I move the remains onto a gurney and wheel it into the walk-in cooler. Then I strip off my gloves and apron and toss them in the bin before sitting down at the small desk.
The first thing I do is pull up the toxicology report for Dennis Heath and compare it to the percentages from Casey’s batch. The ratio is identical; meaning at the very least the cocaine came from the same batch.
Next, I click on the photos we take at every autopsy. Both the ones from a few months ago, and the ones taken of this case. Dennis Heath was missing the second toe on his left foot, identical to the remains we recovered tonight. Now if I could match both the leg and the arm to Dennis Heath as well, I’d feel more comfortable reporting that the remains we found were his.
There are no particular markings, no moles, scars, or tattoos visible in the pictures, so I pull up the X-rays.
There, an old fracture site on the tibia, just below the knee joint. It’s identical to the second set of X-rays from Heath’s file.
Now I can confirm our victim is in fact Dennis Heath in a variety of scientific ways. That’s the kind of evidence I like to present—airtight.
It’s the middle of the night and too late to call, but I’m eager to list my findings in an email to Blackfoot. I should probably copy it to Jay as well.
I’ve just logged in to my email when I hear something. The light hiss of air when the outside door leading to the morgue closes. Maybe Paul came back?
I get up and move to the door, pulling it open to look down the dark hallway.
“Paul? Is that you?”
Nothing. Weird.
Positive I heard it; I start walking toward the outside door to investigate.
I reach for the handle when no more than the slightest change in the air has me swing around.
Chapter 14
Jay
My mind is busy trying to process the details of the case and I’m almost halfway home when I realize I still have Meredith’s purse in my truck.
Fuck.
I glance at my dashboard clock. I figure she’ll be home by now. Her car is still at my place, but surely her assistant would’ve given her a ride. Do I really want to go knock on her door in the middle of the night and chance pissing her off even more when I wake her up?
I’ll go home, get a few hours in and pick her up at her place first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll bring coffee and an apology, and we’ll go pick up her car. Probably a better plan, since I’m beat and I really don’t want to run the risk of fucking up any more than I already have.
When I pull into my drive, I notice Meredith’s car parked out front with the lights still on in the house. It was only hours ago I was living a fantasy, fighting to hold back from stripping her naked in my kitchen. Jesus. Like I could sleep tonight with that image haunting me.
The gravel sprays up against my side panels when I slam my foot on the brake. For a second I sit frozen in indecision behind the wheel before jerking the truck in reverse.
There isn’t much traffic this hour of the night and it takes me half the usual time to pull up outside the A-frame. There aren’t any lights on but I can hear Beau going nuts inside. Even if I wanted to change my mind, the dog’s barking would’ve woken Meredith already.
Except, no one comes to the door. Not even when I knock and call her name. Beau hasn’t let up, though, and it sounds like he’s scratching at the door. I try the knob, but it’s locked I try the knob, but it’s locked and I didn’t find any keys in her purse. I assumed she pocketed them.
I walk around the side of the house to the sliding doors in the back and peek in the glass. The dog scares the living daylights out of me when he suddenly jumps up against the window inside.
An uneasy feeling has the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What if she’s inside but something happened to her?
I try the sliding door, which is also locked. I try to see if she has a bar wedged in the track to prevent it from sliding, but I can’t see anything. It may just be locked. I grab the handle, lift the door as much as I’m able to, and pull back on it as hard as I can.
With a snap, the latch springs free from the lock and the door slides open. Before I can put a foot inside, Beau shoves his way outside and bounds off the deck, immediately lifting his leg. The cat is curled up on the couch, her eyes blinking sleepily. Beau’s ruckus doesn’t appear to faze her.
“Meredith!”
I clear the main floor before heading up to the stairs to check the loft. She’s not here.
I close my eyes and drop my head back. Shit. She must still be at her office and she’s gonna kill me.
I’m guessing breaking into her house won’t win me brownie points.
Better get her dog inside before he takes off on me. That would be the icing on the cake.
I step outside and find a length of deck board I think may do the trick.
“Beau, come here boy!”
Luckily, he doesn’t keep me waiting and comes inside without a problem. I close the door and wedge the board in the track so the door can’t slide. A temporary fix until I can repair the lock I busted. I head out through the front, leaving a disgruntled Beau standing in the small hallway as I pull the door locked behind me.
There are no lights on inside and the small parking lot in front of the coroner’s office is empty. I drive through the alleyway at the side of the building around to the back. There’s a ramp going down leading to a loading bay in the basement, which is closed off from view by a rolling garage door. Beside it is a narrow stairway to a regular back entrance.
The garage door does not look to be shut all the way. There’s about a foot and a half gap between the ramp and the bottom of the door with a cinderblock wedged between.
Trouble.
I kill the engine, checking my sidearm with one hand while I flip open the glove compartment and grab the flashlight with the other. Carefully opening my door, I slide from behind the wheel and free my gun, holding it down beside my leg as I move as quietly as I can down the ramp. I go down on a knee and peek under the door, aiming my flashlight into the loading bay, which appears empty.
My heart is pounding in my throat and I have to keep myself from yelling Meredith’s name and barging in there. I rely on my training to move with caution instead. It’s a bit of a struggle to squeeze myself through the opening but the moment I’m clear, I’m back on my feet heading for the door that opens up to a hallway beyond.
I ease it open, wincing at the hiss of air caused by the morgue’s pressurized ventilation system. I peek left around the doorpost and see an empty hallway, light coming from the far end. I do a quick check of the dark hallway leading to the back entrance to my right before I step through the door.
I’m a big guy, but I can move stealthily, rolling on the ball of my foot every step I take. I pass by the heavy door to the walk-in cooler and focus down the hall on the autopsy room where the lights are on. I scan the room with my gun at the ready when I notice a small desk toppled on its side in one corner. A Nikon camera looks to be in pieces on the floor beside it.
Then I hear it; a light scraping sound which appears to be coming from behind the secondary door into the cooler on the far side of the autopsy room. I bring my gun up higher, careful where I put my feet as I make my way over.
There is no way to ease this door open, the moment I pull back on the heavy steel lever, whoever is in there will hear. Speed is of the essence now. I adjust my grip on the gun and take a firm hold on the lever, visualizing the layout of the room beyond.