Matt had never understood why he saw the dead—or why the dead seemed to talk to him. He hadn’t had a traumatic life; he’d had a good one, with great parents and a solid education. A family friend had assisted in getting him into Virginia Military Institute. He’d served in the military, and after that, he’d decided he wanted the FBI. He’d heard about the Krewe of Hunters and known he wanted in. He also knew that the Krewe invited its agents to join; it wasn’t something you applied for. So he’d waited patiently.
He’d seen and communicated with the dead since he was a kid, but he’d realized that others didn’t. And he’d also realized that if you wanted to be taken seriously, you didn’t tell anyone that you spoke to the dead.
After several years in the FBI and that one particular case, he’d been invited in. He’d been happy to be with the Krewe. No more pretense.
So, that morning, he hadn’t questioned Jackson. They’d find out soon enough exactly what they were looking at.
It hadn’t taken them long to reach the OCME; their offices in Alexandria weren’t that far from it. He liked their new location, a pair of beautiful old row houses that were also host to FBI internet personnel, other agents and some civilian employees. They could easily commute to the Capitol and the facilities at Quantico.
So far, Matt had learned that they’d been specifically called in when the second body was found. While three killings officially called for a serial killer investigation, the brutality done to both women had caused the captain of the Maryland force to alert the FBI. The assistant director at headquarters had called Adam Harrison, and Adam had directed Jackson to take the case.
But while the situation was grim and the perpetrator obviously a heinous killer, there didn’t seem to be much reason for the Krewe to be called in. Nothing seemed to hint at the paranormal; this was murder at its most brutal, but sadly, such killers had existed before and would again. He’d eventually learn the whys of this case. Right now, they needed to learn what they could from the body—and from the DC cop, Carl Hunter, who’d been the detective called to the scene.
“The cause of death was the slashed throat?” Matt asked, after the ME, Dr. Wong, finished listing the injuries to the body. He spoke through a paper mask, as had the doctor. The smell of decay was strong.
Wong was a bright man in his early forties, clear and concise in his manner. He looked at Matt and nodded. “The throat was slashed. It would’ve taken the victim time to exsanguinate, and some of the slicing on the body was performed before death, but she was so heavily drugged that I don’t think she felt anything, including the slash to her throat.”
“I understand it was a right-handed killer,” Detective Hunter said. “That’s correct, Dr. Wong?”
Carl’s voice sounded scratchy. Matt understood. Carl was a good guy; they’d met during a few earlier cases. The man was a dogged investigator, putting in long hours. He was nearing retirement, but hadn’t slacked off in the time or determination he gave a case.
He’d seen a lot.
This was still hard to tolerate.
“Yes,” Wong said. “He was right-handed and very certain in his movements. No hesitation marks at all. The guy’s done this before.”
“Were any organs taken?” Jackson Crow asked.
“The tongue is missing,” Wong said. He cleared his throat. “Bits of organs are missing—but that’s because the ripping of the stomach caused pieces to...fall out.”
Matt leaned forward to see the atrocity Wong showed them, setting a hand on the dead woman’s shoulder as he viewed her ruined mouth.
Her shoulder was cold, cold as ice. It was shocking what the body felt like when life was gone, so still and cold, as if the soul, the very essence of what had been human, had flown and left emptiness behind. “Same as the victim found on the Maryland shore,” Carl Hunter said, turning to Wong. “I talked to Jared Welch from the Maryland force before I came in. People might say that cops are territorial, but we’re both glad as hell that the feds are in. God knows, we might have got into this thing first, but we haven’t come up with anything. Both bodies brought in with no purses, no IDs, hell, no clothes. Just unidentified bodies, naked and ripped to shreds. We don’t have any leads at all and this killer...has to be stopped.”
Wong told them, “I haven’t seen the first body yet, but I have the report. The other victim will be transported here. As you requested, Special Agent Crow, we’re treating them as murders committed by the same perpetrator or perpetrators.”
“Right,” Jackson murmured. “The taking of the tongue—it’s a definite signature. I’m afraid it suggests this killer isn’t finished yet. We’ll need every law enforcement officer in the area on high alert.”
Two dead in less than a month, Matt thought.