“You’re not going to ruin my career. You’re not. I’m a good cop.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He waited, as if he expected her to lose her temper and spill her guts. Stupid people spilled their guts. And she sure as shit wasn’t stupid. This ass was not going to ruin her life.
He glanced at the burn phone and pulled up the new text message. Attached was a picture of Leah. She was talking to a man. Laughing. This wasn’t the first text with pictures of Leah attached. They’d started four weeks ago and arrived several times a week. She was always smiling or laughing. In the gym. Enjoying a glass of wine. At the clinic. The message was clear. Her spirit had not been broken.
This not-so-subtle trail of bread crumbs from Officer Deidre Jones was designed to lure and eventually trap. But traps were tricky. If the trapper wasn’t careful, the coil could spring closed unexpectedly and snare the wrong person.
He slid behind the wheel of his truck and lowered the sun visor. Attached to the visor was a picture of his wife. He unclipped it and studied the image, taken on their wedding day. His wife had a bright smile and a spark in her blue gaze.
God, she’d been so damn pretty that day. He traced the line of the white wedding dress that hugged her curves and skimmed her thighs. They’d been through a lot. Weathered a lot of storms. A part of him really wanted to renew their vows and wish all the past darkness away. Start fresh.
He typed a simple message. YOU’VE GOT MY ATTENTION.
WHERE’RE YOU?
IN TOWN.
He barely hesitated before he typed. I WANT TO SEE YOU.
WHY?
OLD TIMES’ SAKE.
Deidre’s visit and her connection to John Doe weighed on Alex’s mind as he entered Exam Room Two for the autopsy of the John Doe found last night in the warehouse.
Standing at the head of the table was Dr. Miriam Heller, a pathologist with the state medical examiner’s office. Tall, thin, she wore scrubs and athletic shoes and her dark hair skimmed back in a smooth ponytail.
As she pulled on rubber gloves, she glanced up. “Agent Morgan,” she said. “It’s been a while since I had the pleasure.”
“Dr. Heller.” Both his brothers had worked with the doctor on multiple homicides, and they respected her work.
“I hear you’ve joined the dark side. Working a homicide.”
“Never a dull moment.” He removed his suit jacket, neatly folded it, and carefully laid it over a chair. He then rolled up his sleeves and donned a gown and rubber gloves.
“And your partner in crime, where is he?”
“Deke’s on his way.”
She moved to the head of the stainless-steel table where the body lay under a white sheet. Dr. Heller’s assistant, a short woman with brown, curly hair, approached the table with a sterile instrument tray and set it on a stand to the doctor’s right. Dr. Heller switched on the overhead light and tugged a hanging microphone closer to her mouth just as Deke pushed through the doors. “Ah, now we can start the party.”
Deke threw off an overcoat and tossed it over a chair. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Dr. Heller. People talk.”
She laughed. “Good. Nothing like a little gossip to get us all through this long winter.”
He donned a gown and gloves and joined Alex at the table.
Dr. Heller cleared her throat and switched on the mike. “This is Dr. Miriam Heller, and I’m with Detective Deke Morgan and TBI Agent Alex Morgan. I’m autopsying a John Doe found last night in a warehouse on the East Side of town on the Cumberland River.”
Her assistant picked up a digital camera from the stainless-steel workbench and readied herself to take pictures as Dr. Heller pulled off the sheet.
In the clear light of day, the body took on a grotesqueness that last night’s shadows had softened. The peeling skin was charred black, and what remained of the extremities had curled inward.
Alex took a mental step back from the carnage lying before him and focused on evidence and facts. “Let’s see what he can tell us.”
Dr. Heller winked. “I’m sure he has a few secrets to share.”
She began with a Y incision in the chest cavity and began a step-by-step analysis of the internal organs. She declared all healthy and of normal size until her fingers brushed the heart. As she lifted the enlarged organ from the body, even a layman could see the fatal bullet had shredded the heart. She laid the heart down and carefully dissected it until she exposed the bullet. She grabbed it with a pair of forceps and dropped it in a metal pan.
