Sachs turned. Oh, great. It was the GQ cop. The one who'd been flirting with her on the taxiway. He strode up to the ambulance.

"Hi, honey. Me again. How's your police tape holdin' up? Whatcha got, Earl?"

"One body, no hands." Earl yanked the door open, reached in, and unzipped the body bag. Blood flowed out onto the floor of the ambulance.

"Ooops." Earl winked. "Say, Jim, after you're through here, wanna get some spaghetti?"

"Mebbe pig's knuckles."

"There's a thought."

Rhyme interrupted. "Sachs, what's going on there? You got the body?"

"I've got it. Trying to figure out the story." To the medic she said, "We've gotta move on this. Anybody have any idea who he is?"

"Wasn't anything around to ID him. No missing persons reported. Nobody saw nothing."

"Any chance he's a cop?"

"Naw. Nobody I know," Jim said. "You, Earl?"

"Nup. Why?"

Sachs didn't answer. She said, "I need to examine him."

"Okay, miss," Earl said. "How 'bout I give you a hand?"

"Hell," the trooper said, "sounds like he's the one needs a hand." He chuckled; the medic gave another of his piggy giggles.

She climbed up in the back of the ambulance and unzipped the body bag completely.

And because she wasn't going to tug off her jeans and have intercourse with them or at the very least flirt back, they had no choice but to torment her further.

"The thing is, this isn't the kind of traffic detail you're probably used to," Earl said to her. "Hey, Jim, this as bad as the one you saw last week?"

"That head we found?" The cop mused, "Hell, I'd rather have a fresh head any day than a month-er. You ever seen a month-er, honey? Now, they're about as unpleasant as can be. Give a body three, four months in the water, hey, not a problem--mostly just bones. But you get one's been simmering for a month . . . "

"Nasty," Earl said. "Uck-o."

"You ever seen a month-er, honey?"

" 'Preciate your not saying that, Jim," she said absently to the cop.

" 'Month-er'?"

" 'Honey.'"

"Sure, sorry."

"Sachs," Rhyme snapped, "what the hell is going on?"

"No ID, Rhyme. Nobody's got a clue as to who it is. Hands removed with a fine-bladed razor saw."

"Is Percey safe? Hale?"

"They're in the office. Banks's with them. Away from the windows. What's the word on the van?"

"Should be there in ten minutes. You've got to find out about that body."

Tags: Jeffery Deaver Lincoln Rhyme Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net