Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

Peabody pulled an energy bar out of her pocket. “Emergency food. May help.”

“That is in no way food.”

“It’s crap, but it helps.” Peabody broke it in half, held a portion out to Eve.

“Fine. Thanks. Let’s see what Morris can tell us.” As they headed out, Eve took a bite. “It’s terrible. What is it?”

“Honey Nougat Cluster Pop.”

“Now it’s somehow even worse.”

But thinking of what lay ahead, Eve choked down the rest.

16

Eve found Morris completing his Y-cut on Miko Carver, while a voice that sounded like an angel soared through the room.

Xavier Carver lay on a second slab, cleaned and prepped for autopsy.

“I’m sorry to see you again so soon.” Morris, his midnight-blue suit protected by his cloak, deftly spread Miko’s ribs.

Eve heard Peabody swallow hard, snapped, “Suck it up.”

More tolerant of the reaction, Morris gestured to the friggie tucked away near the cold drawers reserved for the dead. “Water, fizzies, and our lieutenant’s Pepsi. Have something cool. Music volume decrease to three.”

As Peabody gratefully headed to the friggie, her gaze averted from the slab, for now, the angel’s voice lowered to a loving murmur.

“I know I’m pushing it,” Eve said, “but I wanted to see what, if anything, you have before I go into Central.”

“I’ll be able to tell you more in an hour or two. My initial exam on the female confirms she was pregnant at the time of her death. Five to six weeks. The cuts along her torso are shallow, most likely inflicted by a thin, sharp blade.”

“Like the others.”

“Yes, like the others. She was raped, multiple times. Sodomized. I need to complete my examination to confirm, but I believe the sodomy was a single incident. And postmortem.”

“He sodomized her after he killed her?”

“I need to confirm, but that’s my preliminary opinion. We could consider it a blessing she had passed before that final, ugly act, but I also believe her death was slow and painful. I’ll need to confirm your on-scene evaluation of strangulation as COD, but at this point I agree with it.”

He gestured her forward. Peabody stepped up, offered Eve a tube of Pepsi.

Distracted, Eve stuck the tube in her coat pocket, leaned closer to examine the neck wounds as Morris did.

“Even without the goggles or the comp enhancement, you can see several wounds that are distinct and of varying degrees.”

“Choked her, let her revive, choked her, let her revive. Repeat.”

“Yes, until he increased the pressure and the length of time, depriving her of air, and crushed her windpipe.”

“He’s good at it.” Peabody sipped from her tube of ginger ale, bearing down on the queasiness. “Good and controlled enough not to go too far, to keep her coming back until he decided to finish it.”

“It’s part of the rape,” Eve said. “Her body convulses, she struggles for air, her eyes roll back. It’s an orgasm to him. The postmortem anal rape, that’s new. Maybe he wanted to try the new, or maybe he wanted another bump, or maybe it had something to do with the show.”

“Show?” Morris repeated.

“Whatever stage he’d set, whatever costume he’d chosen. She fought, struggled, tore her wrists up fighting the restraints. She’d have told him she was pregnant. It would be at the top of her mind. ‘Please, don’t. I’m pregnant.’ What did he think of that?”

She looked over at the male victim. “Can you confirm he died first?”