“Wait.”
Will strained to see in front of him. He could make out two uniformed police officers standing outside an open doorway, their regulation white shirts and badges glowing in the reflected light. Will was too exhausted to be curious. The thrill of being on the other side of police tape had passed years before.
“Let him through…stay over this way.”
The gurney moved again and Will opened his eyes, just in time to look through the door. It was an office and blood was on the walls and floor. A technician stepped carefully to take photos of the scene. The body was still there, a woman, nude, and badly slashed. Will studied the view with a trained eye, suddenly engaged. His stomach was turning to ice. His throat threatened to close.
“Stop!” Will tried to pull himself upright, got his trunk a quarter of the way up, and fell back. “Stop!” he said again.
“Are you nuts, man? You move around too much and you could reopen your sutures.” The orderly looked alarmed.
“That woman in there,” Will said. “Look at her left hand.”
“Yeah, she’s stone cold…”
“No, look at her left hand. What do you see?”
The orderly’s voice rose an octave. “Shit, man, somebody cut off her finger!”
“Come on, move along.”
Will knew the voice instantly and a tired, sour feeling enveloped him.
“What, you don’t see enough blood in your job…what’s this?” A broad ebony face bent down and surveyed Will. “Well, well, Internal Investigations will do anything to sneak up on real working police.”
Homicide Detective J. J. Dodds assumed his usual lordly stance. He was not merely big but downright fat. He grew fatter every year, regularly outgrowing his suits. Will didn’t know how he passed his annual physical. He did know how to dress, though. Tonight Dodds wore a blue pinstriped suit, starched dress shirt, and a burgundy tie.
“What the hell happened to you, Borders? Having a boil removed from your ass?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Oh, yeah, what? You look like shit.”
The orderly asked, “You guys know each other?”
“Yeah, I arrested him once,” Dodds said. “Morals charge.”
Will ignored him and nodded toward the room. “That victim. Did you see her hand?”
“I saw. Why are you here? Enlighten me.” A moment before the cops had been rushing them by. Now Dodds’ meaty hand held the gurney fast. The orderly sighed loudly and lounged against the wall. A few feet away stood the pretty nurse he had seen on the elevator going down. Her clothes were streaked with blood and her face was ashen.
“What ailment, Borders? Surely not something in the line of duty.”
Will’s throat was still sore from the intubation for surgery. He swallowed hard and wished he had some water. “A spinal cord tumor, okay?”
“Spinal cord what?” Dodds’ exotic, cynical eyes widened. Then he blinked the moment away. “I’ve got a bad back, too.”
“Her hand, Dodds. Her hand.”
“I saw it.” He lounged nonchalantly against the rails of the gurney.
“Dodds…”
“What are you telling me, Borders? That you believe in ghosts? The Mount Adams Slasher died at Lucasville last summer.”
“Maybe he wasn’t the Slasher.”
Dodds lifted the sheet and studied Will. “Shit, you’ve got tubes coming out of you. That’s gross. You in pain?”