“Call me and let me know what you learn. Don’t worry about coming back here tonight. There’s nothing that can’t wait, but call me.”
Nodding, I stood and rushed to my cubicle. Turning off my computer, I grabbed my partially charged cell phone and purse and headed out, all the while avoiding my coworkers’ eyes. I hoped it looked as if I were heading out to chase another lead, not to possibly identify the body of my missing best friend.
Skipping the elevator, I hurried down the back steps to the garage and got in my car. As I drove toward the Office of the Wayne County Medical Examiner, my mind filled with memories of Mindy. It was almost the end of July, and she’d been missing for nearly two weeks. I did what I’d done a thousand times since the morning she hadn’t shown up for work—I remembered.
My mind flashed back to our freshman year of college nearly ten years before. She’d been sitting across the aisle from me in a journalism seminar. As I thought back, I believed that one reason I’d noticed her was that we looked alike: blonde hair and similar build. I remembered her chewing on the cap of her pen, reading our assignment, and I’d thought I had her beat. I’d already read it. That was still my approach to everything, always sizing up my competition.
Little had I known, Mindy had already read our assignment. She was rereading, because that was who she was. It turned out we were made to be best friends. Fate paired us for our first group project and sheer determination kept us together. During the next five years we were roommates, classmates in college and a master’s program, friends, enemies, and everything in between. Though we’d do anything for each other—and had, many times—it was our competitive spirit that continually pushed us through the long hours of classes and studying, and on to our internships. Together we celebrated success and mourned loss. No matter what life threw at us—asshole professors, scumbag boyfriends, dreaded hangovers—we knew that the one constant was each other. Of course, that closeness never stopped our siblinglike rivalry, the one that drove us to be the best. We vied for the top GPA, and through it all, neither one of us backed down.
After graduate school we went our separate ways to follow our dreams. It wasn’t until Mindy landed her job at the WCJB TV station that we found our way back together. At the time I was working for a big law firm in downtown Detroit as an investigator. I’d had an internship in a crime lab as an undergraduate student and one with Homeland Security during graduate school. Those experiences had taught me how to delve into people’s personal business and spot inconsistencies. At our firm a client’s innocence or lack thereof was never at issue—finding the evidence to substantiate their innocence was my job. In only a short time, I became one of the people on whom the partners depended to find answers.
Then, when Mindy introduced me to the people at WCJB, our friendship opened the door to my current position working for Bernard Cooper, the lead investigative journalist at WCJB. Not only did Bernard work for the top TV station in Detroit, but he also was well known in the industry. His stories were often picked up for national broadcasts. The mere mention of his name inspired fear and respect. Because of him politicians unexpectedly withdrew from elections and corporations faced millions of dollars in fines. Corruption on any level was his to expose. Whether it was a scandal involving mob bosses, gangs, or the dangers of contaminated lemons at a local restaurant chain, no story was above or beneath him. Stories were everywhere—we just had to find them.
Since Mindy’s parents lived in California, they’d authorized me to make visual confirmation should her body be found. Of course, they’d come here after her disappearance, but there was no sense summoning them each time a body matching Mindy’s description surfaced.
My reminiscing ended as I entered the county government building and took a deep breath. I’d been here only a week before, asked to identify a bloated body that, thankfully, hadn’t turned out to be Mindy. However, memories of the stench-filled examination room and the unnatural color of the body’s stretched skin brought back a rush of nausea. Swallowing the rising bile, I steadied my steps and willed my investigative mask of indifference in place.
As I descended through the winding catacombs on my way to the ME’s office, my mind spun with possibilities. While the number of homicides in Detroit had decreased since the early 1990s, so had the population. Detroit still had the dubious distinction of one of the highest violent crime rates in the nation. The city where I lived and my best friend had disappeared was dangerous, and I was about to witness another of its casualties. I’d encountered death in the course of my job—often. But that was different. That was work. This was personal.
As I rounded the final corner, I stopped and my eyes locked on the compassionate but piercing stare of Dylan Richards.