Chapter 5
It was a gruesome sight. Laid out on a gleaming metal slab in the autopsy room, Steve Davidson wasn’t recognizable. The exit wound on his face ensured a closed casket. The pale green fluorescent lighting wasn't helping his situation either.
The room had that sterile antiseptic smell, mixed with the traces of death.
Formaldehyde and bleach. The sloped epoxy floor had several drains.
Brenda kept the place spotless, despite all the carnage.
There were scales, sinks, and hoses. Scalpels and bone saws.
A portable X-ray machine. All kinds of chemicals.
Masks, boxes of gloves, and everything else you needed to keep the horror show rolling.
I felt a little weird about doing it, but I wrapped the dead man's hand around the case handle and pressed his thumb onto the biometric scanner pad.
I gritted my teeth when it didn't unlock. A wave of frustration pulsed through me.
I tried several times, to no avail.
"Are you sure that's his briefcase?" Brenda asked.
I shrugged. "I'm not sure of anything. This scanner probably has temperature and pulse detection.”
“We can try heating his hand up?”
I grinned. "I like the way you think.”
"Brenda grabbed a hairdryer, plugged it in, and used it to heat up the man's hand. Then I wrapped it around the handle again and pressed his thumb on the biometric pad.
It still didn't open.
I held my thumb on top of his, hoping my pulse might give the impression of life to the scanner.
No dice.
"What do you think is in the case?" Brenda asked.
"Something worth killing over.”
"I wonder if he would think so?"
I glanced at the portable X-ray device. "Let's take a look."
Brenda hurried across the room, grabbed the X-ray machine, and wheeled it over. I set the briefcase on an empty table, and she positioned the unit over it. With a C-arm that held a flat panel detector under the table, we’d have a view inside the suitcase in a matter of moments.
Brenda fired up the machine and zapped the briefcase. A moment later, a digital X-ray appeared on the screen.
We both frowned at the results.
It was just a massive white radiopaque area.
"The case must be shielded," she said. "Looks like Mr. Davidson took privacy and security seriously. I'm even more intrigued now."
"That makes two of us.”
"What are you going to do?”
"Find out what's inside," I said with an optimistic grin.
I thanked her for the assistance, then left and made my way back to the parking lot. I climbed into the squad car, tossed the briefcase onto the seat again, and fired up the engine.
The Florida sun baked the asphalt.
I wasn't exactly sure what to do next. Technically, I was supposed to log the briefcase in as evidence.
But I knew we had a problem with operational security.
It wouldn't be the first time something had gone missing from our property department.
Until I found out what was inside this case, I wasn't keen on letting it out of my sight.
I put the car into gear and drove to Paisley's apartment. She lived in the Del Mar. It wasn't a bad place. The six-story midrise was popular with young twentysomethings and had a reputation for a party vibe. There was under-building parking, a large pool, and always a party on the weekends.
I parked in the visitor lot, gave a look around, and grabbed the case.
The area looked clear, but there were plenty of cars in the parking lot, and plenty of places to hide. I didn't see the black SUV or the silver sedan that had followed us earlier.
I hustled to the main entrance, punched in her building code, then strolled through the lobby and took the elevator up to #304. The hallway was clear, and I hurried to her apartment.
I slipped her key into the slot, twisted the handle, and pushed open the door. I drew my pistol for good measure before stepping into the foyer.
The barrel led the way as I crept down the foyer, across the hardwoods, past the kitchen to my left. The apartment opened into a spacious living room with a balcony.
It was a one-bedroom, and the door was closed.
I moved to it, held up for a moment, then twisted the handle. I flung open the door and swept my pistol across the room.
The bedroom was tidy, and the bed made.
I was starting to feel a little paranoid, but after the day's events, I figured somebody might come here looking for Paisley and the briefcase. Maybe they had already been here. Maybe they were here now.