Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Franklin
True to my fears, Bucky had done his job and found one more body.
It could have been worse. I suppose that sentiment was commonly true and just as commonly pulled out when things had already gone sideways.
It was one of those placating mantras we repeated to remind ourselves that somehow we’d muck our way through the shit currently weighing us down.
Most of us had done it before and come through the other side in desperate need of a hot shower along with an added vice or two.
“You didn’t think I had enough to deal with?
” Dr. Stowe asked when I arrived back at the precinct.
Not much had changed in the morgue, including the good ME’s presence.
I’d been gone long enough that she might have actually taken my advice and ducked out for a few hours.
Given how harried she still appeared, I sincerely doubted it.
I held up my hands, palms out. “Sorry, Doc.”
Dr. Stowe’s lips quirked into an attempt at a grin. “I suppose that’s something.” She directed the crime techs to a cleared-off table. I wasn’t sure how there was an open surface still available. “Skeletal remains?” she asked while opening the cadaver bag.
“Just like the others.” I stepped closer. “The crime scene techs are still out there doing their thing.” They’d be out there for days given what we’d found. I didn’t envy their job. CSIs had to be beyond meticulous, and all the minutia would drive me crazy.
Dr. Stowe tilted her head, cracking her neck and releasing a heavy sigh. “I’m going to need one hell of a vacation after this.”
“You and me both.”
The techs left, the door easing closed behind them. Dr. Stowe slumped down into a nearby chair, her shoulders hunched and head hung low. Elbow propped on the desk, Dr. Stowe fisted her hand, resting her chin. The woman looked beyond exhausted.
“Let me guess… You didn’t take my earlier advice,” I said.
“Not yet, but I’m fast reaching the breaking point. I’ll need some rest before I tackle our latest guest.”
I grabbed a nearby chair, rolling it closer to Dr. Stowe before joining her. My phone buzzed, the tone indicating I had a text from Boone. Quickly scrolling the message, my lips twisted in a deep frown.
“Something wrong?” Dr. Stowe thoughtfully asked.
“I hope not.” Boone was definitely handling me. “Boone’s getting ready to head out on a job.” Used to be, that wouldn’t have been a problem. I could tell from Dr. Stowe’s scrunched eyes and twisted lips that she wasn’t sure why it was an issue now.
Pocketing my phone, I played down my reaction. “It’s late, and I’m not certain how much sleep Boone got last night. I just don’t like the idea of him out on the road if he’s tired. This job is at least two hours away.”
“That’s understandable.” Dr. Stowe sagely nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Past experience told a different story where my fiancé was concerned. I mollified myself by the knowledge that Agent Frost and Leon were with him.
As difficult as it was, I refrained from immediately calling Boone. He hadn’t gone alone, and I needed to focus on what I could control, not what I couldn’t. “Do you want to go through the other remains before you take off? We can do it tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I’ll give you the rundown before I leave. It shouldn’t take long.” Dr. Stowe reached for a nearby stack of folders, digging through them and pulling two out. “But if you don’t mind, let’s do it from our seated positions.”
“Sounds good to me. What have you got?”
Dr. Stowe let loose another sigh while tilting her hand back and forth.
“A little of this and a little of that.” She gave a wan smile.
“Unlike our female victims, I suspicion our males were all murdered in different ways.” Dr. Stowe winced.
“None of them peaceful. John Doe number four’s entire cervical area is crushed.
I’m not just talking about a few broken bones.
When I say crushed, I truly mean that. There’s not a lot of intact bone left in the area.
Given the state of the bones, I’m surprised we managed to get as many fragments as we did.
My guess is that the crime scene techs will find more bits when they finish sifting through his gravesite. ”
I jotted down a few notes as Dr. Stowe rattled off ethnicity, approximate age, and a few other tidbits regarding John Doe number four’s skeletal history.
