old lady nodded with a big smile on her face. “I’ll be waiting for news,” she said with a wink. Diana laughed and nodded.
Within moments, she was walking up to the tree. The beach was still relatively free of people, except for the woman on the bench, who was still reading. She seemed to be paying close attention to her magazine, though, so Diana focused her attention on the tree and the surrounding patch of grass and dirt.
With another look around to make sure she wasn’t attracting too much attention, she sank to her knees. There was a small smudge of blood at the base of the tree. Could it be from the victim? But if she remembered right, that spot of blood would have been immediately behind the man. So, how did it get there? Maybe it was old? It didn’t look old, though. As a matter of fact, it looked quite fresh.
She shrugged, trying to decide what to do about it. She could cut the piece of bark off the tree, put it in a plastic bag and take it to the police to be analyzed. But what if she contaminated it somehow? She didn’t have latex gloves with her or sterile equipment. Maybe she should just call Detective Hopkinson and let him take it from here. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d call the detective. But after she checked out the scene a little more. Who knows what else the forensics team had missed? She got down on all fours, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Like more blood stains.
As she circled the tree, she saw sunlight glint off something. Crawling over to it, she spotted what looked like a small triangle of plastic. Ignoring her earlier thoughts, she impulsively picked it up. She saw it was actually a plastic card. A keycard. And most of it had been buried in the dirt. It was also green. No wonder no one had noticed it. She tried to handle it as little as possible and put it in her shirt pocket. Of course, she had no idea if the keycard was related to the case, but it was a coincidence finding it that close to the tree.
She continued to study the ground, looking for anything else that might have been buried or overlooked. As she moved forward, a pair of oxfords suddenly appeared in her field of vision. The shoes paced forward and stopped right in front of her. Diana swallowed down a lump. She knew exactly to whom those shoes belonged. So, she took a moment and then raised her head slowly, taking in Detective Hot-kinson from feet to chest. She thought he’d been tall when she was standing. From this position, he looked even more imposing. And, she decided when her gaze locked with steely blue eyes, he didn’t look happy. “Busted,” she whispered to herself.
“This is probably a waste of my breath, but what exactly do you think you are doing here, Ms. Hunter?”
CHAPTER THREE
DIANA SMILED AT him sheepishly and jumped to her feet. “Enjoying the scenery?” Rather than a statement, it came out as more of a question.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, taking in her dusty appearance. “Enjoying the scenery?”
He said it as if he was testing the words. As if he couldn’t believe she’d actually said it. To her surprise, instead of reading her the riot act, he burst out laughing. He had a nice laugh. It was a deep rumble that pulled at the corners of her own lips. Before she knew what was happening, she joined in his laughter.
“I guess I could have come up with a better excuse,” she said, trying to take a deep breath.
“I think even walking your turtle would have been better,” he replied, still chuckling.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to show up, now was I?” she admonished.
“Oh, excuse me. Please accept my apologies. Next time I want to check over one of my own crime scenes, I’ll make sure to call you in advance and ask for permission.” He was still smiling. So, he was joking. Not being an ass. Not yet, anyway.
“Apology accepted, and it’s only polite to ask for permission,” she winked and he grinned.
Suddenly, they both sobered, remembering why they were there in the first place. A man had died. In a gruesome, diabolical way. “Did you find anything?” he asked, his tone brisk and all business.
She nodded. “I think so. See here?” she lowered herself to her haunches, indicating the spot of blood on the tree. “I’m assuming this is blood.”
He crouched to get a better look and nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“But it’s a bit strange. I’m sure the forensics team has photos, but if I remember correctly, this is about where the body was positioned, right?”
He nodded. “So, how did the blood end up on the bark behind him?”
“Precisely. The only explanation is that either it was there before and is unrelated to this case, which would be heck of a coincidence. Or, maybe it isn’t his.”
Detective Hopkinson gave her a curious look. “Why assume it’s not his? You have no idea how the body was handled when it was placed here. Maybe they dropped it and spattered the tree with blood.”
“Then wouldn’t there be more blood on the ground and over a larger area of the tree?” And since Diana always paid attention, she caught the slip. “And I was right. He wasn’t killed here, was he?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t be discussing an open case with a civvie.” The detective glared at her accusingly.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t force you at gunpoint to tell me anything.”
“Yeah, I put my foot in my mouth all by my lonesome,” he replied ruefully.
“Well, now that the damage has been done, let’s get back to it. So, he definitely wasn’t killed here, which makes it even more likely that the blood on the tree is someone else’s.” Diana looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to agree with her.
He looked at her curiously for a moment. “Enlighten me.”
She let out a frustrated growl. “Don’t you see? If he was killed somewhere else, by the time they brought him here, he’d already bled out. Otherwise, if he had still been bleeding when he was dumped, we’d have seen more evidence of blood. At least a few directional drops as he was being carried. But there’s nothing anywhere except for that spot on the bark.” She indicated the area around them, which was completely pristine. Not a drop of blood in sight.
“Now,” she continued without pausing, “I’m pretty sure whoever carried him here wouldn’t have had their hands or other body parts covered in his blood as it would have drawn too much attention. So, it stands to reason that this is the blood of one of the people who put him here. Maybe they nicked themselves when they leaned him against the tree, or maybe they were involved in whatever was done to him and they got cut without realizing it. Doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure it’s not his blood, and it could be an important clue.”
Diana took a deep breath and looked at Detective Hopkinson. By the look on his face, she’d done it again. Why did she never stop to think how he
r theories sounded when she said them aloud? To her, it was simply a matter of logic. To other people? Well, most people had the same reaction as the detective. They couldn’t understand how her mind worked, so they thought she was implicated in some way. But she never learned her lesson. She’d just keep rambling until everyone gave her the same suspicious look the detective was wearing now.
“You know what? Forget it,” she snapped.
He looked at her in surprise.
“Just forget it,” she repeated. She got to her feet and started to stomp off. He called after her, but she ignored him. And then she remembered the keycard. Damn! She stopped for a moment and turned around. Leonardo Perez was more important than her pride. So, she stalked back.
“I also found this,” she said, her tone curt. She pulled the card out of her pocket, making sure to only touch the edges. “It was buried in the dirt.” She glanced at the card, curiosity getting the better of her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “And it looks like it’s a keycard from a hotel that’s about two blocks from here. I recognize the address.”
“Do I really need to explain the concept of tampering with evidence and contaminating it?” Hopkinson barked. “What possessed you to even touch it? You should have called me right away.” He pulled out a latex glove and used it to take the keycard from her. He dropped it into an evidence bag, which he sealed and put back in his coat pocket.
“No, you don’t need to explain evidence tampering to me, but it was your forensics team that did a terrible job of covering the scene. I was just trying to help.”
Hopkinson sighed, shaking his head. “Next time, just call me before you pick evidence up. Please.” She nodded. “So, where did you find it?”
“Over there,” she said, pointing to the spot on the ground where she’d found the piece of plastic. “It was mostly buried under the dirt and grass, which is odd to say the least.”
He nodded. “It would be too much of a coincidence for it not to be related.”
Diana shrugged. She wasn’t feeling all that forthcoming anymore.
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