Chapter 5
Dover stood staring down at the ground. She knew the basic facts of what she was looking at. Or at least as much as the medical examiner would share with her. Male. Caucasian. Approximate age between thirty-five and forty-five. Estimated time of death was between ten and midnight.
What the basic facts didn’t tell her was how he died or why he was discovered dead on the field hockey pitch of an exclusive private high school. She looked at the impressive fence surrounding the school. How would he even get here, or how would someone place him here?
“Are you done, Detective?” the medical examiner asked from the other side of the body.
“No identification at all?”
“None that we found. I doubt the kids who found him rolled him either.” Her gaze shot up to meet his smirk.
Sean Ryan, one of the medical examiners for the City of Boston, stood with his arms folded over his muscled chest. His arms almost split the sleeves of his shirt.
Better looking than any medical examiner had the right to be.
“Autopsy?” she asked, ignoring the deep brown eyes studying her.
“Let’s say one this afternoon. I know you’ll be on my ass if I don’t rush it.”
As much as she wanted to comment on other things she could do with his ass, she resisted. This was a crime scene, and she was a professional.
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ll save you a seat then.” With a wink, he turned his attention back to the body. His assistants moved in to ease the body into a bag for transportation to his office.
She stepped out of the makeshift tent to organize the search of the grounds. As much as she was certain no one at the school had anything to do with it, she had to follow procedure.
“Do you want me to handle the school while you find out who he was?” Danny asked.
Danny had been her partner from the first day she reported as a detective.
He was fifteen years older than her and kept joking about moving to cold cases.
The idea of doing this without Danny’s experience to fall back on made her shiver with apprehension.
“Sounds good. I need to deal with something for a couple of minutes anyway. I’ll start looking for missing persons and meet you at the autopsy at one.
” With a nod, Danny walked toward the door to the school while she looked over at the thing that needed to be dealt with.
Standing at the fence with the rest of the curious was a giant man with bright green eyes and a ponytail.
“What are you doing here?” she growled when she reached the fence.
“Looking for you,” he growled back. She nodded for him to follow her down the fence line until they were away from the onlookers.
“How did you find me?”
“Memphis.”
“How?” She held her hand up when he started to answer. “You know what, never mind. Why are you looking for me?”
“Come on, Dover. I flew all the way up here to meet you. Surely you can spare a little more than one quick breakfast. Memphis and I went to Fox’s apartment last night.
His girlfriend was out with friends. I don’t get a good feeling about her.
I want to make sure y’all are all right before I go home.
I have an open-ended plane ticket. I can always change it. ”
“Fine,” she said after considering him for several beats. “But I don’t have time right now. Come by later tonight.” She pulled her notebook out of her pocket and wrote her address down. Tearing the page out, she passed it to him. “I’ve got to go. I have a dead guy to identify.”
“See you this evening.”
“Yay,” she mumbled, walking quickly toward her car. Reaching for the door, she remembered she had ridden with Danny, and he still had the keys in his pocket. “Hey,” she yelled at Knox’s back.
“What?” he yelled back.
“Give me a ride back to the office?”
“Yeah, come on. Little sisters are such a pain in the ass.”
“Fuck you. I’ll take the bus.”
“Get in,” he said with a grin. He pointed a fob at a small car halfway down the street. With a sigh, she met him by the passenger door. “Are you always so uptight?” he asked when they were both inside. How he found room to drive, she had no idea.
“Only around men who show up claiming to be my long-lost family.”
“Fair.” He pulled out into traffic. “At least I haven’t asked for money yet.”
“Don’t bother. No one gets rich on a cop’s salary.”
“Nor a math teacher’s salary,” he answered with a hearty laugh. “We’ll just have to be satisfied being the poor relations.” They drove for a block in silence. “Speaking of, what is up with that medical examiner? The women on my side of the fence were starting to swoon.”
“How is that speaking of? Speaking of what?”
“Speaking of relations. Relationships. Get it?”
“Not really.”
“I’m just saying I’m glad my wife isn’t here. I don’t think I can compete with that.”
“Definitely not.”
“Hey,” he growled. When he gave her a gentle shove, she had to force down her laugh.
“Don’t make me kick your ass…again.”
“Next time, I’m setting you on fire. Consider yourself warned.” This time she couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up. How was it possible this man was slowly growing on her?
“This is me,” she said. Knox pulled up to the curb so she could get out. “About seven. Bring food.” She slammed the car door closed before he could answer and walked into the police station.
Getting through security always took longer than she thought it should. But then, better safe than sorry she guessed. Her first stop was the coffee station in the break room.
Contrary to popular belief, the coffee was pretty decent. It was also free, which made any coffee better. Dumping powdered cream and sugar in it, she carried it to her office.
A wiggle of the mouse brought her computer to life. There were plenty of emails in her inbox, but nothing about the fingerprints she’d sent over.
She pulled up the NCIC (National Crime Information Center) database and input all of the information on the victim. At least everything she had right now: height, weight, approximate age, hair color, race, sex. Anything else about the man would have to wait for Sean to share with her.
While she waited for the autopsy, she pulled a new notebook down. It would be the start of everything they knew about the death.
Her initial notes were the first thing added to the book.
She also printed off the crime scene photos the moment they hit her inbox.
Each one was added to the book. She even drew a crude diagram of the area surrounding the body.
No one would accuse her of being an artist, but it wasn’t half bad.
She slid it into one of the page protectors.
The phone on her desk rang, and she snatched it up. “Homicide, Addams.”
“Can you come to the morgue right now, Detective?” Sean asked.
