Kerry’s job at the M.E.’s office was drawing to a close. They’d identified three of the four victims found in the mass gravesite, and a fellow anthropologist at Brahman was helping to make a two-dimensional model of the female’s head that had been stolen. Given her overreactive mental state, she wasn’t ready to face John about the theft of the skull. The possibility of prison scared the shit out of her, and she refused to lose her license to practice anthropology because she was trying to do her job. She’d find the skull if it was the last act of her free life.
Kerry studied #3’s bones, hoping to find something to tie the victim to Dr. Dalton. She slapped the cold table at the lack of evidence.
The eerie silence in the building prevented her from concentrating. No squeaking gurneys to distract her, no racing footsteps, no buzzing of excited voices zipping down the hall.
Kerry even missed Sheri, the receptionist who she’d seen flirt with Hunter a time or two. The girl had obviously taken an early weekend.
Her only break came when Steven had wandered in and seemed to be in a chatty mood. Since Dr. A was in his office slammed with paperwork, Steven must have nothing better to do than bother her.
He nodded to #3. “So, who do you think did her in?”
Poor choice of words in her opinion. “My job is to find out her identity, who loved this woman, who’s missing her, not who killed her.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” He hopped up on the counter. “You and your detective have any guesses who might have done this terrible thing?”
His sincerity made her regret her sharp tone. “He has his theories.”
“Like what? Maybe I can help.”
He’d seen his share of death, so maybe he could help. “All of the women were pregnant.”
He scrunched up his face. “That’s sick. Did you see if they had the same OB/GYN?”
“No, but that’s a good thought.”
He smiled and leaned forward. “What else?”
“All the woman had been associated with a local shelter.”
“Is there someone in the shelter who would want to harm the women?”
“Not that we’re aware of.” She wasn’t sure if she should spill all the beans about the investigation, but Stephen might have some good ideas given he was in med school. “There’s one other thing they have in common.”
“What?”
“They all had plastic surgery before they died.”
His lips puckered. “That’s a big coincidence. Don’t you find it odd that women from the shelter could afford plastic surgery?”
“If they’ve been abused, the shelter has doctors who do Pro Bono work.”
He slid off the counter. “And you think one of those doctors would fix up the women, then kill them?” He laughed. “That’s a crazy idea.”
A rush of anger surfaced. “It’s not crazy when we found out the same man was the surgeon for all the women.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr. Paul Dalton.”
Steven’s face paled. “I’ve heard of that guy. He’s a legend. No way would he hurt anyone.” He was practically shouting.
“Maybe, but as I said, it’s only a theory.”
Steven’s stiff shoulders relaxed. “Gotta go. Let me know if anything else turns up.”
With that, he slipped out. Kerry finished cleaning up and started her paperwork. She was about to call Hunter and tell him she was ready to call it a day when her autopsy door swung open and smashed against the back wall. Steven’s hands gripped the doorframe, his face gaunt.
“What’s wrong?” She tensed.
“You gotta come. Dr. A just called. The police uncovered another mass burial pit. They need you.”
Her mind shattered into pieces. “I thought he was in his office doing paperwork.”
“So did I, but he got the call and left, apparently.”
“I need a second to gather my tools.”
She’d unpacked her bag to clean the brushes and tools. The items lay strewn on the black countertop. Kerry scooped them up tools. “Can you hand me that brown satchel over there?”
Between her work and Steven’s help, they managed to collect her gear in under five minutes. Kerry and Steven ran down the empty corridor, the sounds of their feet slapping against the linoleum floor. Dr. Ahern would have shovels in his medical examiner’s van.
By the time they made it to the parking lot, Kerry was out of breath. The high humidity sucked the rest of the air from her lungs. At least the black clouds scudding above blocked out the intense heat of the sun.
“Let me help with your gear.” He opened the trunk of his car.
“Why are we taking your car?” she said.
He shut the lid, jumped in the driver’s seat and started the engine. He rolled down the window and waved her to get in. “Dr. A took his usual van. The one I often use is locked, and I couldn’t find the keys. Maybe Dr. A took the keys with him. He was in a rush. Come on, get in.”
As if on autopilot, Kerry obeyed. They headed toward the interstate, hitting all the green lights. Kerry wasn’t ready for more tragedy. Shards of pain shredded her belly. “Did they find skeletal remains?” Or would she have to look at bodies blown to smithereens.
“Kind of. Whoever did this burned the bodies before burying them. Identification is going to be a real bitch.”
“Oh, God.” Images of charred bones, the stench of burnt flesh raced through her mind. While no crime scene was pleasant, this one would be particularly bad.
They rode in silence as Steven headed north on the I-275. Near Busch Boulevard, a torrent of rain blasted them, making the roads slick, and the traffic slowed to a crawl. Several cars had pulled off to the side, but Steven drove through the storm.
They passed Bearss Avenue where #4’s mother lived. The next exit was twelve miles away. “Where is this site?”
“Off 54.” He sounded excited, almost as though this were some grand adventure.
“Do you help at crime scenes often?” Maybe this is what seemed to rev his engine.
“Not until now. Dr. A. said because of the holiday, we’re short staffed. He asked me to help.”
Kerry was pleased for him. She understood how much becoming a doctor meant to him. Though digging in the rain would not be fun. Some Fourth of July.
Hunter. Damn. Given it was five already, she probably would be working late into evening. Kerry wanted to let him know he didn’t need to pick her up until quite late. She twisted around to the back seat to get her purse. Darn it. Steven must have dumped all her stuff in the trunk.
“Do you have a cell? I need to call Hunter.”
“Sorry. Mine’s dead.”
Steven took the State Road 54 exit and headed east past a several new condo developments that sat on the east side of the road. The rain abruptly halted as quickly as it had begun.
He turned north on Bruce B. Downs. The developed land disappeared and the road narrowed to two lanes.
“Whoever buried these people didn’t want anyone to find this site, did they?” She kept her tone upbeat, attempting to squash the sick feeling in her gut.
Steven made a sharp right turn down an unpaved road. Kerry looked for the sheriff’s cruisers, the M.E.’s van, or any sign the CSU team had arrived. Nothing. Off to the right, amidst a forest of shade trees sat a Port–O-Potty and about a five hundred square foot slice of cleared land. Only an abandoned tractor graced the property. Thoughts of the digger man, Willie, entered her mind. Gina had been convinced Willie was somehow tied to the killings. Now, he too was dead.
Steven pulled off the dirt road and parked under the trees. Kerry unlocked her door and jumped out, needing air, needing her freedom. Steven popped the trunk.
She looked around. “Where is everyone?” she said. “I thought Dr. A was already at the site?”
Steven didn’t answer. He pulled something from the trunk. She leaned over to grab her purse, when Steven’s hand clamped down on her wrist. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”
She turned. His eyes had a wild fury in them, and his mouth was twisted into a sneer. “What’s going on? I need to call Hunter.”
“There are no bodies here, Kerry—at least not yet.”
Before she could respond, Steven stabbed a needle into her arm.
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