Gwyn was looking at the two of them like they’d lost their minds. ‘What kind of metal?’
‘Not metal,’ Thorne said. ‘Medal. Like a trophy.’ He scrubbed at his face with his palms, suddenly numb. ‘There was one stuck in Richard Linden’s body, in about the same place. A medal with a key attached.’
‘So this is a copycat murder,’ Gwyn said.
Thorne shook his head. ‘The medal wasn’t made public. I mean, I saw it when I was trying to stop his bleeding, but when his body got to the morgue, it was gone.’
Seven
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 12 June, 11.55 P.M.
Gwyn was staring at Thorne. ‘It was just . . . gone? How could a medal have just disappeared from a dead body?’
Jamie set the magnifier aside, his hands trembling.
Patricia Linden Segal’s murderer was no ordinary copycat. It was somebody who knew details that weren’t public.
Jamie rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘We thought at the time that one of the EMTs or morgue employees took it. We never knew why. We didn’t press, because it was better for Thorne that it disappeared.’
Gwyn’s frown deepened. ‘Why?’
‘Because I had one of those medals,’ Thorne said. He swallowed hard, forcing back the bile that burned his throat. ‘They were given to everyone on the soccer team for making it to the state championships that year. I put mine with all my other trophies in my bedroom, but Richard had a hole bored in his and made it into a key ring. That’s what I saw shoved into his gut. It still had a key on it.’
‘But it disappeared,’ Jamie reiterated. ‘And so had Thorne’s.’
Phil stood behind Thorne, hands covering his shoulders. ‘Thorne’s mother and stepfather cleared out his room when he was arrested. By the time we got him out on bail, they’d put all this things on the curb and the garbage truck had come by and taken them.’
Thorne watched Gwyn’s expression morph from shock to sympathy to rage.
‘Everything?’ she asked.
‘Everything,’ Thorne confirmed. ‘Every photo, comic book, piece of clothing. All my CDs. All my trophies. All my notes from classes. My bicycle. Everything.’
Jamie’s voice was bitter. ‘When he came to us, he didn’t even have the shirt on his back, because he’d used it to try to stop Richard’s bleeding.’
Gwyn swallowed hard, her expression going carefully neutral. Which meant her temper was boiling. ‘So you didn’t know where your medals were. Which meant that you couldn’t prove it wasn’t one of yours in the body.’
‘Essentially,’ Thorne said quietly.
‘So who did know about the medal in Richard Linden’s body?’
Jamie sighed. ‘Thorne knew. And the real killer, obviously, assuming he was the one who’d put it there. The EMT would have seen it. Possibly the morgue tech, if it was still there when the body was cleaned up. Whoever plucked it out of the body knew about it.’
‘The cops knew.’ Thorne’s jaw tightened, remembering. ‘Because I told them. I told Detective Prew. I don’t think he believed me.’
Jamie looked sick. ‘I advised Thorne not to press it. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.’ He ran a shaking hand through his hair. ‘Shit.’ But then he looked up and over Thorne’s shoulder, meeting Phil’s eyes. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he promised, making a visible effort to be calm.
‘I know,’ Phil said unsteadily, his hands clenching on Thorne’s shoulders protectively. Almost painfully.
‘It means that whoever killed Patricia Segal did not get all his info from court transcripts,’ Thorne said, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
‘But it would have been in the police report.’ Gwyn cocked her head. ‘Right? If you’d told the police you’d seen it, the detective would have listed that in the report. Patricia’s murderer could still have gotten the info that way.’
Thorne shook his head. ‘No. It didn’t end up in the police report either.’
She blinked. ‘Why not?’
‘Don’t know.’ He closed his eyes. ‘But I saw the report, and it wasn’t there. There were moments when I thought I’d fabricated it in my mind. That I was delusional.’
‘I imagine it’s normal to second-guess yourself in that situation,’ she said quietly. ‘You were so young and under so much stress. Grieving Sherri.’ A beat of silence. ‘Did Sherri see it?’
Surprised at the question, he opened his eyes to see hers narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see it until right at the end. Just before the cops showed up. I’d been using my shirt as a makeshift bandage, so that I could put pressure on the wound. But it was so huge, the wound. It soaked my shirt, so I took off my T-shirt to use, and when I removed the first shirt, that was when I got a glimpse of the medal with the key in the wound. Sherri was on the phone up by the office by then. Seconds later, the place was swarming with cops. So if you’re wondering if she was killed for seeing that, no. Unlikely anyway.’
‘That was what I was wondering. What was the key to?’
It was Thorne’s turn to blink. ‘I have no idea. Never even thought to wonder.’
‘You’re wondering if the key itself was the reason it was removed from Richard’s body?’ Jamie asked, respect in his tone.
Gwyn shrugged. ‘It just seems like a weird thing to steal off a body. It didn’t have any real worth. Not like Richard was a celebrity or the medal was from the Olympics or anything. The medal wasn’t diamond-encrusted and . . . I mean, ew. They had to stick their hand in a frickin’ body to get it. That’s just gross.’
Jamie seemed to be considering the notion. ‘Not if the EMT took it, or someone in the morgue. EMTs get bloody on a routine basis, and morgue employees can’t be too grossed out by bodies or they wouldn’t last long. We need to add the names of the EMTs and the morgue personnel to our list of people to interview.’
Thorne suddenly felt a million years old. ‘I don’t remember their names.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jamie said. ‘But they’re listed in the court transcripts because they testified for the prosecution. I’ve got all those files in a box in the basement.’
‘I can fetch it for you,’ Thorne offered, but Jamie shook his head.
‘That’s okay. I know exactly where it is.’ And he had a small elevator that transported him to the basement and back again.
Thorne knew better than to argue, so he just nodded.
‘Well,’ Gwyn said on a sigh, ‘the ME is going to find the medal in Patricia’s body, if he hasn’t already. He’ll tell Hyatt’s detectives and they’ll ask you questions about it. What will you tell them?’
‘The truth,’ Thorne said without hesitation.
Phil’s hands clenched again, and Thorne winced but said nothing because he sensed that Phil was holding on by a thread.
‘I think that’s the wisest thing at this point,’ Phil murmured. ‘Offer nothing. Answer what you can when asked. Besides, many of us saw Richard with the medal after he’d made it into a key ring. Your coach thought he was a total dickhead for drilling a hole in it, by the way. Any one of the old teaching staff still around can ID it as belonging to Richard.’ Giving Thorne’s shoulders a final pat, Phil moved away, clearing the mugs from the table to the sink, and Thorne noticed with a start that the older man’s face had grown gray. ‘Phil? You okay?’
Phil smiled. ‘Of course. Just tired.’ He pointed to the clock on the wall. ‘We’re seeing Prew at nine thirty tomorrow morning, so we should get some sleep. Rush hour’s a bitch. I’ll get you some sheets and blankets, Gwyn.’ He moved slowly, and Thorne was distressed to realize that age was creeping up on the two men who’d taken him in when he’d had no one.
On Phil, at least. Jamie still looked ten years younger than his partner. He always had. He’d been nearly forty that day in the jail, but Thorne remembered thinking he looked about thirty. Which had seemed ancient at the time.
He stayed Phil with a touch to his arm. ‘I’ll take the sofa,’ he said. ‘Gwyn can sleep in my room.’
Gwyn frowned. ‘No, I’m taking the sofa. You’ll never fit.’