“This is a male subject who appears to be anywhere from late twenties to late forties. Cause of death was a bullet wound to the heart, which sliced through his left coronary artery. Other than the damage from the bullet, I do notice that several arteries are blocked, which leads me to correct my first assessment of age. I’d say the victim was well into his late thirties and likely older. Lungs indicate he was a heavy smoker.” Her catalogue of his major organs complete, she moved to his arms. She noted the hands had been severed, but the cuts had not been clean. Dismembering had taken several chops to remove the right and then the left hand. The scenario mirrored the removal of the feet and the head.
“Was there a lot of blood at the scene?” Dr. Heller asked.
“No,” Deke said.
“So he was killed and dismembered elsewhere?” she asked.
“Yes,” Deke said. “Where is the million-dollar question.”
With the help of her assistant, Dr. Heller rotated the body on its side and photographed the back, which was covered with tattoos. The fire had so damaged the skin, the images were nearly unrecognizable.
“He liked the ink,” Dr. Heller said. “We might be able to analyze the photos and come up with a tattoo that can be identified, but that will take time.”
Deke frowned. “Whatever you can give us will help.” He glanced at Alex. “See any connections yet?”
Alex thought again about Deidre’s visit today. She’d played it cool, but he’d sensed her nerves jumping. She was hiding something. “Not yet. But I will. Do what you can to reclaim any of the tattoos. They might help identify the victim.”
When Deidre arrived at home, it was dark and cold. She was tired, ready for a glass of wine and an evening with David. A good roll in the sack would take the edge off the nerves banding her neck and shoulders. But sex and wine would have to wait. The nerves humming in her body needed to remain sharp.
As she fished her keys out of her purse, she stepped inside her darkened town house and flipped on an entry light. She dumped her purse and keys on the table and then carefully stepped out of her shoes, avoiding a glance in the hallway mirror that would toss back too many recriminations. Soon, she’d be able to look herself in the eye again.
On the table sat a framed picture of two young girls. The picture of Deidre and her younger sister had been taken over twenty years earlier. When she’d left Tyler, this photograph, along with her computer and clothes, had been the one personal item she’d taken with her. A second image, which she’d brought from the office, sat next to the first. It featured her surrounded by a half-dozen guys. They were all grinning and standing in front of three million dollars of seized cocaine. That had been one hell of a day.
The pictures reminded her of her priorities. Family and the job.
/>
Moving into the kitchen, she reached for a bottle of wine and then stopped herself. Instead, she filled a glass with tap water and took a liberal sip. Wished it were stronger, but knew it wasn’t about what she wanted but what she needed.
Pressing the glass to her temple, she tried to imagine Morgan’s face if she were to explain her plan. He would not approve of the methods, but he would like the end result. Maybe after it was all said and done, she’d tell him. That startled a laugh from her. Likely not.
She’d learned the hard way to keep her own counsel. No exceptions, ever.
Glass in hand, she backtracked into the entryway and reached in her purse for her cell. She dialed Leah’s number. David would have to wait.
Leah answered on the third ring. “Leah, this is Deidre. Wondering if you’d like to grab some dinner tonight?”
“That sounds so nice. But I’m running on empty. That run today plus work wiped me out.”
Deidre glanced at her short fingernails. “You’re not getting soft on me, are you?”
“Ha! I’m the least alpha of the group. Safe to say I’m not getting soft. I am soft.”
A chuckle rumbled in her throat. “I’d like to get together this week to talk. I kind of touched on my divorce stuff and, well, I just got the sense that you understand.”
A heavy silence crackled. “Better than I wish. What’s going on?”
Deidre didn’t have to dig deep on this one. “My soon-to-be ex-husband made me sign over the house to him or he said he wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. I know I’ll never live there again, but it hurts to have it taken away.”
“You don’t want to fight for it?” Irritation edged Leah’s voice.
“I want my freedom more. We sign the final papers in two and a half days.” She dangled the bait, hating it as she reminded herself that the end justified the means.