“The other wound is high-risk because of proximity to veins and arteries. Whoever took care of him knew to leave it alone.”
“So,” Nikki said, “Damon got some kind of aid, but off the books.” She stood and stretched her back. “And he wasn’t dead when he went in the river?”
“Doubtful. See all the bruising here?” Lauren traced her finger along the discoloration on his face and chest. “That seems consistent with impact when he hit the water. And I just saw evidence of clotting where the sutures tore on wound two. That wouldn’t happen if he’d been dead. I’ll be able to check for mast cells to confirm when I get back to my microscope. Also, I’ll check his lungs in the post. If he was alive, he’ll have river water in them.”
As the detectives and Rook left for their cars, Lauren held Nikki back to speak in confidence. “I’m still stressing Nicole Bernardin’s messed-up tox test.”
“Obviously not your fault, Laur. And Irons is on it now.”
“Is he? I had Security pull our surveillance tapes so they didn’t get recorded over, but when I called Captain Irons to arrange getting them, he said to call Detective Hinesburg and I never got a call back.”
“Typical,” said Heat. “I’ll put Raley on it. He’s King of All Surveillance Media, you know.”
“What about Irons? Won’t that piss him off?”
“Doctor, as long as he’s out of my way, I truly don’t care.”
The atmosphere in the bull pen was crackling when Heat walked in, and she called a squad meeting to kick up the momentum. But first, she had to clear a few gnats out of the way. Lon King had left Nikki a message reminding her to make a shrink appointment. She balled up the note and trashed it. Dealing with the Iron Man wasn’t quite as easy.
The captain found her in the kitchen while she was getting coffee. “Detective Heat, I assume, since Carter Damon is off the boards, we can now close this case out and release our overtime personnel?”
“How is it over? He was one player, the way I see it.”
“He killed your Navy SEAL friend, right? He probably did the lady in the suitcase, too.”
“Probably isn’t the same as proving. And there’s still my mother.”
“So you don’t think it’s convenient he was lead on that case?”
“Good question,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I’m going to do my job and investigate it.” She left him standing in the kitchen without a glance back.
Detective Heat still had plenty of questions troubling her. With Sharon Hinesburg off God knew where, and Irons in the kitchen making toaster waffles, she was able to share them with her brain trust gathered at the Murder Boards. In the green square she had created for Don’s case, Nikki printed “Carter Damon” in block letters and said, “OK, we solved Don’s killing.”
“We? More like you and Mr. Sauer,” said Detective Malcolm, kicking off a small round of applause that she quelled with one glance.
“But,” she continued, “one solve opens a slew of other questions.”
Raley said, “Sure, because Don wasn’t the target, you were.”
“Correct. So we’re right back to, why come after me?”
“Simple,” said Reynolds. “You were digging into your mother’s case.”
“But I was always digging into that case. Does anyone here doubt a week went by that I didn’t check into it?” Nobody challenged that. “And why would he be the one to come after me?” She turned and wrote under Carter Damon’s name: “What stake in murders?”
“I know why he came after you,” said Rook. “You lit up the radar. Not just by digging into your mother’s case—you were digging way back in her case. That upset somebody. If not Carter Damon, somebody he worked with.”
“Or for,” said Feller, finding himself in rare agreement with the writer. “I mean, Damon was a blunt instrument. Guys like that follow instructions, take their pay, and spend Saturdays waxing the car.”