Setting the file aside, Dr. Stowe grabbed John Doe number five. “Given the nicks on multiple bones, I’d say John Doe number five bled out from multiple laceration sites. I doubt his death was quick.”
My mind turned that information over. “That means he would have been restrained or possibly sedated.”
“That would be my guess, although I don’t know if there were any superficial defensive wounds. I can tell you that his hands and forearms are unmarred, which makes me believe you are correct.”
“Christ.” I ran a hand through my hair. Its short length made a brisling sound, much like my five-o’clock shadow. “What in the hell are we dealing with here? These men weren’t small.”
“Or weak. None of our John Does thus far are geriatric or show signs of chronic illness. This one”—Dr. Stowe tapped John Doe number five’s folder against the stainless-steel table—“probably had the largest handicap.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“Left leg is a little shorter than the right. Looks like a fracture that never healed correctly. My guess is it happened when he was younger and…O’Hare? You okay? What—”
My heart pounded, the sound of my rushing blood heavy in my ears. “Say that again.”
Dr. Stowe’s mouth snapped shut before she repeated what she’d just said. I hadn’t heard wrong. What were the chances…?
“Approximate age?”
Dr. Stowe glanced down at her notes. “Mid-twenties to maybe thirty.” She continued with John Doe number five’s stats before I could ask. “Caucasian, five-eleven to maybe six feet, bone structure indicates decent medical care minus the poorly healed fracture site. What’s going on, O’Hare?”
I stood fast enough that my chair hit the desk with an audible clang.
“I’m not sure.” I swallowed hard. My stomach felt like I’d swallowed lead.
“I need to check on something, but I may have an ID for number five.” And if I was right, then these cases were related.
I just didn’t know how in the hell that was possible or, possibly more important, why.
“Get some rest, Doc.” I think Dr. Stowe’s mouth was still parted and hanging open when I walked out the door. All earlier exhaustion dissipated as my mind wandered down seemingly impossible roads.
I thought back to what I knew about the other men our female victims had accused. Only four out of the six gave us a name, but that was enough to test my burgeoning theory.
Impatient, I skipped the elevator and headed for the stairs.
I hoped Becks was still in. I slammed through the double doors, drawing confused and worried looks from the remaining officers.
My eyes zeroed in on Becks’s desk. The woman I needed wasn’t there, but her purse and laptop were. Becks wouldn’t leave without either.
I started to ask someone if they knew where Becks was when she turned the corner, popping into sight. The welcoming grin Becks immediately sent my way faded fast when she got a good look at my manic expression.
“O’Hare? What is it? Did something happen to Boone? Is he—”
“Boone’s fine.” I hoped. “I need you to look something up for me.” I could have done it, but it would have taken me five times as long. Besides, Becks had already started looking into the names the victims gave. She might already have the answer I was searching for.
Without waiting for an answer, I pulled up a nearby chair and crowded Becks’s space. She didn’t seem to mind. “What do you need?”
I flipped through my notes, finding what I required. “I need to know if one of the men the women accused of their murder had previously fractured fingers.” It was the only thing I could think that might be easily found.
Becks’s fingers hovered over her computer keys before she abandoned her position and reached into her laptop bag. Instead of a computer, she pulled out a thick folder. “That’s an oddly specific question.”
“Too specific?”
“Not for me.” Becks gave me a crooked grin. “But it is a little unsettling. I’m not sure what prompted you to ask, and I’ve got a feeling I’m not going to like the answer.”
“You’re probably not wrong.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Flipping through her folder, Becks found what she wanted and pulled out a couple of sheets. “Here.” She pointed at what appeared to be medical notes. “I came across this when I was looking into Edwin Clark.”
“Gladys’s son?” She was our older victim. Still blond or maybe grayer by the time she was murdered. She was also the soul that Boone said was more sad than angry regarding her death.
“That’s the one,” Becks confirmed. “It came up because Edwin was young at the time, and there was some question regarding how the fracture happened. Child Protective Services were called in, so it was documented and in the database.”
