Like someone was in a hurry.
***
“…expected landing time five minutes. Thank you for flying with us today, and welcome to Northwest Arkansas, y’all.”
Gwen jerked awake at the sound of the stewardess’s sugary-sweet voice coming through the speaker. She blinked, sat up and checked her watch, which had automatically adjusted to the two-hour time change—9:03 a.m. She stretched her neck and looked around.
First class wasn’t bad at all. Not bad at all.
Of all the times she’d traveled, she’d never sprung for first class. Blame it on her humble upbringing. After this morning, she’d have to rethink that. Usually unable to sleep on planes, Gwen had fallen fast asleep within fifteen minutes of takeoff and slept like a rock.
She lifted the shade and looked out the rain-streaked window.
Rain?
When did that start?
She peered down at the colorful mountains below—muted colors of orange, red and yellow, like splattered paint against soaring peaks. Even with the dim overcast, it was beautiful. It reminded her of home, and a warm feeling swept over her.
She felt surprisingly alert and refreshed. Ready to take on the day, which was a nice change from how she’d felt the last few days.
After she’d hung up with the cocky Wesley Cross the evening before, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. After grabbing another beer, she ignored her unanswered emails and voicemails and settled in to research Berry Springs. The small, country town was only an eight-hour drive from her home in Texas, which meant she could escape at any time and head home if she needed to, without having to wait on a flight. And that was what sealed the deal.
Well, that and triple her fee. Triple!
After another beer, she’d decided she was going to inflate her fee. Payback for Mr. Cross’s relentless pestering. And after her fourth beer, she’d decided she was going to take a three-day vacation to Hawaii after the little adventure. And with that exciting thought, she’d fallen asleep with visions of muscled-up beach boys and Mai Tai’s in her head.
As the plane descended, she found herself wondering what Wesley looked like, as she had done a hundred times since they’d hung up. His voice was deep, smooth, and that southern drawl was pretty damn sexy, she had to admit. But it was his confidence that intrigued her the most. In their short three-minute conversation, Gwen knew Wesley was the type of guy that didn’t take no for an answer, and she got the vibe he didn’t hear it much in the first place.
The plane skidded to a stop on a bumpy runway surrounded by cow pastures. A surprisingly short twenty-minutes later she was through the teeny-tiny airport and in her rental car. Full size, just as he promised. A nice, roomy Tahoe. Not bad at all.
Despite the thick cloud cover, it was a mild sixty-three degrees. Typical fall weather for the area. She plugged in the address Wesley had texted her early this morning. No sorry for hounding you last night, or, have you made a decision, or, sorry to text so early, just the address and the words Ask for Jessica. He just assumed she’d accepted his offer and because of that, she didn’t bother to respond. She just packed up and headed to the airport.
Make him sweat a bit.
As she exited the airport, the dark clouds above opened up, and a deluge rained down on her. She sighed and prayed this wasn’t a sign of things to come. After turning the windshield wipers on high, Gwen began her journey through the narrow, mountain roads. As she drove deeper into the valleys, she was awestruck at the nature that surrounded her. Jagged cliffs hugged one side of the road, steep ravines, the other. In a few spots, she had to slow down due to the water rushing over the road. Beautiful, yes, but not an easy drive, especially on roads that she wasn’t familiar with.
She fumbled with the radio and landed on a national news channel.
“… rains pounding the South. Heavy thunderstorms and flash flooding is going to be a major concern over the next few days. Now onto the biggest story of the day. After two long months, the serial killer haunting the Northwest, known as the Caregiver Killer…”
Her eyes widened, her back straightened like a rod.
“… has finally been caught thanks to forensic evidence found at the scene yesterday afternoon linking the latest victim to a local sewage plant, where the suspect was employed. Authorities found the body of another elderly woman hidden in a bunker at the plant. The suspect’s name is not being released at this time. Our own Drew Simmons is live at the scene…”
Her mouth dropped open. They finally found him. The Caregiver Killer had been caught… thanks to her. Goosebumps ran over her arms and tears stung her eyes. The families of the victims could finally begin the process of healing. No more wondering, no more fear. No more living with the unknown.
She took a deep breath, momentarily overcome with emotions. This is why she did what she did. This made every sleepless night she had buried in work, every lonely night without a man, and all the endless hours spent in airports totally and completely worth it.
She fought the urge to call Agent Stein, knowing he was busier than ever with the latest development. So feeling a bit lighter, she turned on some classic rock and focused on the wet road ahead until she passed the sign that read Welcome to Berry Springs. Her attention shifted to two young teenagers on horseback galloping along the side of the road—in the pouring rain. Both wore cowboy hats—with water pouring off the sides—shiny belt buckles and smiles the size of Texas. She smirked, knowing they were having the time of their lives. She drove past a discount grocery store, snickering at the people darting to their cars with paper sacks over their heads. Then, there was the county sale barn. Apparently, it was sale day. She’d never seen so many pickup trucks, trailers, and apprehensive cows in one place. She passed a few signs for hiking trails and horseback riding adventures and for a second, actually considered checking it out. During her research, she’d learned that Berry Springs was a big tourist location, attracting people from all over the country for hiking, camping and boating on Otter Lake. Before she could blink, she was passing through town square which appeared to be the hub of the small town. The storefronts were thoughtfully decorated with fall décor, mainly hay bales and pots of colorful mums. She spotted a few Happy Fall, Y’all signs. American flags hung from the antique light posts that lined the two-lane road. Despite the weather, the square buzzed with activity, with people going in and out of Fanny’s Farm and Feed and Tad’s Tool shop. The busiest spot was a restaurant named Donny’s Diner.
