“A lot. But it almost never happens on the overnight shift. I work in peace. I eat lunch at three A.M. and I interact only with a few like-minded souls who populate this place while the rest of the world sleeps. It’s a good life.”
“And it will be good again in just a few minutes.” Kendra cocked her head toward the two FBI agents. “Do you know Special Agents Metcalf and Carson?”
Dr. Ross nodded toward them. “I know Metcalf. How do you do, Carson?”
“A pleasure,” Gina said.
Dr. Ross took a large bite of his sandwich. “So what brings you to my door at this ungodly hour?”
“The burnt female Jane Doe that came in today,” Kendra said. “Has she been autopsied yet?”
Dr. Ross sighed. “And the whip gets cracked again.”
“I’m hoping the answer is no,” Kendra said.
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a switch. And you’re in luck. We got a new kid who called dibs on it, but he won’t be in until nine A.M. What do you need?”
“Lipstick.”
Dr. Ross didn’t bat an eye. He’d obviously seen it all before. “I just might be able to help you with that.” He stood and grabbed his white lab coat from the chair back. “Follow me.”
They accompanied Dr. Ross downstairs to the morgue, and Kendra was struck by the creepy vibe the building gave off in the pre-dawn hours. They didn’t see a single person during their journey, and about two-thirds of the overhead fluorescent lights were turned off, casting shadows in long stretches of the corridors. The morgue itself, by contrast, was almost blindingly bright, with white-tiled floors and chrome fixtures reflecting the light in a harsh glare.
Dr. Ross consulted a clipboard and led them to a row of refrigerated drawers. He pulled one open and before Kendra could brace herself, she once again saw the burnt corpse.
Metcalf saw her wince. “Doesn’t get any easier to look at, does it?”
“No.”
“At least here it doesn’t smell like it did out on the street.”
“I’ll be damned,” Gina said. “Look at the left corner of her mouth.”
Kendra was already looking. As she’d remembered, it was the same peach lipstick as on the others.
Metcalf turned toward Dr. Ross. “I need to swab this. Can I have an evidence vial?”
“I’ll swab it,” Dr. Ross smiled. “I’m a professional.”
Dr. Ross used a sponge-tipped swab to scrape the lipstick from the relatively burn-free side of the corpse’s mouth. “FYI, it appears that the lipstick was applied post-mortem.”
“Are you sure?” Kendra asked.
“Almost positive. Cosmetics interact differently with a corpse’s epidermis than they do with a live person’s. The oils and oxygenation affect the way it absorbs—or doesn’t absorb—into the skin.”
Kendra watched silently as he deposited the dried lipstick sample into a glass vial. As he sealed it with a screw cap, Metcalf asked the question she’d been waiting to put forth. “There were two other corpses that came through here with that same lipstick. Wouldn’t the examiners have noticed that same thing on them?”
“Maybe, maybe not. The difference is less pronounced with lipstick than with other types of makeup. It’s a thicker base, usually more solid than other cosmetics.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Most people here aren’t as good as I am.”
“I believe that,” Kendra said.
Dr. Ross handed Metcalf the vial. “Anything else?”
“No,” Kendra said. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d close that drawer as quickly as you can.”
Dr. Ross hip-checked the drawer and it quickly slid shut. He shrugged. “Like I said, I’m a professional.”
*
IT WAS AFTER 4:30 A.M. by the time Kendra made it back to her condo. When she’d said good-bye to Metcalf and Gina in the FBI parking garage, they were already on their way up to the lab with the evidence vial. The agents felt confident that the lab could identify the lipstick in short order.
More information was better than less, of course, but Kendra found herself feeling more frustrated than ever. Even if they could ID the lipstick, what good could it do? It had most likely been purchased in one of the thousands of supermarkets or drugstores across the country.
There had to be something else, some other path to the monster who had murdered those people.
As she entered her building, she felt in her pocket for the USB flash drive Metcalf had given her. It contained the working files for all three murders. She’d upload them to her tablet and peruse them when she got the chance. Peruse, hell. She knew herself better than that. She’d study, memorize, and obsess over every detail.
But first she needed some sleep. She had morning appointments at her studio and she’d be worthless if she didn’t get at least a few— BUZZZZ-BUZZZZ-BUZZZZ.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She pulled it out and saw that a text had come through. She squinted at her screen and saw a message from someone she hadn’t heard from in a long time. Well, ten days wasn’t that long, but it had seemed long to her.
CAN’T KEEP YOU AWAY FROM A GOOD MURDER, CAN WE, KENDRA?
She couldn’t help but smile. It was Adam Lynch, agent-for-hire, who Olivia had tried to convince her was the challenge she needed. His main skill was infuriating her to no end. But sometimes he was just what she needed, especially on a day like this one.
She tapped out her reply: DEPENDS ON HOW WE DEFINE ‘GOOD’ MURDER. YOUR OWN?
He replied immediately. KEEP DREAMING, KENDRA. I’LL BE AROUND TO HARASS YOU FOR A LONG TIME.
He was probably right about that one, she thought. She typed. WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE YOU?
GUILIN, CHINA. ON ASSIGNMENT. IMPRESSED YET?
NOPE. SORRY. THOSE GOVT. PENCIL-PUSHERS WHO SIGN YOUR CHECKS DON’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO.
PROBABLY RIGHT ABOUT THAT. KEEP IT OUR SECRET. OKAY?
She didn’t know a tenth of Lynch’s secrets and probably never would. But those words gave her a warm feeling of intimacy.
She stepped into the elevator, knowing her phone had only a 50-50 chance of maintaining her data connection. She typed anyway: WILL KEEP YOUR SECRETS IF YOU KEEP MINE.
His reply came quickly. AFRAID YOU HAVE NO SECRETS TO KEEP. YOU’RE AN OPEN BOOK. A FASCINATING, PAGE-TURNING OPEN BOOK.
AND HERE I THOUGHT I WAS AN ALLURING WOMAN OF MYSTERY.
ALLURING, YES. MYSTERIOUS, NO. ONLY FEARFUL PEOPLE ARE MYSTERIOUS. THAT ISN’T YOU.
While she was still deciding how to respond, he added: HAVEN’T BEEN HOME SINCE THE NIGHT I SAW YOU LAST. WISH I WAS THERE NOW.
She was momentarily taken aback by his uncharacteristic sincerity. She instinctively tried to joke. THAT MAKES ONE OF US.
She paused. Wrong. Be honest. NOT REALLY.
He responded. ARE YOU OKAY, KENDRA?
Still sincere.
She typed: YOU’RE HALF A WORLD AWAY. HOW IN THE HELL DID YOU KNOW I WAS ON A CASE?
THE WORLD IS A SMALL PLACE. I REPEAT: ARE YOU OKAY?
She waited to answer until she finished the elevator ride and walked down the hallway to her condo. She let herself in and locked the door behind her.
She stared at the phone in her hand. Of course, Lynch knew she was on the case. He had tentacles everywhere, intelligence agency connections she could only dream about.
And he knew her. He knew how these cases affected her.