“Anything come of their investigation?”
Becks shook her head. “No. It was determined to be accidental. There were witnesses that backed up Gladys’s claim that Edwin fractured his fingers when he fell out of a tree. Do you want to know the interesting part?”
“I’m all ears.”
Becks grinned. “It was Edwin that accused his mother of fracturing his fingers.”
I sat back while digesting that bit of information. “Was the witness unreliable?” Could be that Edwin was telling the truth, and Gladys got someone to cover for her.
“Not even close. Turns out, there were two separate witnesses. One was a neighbor, and the other was someone random walking down the street. Child Protective Services claimed there was no prior history between the witness on the street and Gladys. In other words, they didn’t know each other, and the witness would have no conceivable reason to lie. ”
“But Edwin did?”
Becks shrugged. “I can’t comment on that. There’s nothing in the file indicating why they thought Edwin claimed his mother fractured his fingers.”
I didn’t know what to say. If it became more pertinent, I’d need to consult with a child psychologist to get more insight. “Which fingers exactly?”
Becks rattled off what the report said. It was more medical than I could follow, but I understood enough to gather it was the same two fingers Dr. Stowe told me about. My earlier exhaustion returned with the weight of a thousand suns. I stared down at my clasped hands as my mind spun.
“O’Hare?” Becks’s dark fingers against my pale skin pulled me from my circling thoughts. “What’s going on? What do you know?”
My barked laughter rode that razor thin line of insanity. “Know? Not much. Suspicion? That’s a different kettle of fish.”
“Okay, then what do you suspect?”
“Something that sounds far-fetched.”
“You and I both know that far-fetched doesn’t mean impossible, so spill.”
Rubbing my tired eyes only made them burn more. “I think that what we’re going to find is that the male remains cooling their skeletal heels in the morgue are the men our female victims accused of murdering them.”
Becks jerked back, her lips falling open. A little squeak of sound managed to escape before she slammed her mouth closed again. “That’s…odd.”
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Becks didn’t question my reasoning. She simply eased back into her seat, her eyes distant as her fingers tapped along her desk. “Vigilante?”
Mimicking Becks’s posture, I considered the thought. “Could be. But how do the women relate? How would our vigilante know all six of them given their lack of connection and even greater distance across the country? And why bring them into our neck of the woods to bury?”
“I doubt a human would,” Becks answered.
My blood ran cold. “Probably not.” But that begged the question, what species could?
“Witch?” Becks threw out.
“Possibly. We can ask the captain to see if that’s possible.”
Becks nodded and then shivered. “Oracle? Honestly, I’ve never heard of a sane one, but from what I understand, they’d conceivably be able to tell.”
I cocked my head as I contemplated the idea. “I find it odd that they’d have enough clarity to kill the victim’s murderer but not stop the original murder before it happened.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. My understanding is that oracles see different possible futures. Could be they didn’t know it would happen, and when they found out, they sought vengeance.”
It was a stretch but worth considering. What also bore considering was the manner the women were killed.
I thought of something else. “All the female victims appear to have been murdered in the same manner. I find it awfully hard to believe six different men from six different areas of the country independently murdered six different women by the same means.” I blew out a deep breath. “I need to speak with Captain Cicely.”
Becks checked her watch. “You do, but not tonight. She’s at a coven meeting. She probably wouldn’t mind if you interrupted her, but—”
“But it will keep until tomorrow.”
Becks grimaced. “As callous as that sounds, it will.”
I stood, my legs only slightly shaky. Leaning forward, I placed a grateful hand on Becks’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. I owe you.”
She waved me off. “You don’t owe me shit, O’Hare.”
I glanced at Becks’s waiting purse and her stowed laptop. “You were on your way out.”
“It’s fine,” she reassured me. “It’s what we do.”
I inhaled, drawing that cleansing breath deep into my lungs before echoing, “It’s what we do.”