“I thought you said one?”
“There’s something you need to see.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty.” She hung up.
Taking a minute to text the change of plans to Danny, she chugged her coffee.
She tossed the cup and picked up her keys.
With any luck, the traffic would be light this time of day.
The medical examiner’s office sat in the middle of the Boston University Medical Campus.
There was always road construction or congestion, no matter what time of day.
The drive took her twenty-five minutes to go the thirteen miles. Finding parking took another ten. Sean was waiting in his office when she finally arrived. Per normal, he looked cool and perfectly coiffed to her hot and sweaty. He stood when she knocked on the doorframe.
“You said you had something to show me?” she asked.
“Follow me.” He led her through the offices to the basement where examinations were performed.
She nodded to several of the other doctors she knew as they approached a table with various things neatly bagged and labeled.
Sean stopped and picked up one of the bags.
“Take a look at this,” he said, handing it to her.
She flipped the small, clear bag over in her hand. Inside was a medallion strung on a black piece of leather cord. The medallion itself was silver without much wear. She guessed, like the first one, this medal could be found anywhere. They’d still search for where it was bought anyway.
“It’s like the one our last guy had only different,” she noticed.
“I’d guess it’s also a religious medal, but which saint I have no idea,” Sean answered. “I thought I’d leave that to you guys.”
“They have to mean something, I just don’t know what.”
“Here’s the weird thing. About a month ago, Detective Bianchi had a body in here that had a similar medallion to your two. Might be a coincidence, but then…” He shrugged.
“Yeah, thanks.” Her mind reeled with questions. She needed to find Bianchi. What were the chances of three deceased bodies being found with nothing but a religious medallion in a month? “Any idea where he was found?”
“Don’t remember. I do remember, though, that it was a homicide. His tongue was removed.” She looked up at him sharply. “I’ll know more after the autopsy this afternoon,” he said, holding his hands up before she could argue that he start it now.
“Okay, I’ll go find Bianchi.” She turned to leave, and Sean snatched the bag from her hand.
“This still goes to trace,” he said.
“I’ll be back at one.”
“Looking forward to it.” She let the door swish closed behind her as she walked back out into the hallway.
If she hurried, she would have time to catch the other detective, catch up with Danny, and grab a sandwich before she had to be back.
She shook her head to clear her mind. The dead had no auras surrounding them anymore. All she saw was gray space.
Sean, however, glowed with the most beautiful blue-green light.
It reminded her of the aurora borealis she saw pictures of in books.
It made her want to pack her bag and fly to Norway every time.
She could just imagine gazing up at him from her bed, the glow surrounding them.
She shook her head again. Back to the murder.
“Bianchi!” she said, walking into the detective’s office twenty minutes later.
“How you doing, girly?” he responded. Dominic Bianchi had to be pushing sixty if he was a day.
Word around the office was that he could have risen all the way to the top, except he liked what he did.
His father and grandfather had been detectives in the Boston PD It was in his blood. “What can I do for you?”
“Sean Ryan at the ME’s office was telling me you caught a murder with some similarities to one I pulled today. Had a medallion around his neck? A religious one?”
“A St. Matthew medal,” he answered. “You should go to church more. Learn your saints.”
“My parents were Protestants, so it wouldn’t do any good. What can you tell me about your victim?”
“Let’s see.” He pulled a folder off a stack on his desk and flipped it open. “Name was George Goodwin from Buffalo, New York. In town on business. Worked for a bank. Mid-thirties, fit, middle class, white.”
“No leads on the suspect?”
“Not yet. Still looking, but I’m not feeling confident we’ll find who did it.”
“Can I get a copy of what you have?”
“Yeah, I’ll send it over to you.”
“Perfect, thanks, Bianchi.”
“No problem. Let me know if you find anything I missed.”
“I doubt that,” she said, leaving his office. She found Danny sitting at his desk in their office down the hall. “You’re back early.”
“Nobody saw anything. The custodian managed to get the scene locked down before most of the kids got there. He and the principal checked that the guy was dead, locked down the field, and called us. No one recognized him from his photo,” he answered. “I was just typing up my notes.”
“I might have something.”
Danny stopped typing and turned to face her.
They shared an office large enough for both desks, a filing cabinet, and a large whiteboard.
It wasn’t spacious, but it worked. “ME’s office called.
They found a St. Francis medal hanging around his neck.
It’s like our first guy, only his was a St. Bernadette.
It also seems Bianchi had a case that was similar about a month ago.
He’s sending it over.” She sat at her desk and checked her email.
“Christ. I thought two were bad, but now you’re saying there are at least three? You think there might be even more?” he asked.
“Don’t know yet. Seems worth a look though.” She printed a picture of the medal from the other crime scene and taped it to the whiteboard.
“Their vic have a name?”
“Yeah.” She leaned back over her desk and printed out a photo. Taping it to the board, she wrote the name “George Goodwin.” “It might be nothing, but I thought I’d check.”
Returning to her desk, she downloaded the preliminary medical examiner’s report. She printed a picture of their victim and added it to the board. Under it, she wrote “John Doe.” At least they had been able to identify the first victim, Trent Alleman.
“We need to find out who this guy is,” Danny said. He returned to typing his notes but paused. “By the way, how did you score an autopsy this fast? It usually takes a day or two of waiting.”
“I guess Sean thought it was a high priority.”
“Uh-huh.” He smirked before turning back to his computer. She ignored the implication and the fact that her face grew hot. Instead, she started pouring over missing person reports. Someone had to be missing him.