Her mouth watered as she drove by. Something about the blue-checked curtains and bright red booths in the windows made her want to pull in for a warm piece of apple pie and coffee.
But she had an appointment to get to.
She clicked on her phone. According to Google Maps, she was one minute away from her destination. She slid under a yellow light, clicked on her turn signal and parked underneath a soaring oak tree next to a metal sign that read County Coroner.
The morgue.
It looked like a small medical clinic, but healing sick people was not the purpose of this building.
She wrinkled her nose and took a deep breath. She’d seen countless dead bodies, but usually at crime scenes where she was able to put the gore aside and focus on the job at hand. The morgue was different. Something about multiple dead bodies just hanging out in freezers gave her the willies. The bodies would eventually be buried, burned, or get sliced into and examined in a hundred different ways. Organs laid on tables, next to tools that looked to be straight out of a torture chamber. It made her sick to her stomach. Crime scenes were organic, at least. Horrific or not, they were organic. Bodies getting sliced open on silver tables was not.
The pounding rain sounded like a million bugs buzzing in the air, and she kicked herself for not packing an umbrella. She looked around the vacant parking lot and took note of a white van parked inconspicuously across the street, with the running lights on. A media van?
Humph.
A media van outside the
morgue meant at least one body inside was high profile and for the first time since last night, she wondered what the hell she was doing. Why had she accepted the damn job? A job she knew nothing about—not a single damn thing. She hated not being prepared and felt like a fish out of water.
She closed her eyes and momentarily disappeared to Hawaii, courtesy of triple her fee.
Yes, a little sun, sandy beach, crystal-blue waves washing against her freshly done pedicure.
Ahhhhhh.
With that uplifting thought, she pulled down the visor and flicked up the mirror. Unlike most jobs, wearing suits and heels wasn’t a requirement for analyzing bugs—they didn’t care what she looked like. But because she was going into this particular job blind, she’d decided to slap on some makeup—courtesy of the free samples she’d gotten with an eye-boggling expensive anti-aging serum she’d recently purchased. So far, the serum hadn’t done a thing on its long list of promises, but the makeup stayed true to its long-lasting guarantee.
Good job, samples, she thought and made a mental note to stick with the brand.
Her hair was another story. Thanks to the one-hundred percent humidity, her long brown hair had curled at the ends and frizzed at the top. She ran her fingers through it, which only puffed it out more, so she tied it back into a ponytail. She smoothed her white sweater, which she’d paired with dark skinny jeans and boots.
Gwen, are you nervous?
With a quick inhale, she grabbed her purse and briefcase and darted up the sidewalk, jumping under the measly three-inch overhang just above the door. Rain ran like a waterfall over the gutters. She pressed her body up against the door and tried the handle—locked.
The rain splattered against her boots as she knocked—nothing.
Dammit!
She banged her fist against the door.
“No solicitations.” A gruff, female voice crackled through a speaker just below the ancient-looking doorbell that she hadn’t even noticed.
She leaned into the speaker and pressed the silver button where the paint had worn off from so many fingers touching it—apparently trying to get past the guard dog inside. “My name is Gwyneth Reece. I was told you’d be expecting me,” she said quickly, with a hint of impatience.
Silence.
Finally, a click, and the door swung open. “Ah, it’s raining.” Dressed in a white lab coat, a short, stocky redhead stepped back, motioning her inside. Gwen noticed the bevy of tattoos on her wrist as she held the door open.
Gwen wiped her boots on the Go Away mat as the guard dog sent a screw-you scowl toward the white van before closing the door. Intimidating by all counts, especially for her small frame.
“Sorry, I thought—
“I was a solicitor. Yeah, I heard,” Gwen said.
The green-eyed redhead smirked, then said, “Believe it or not, we get ‘em. Most people avoid morgues like the plague, but not solicitors… or journalists for that matter.” The disdain for the profession evident in her voice. “Especially when there’s a dead body found in town. They’re like goddamned gnats you can’t get rid of. No offense.”
Gwen laughed and decided she liked whoever this southern firecracker was. “None taken.”
“I’m Jessica Heathrow.” She smiled. “The medical examiner.”
They shook hands and Gwen couldn’t help but notice how young she looked. Younger than any other medical examiner she’d met.
“Gwyneth Reece.” She took a quick glance around the small, front office, noticing the overhead lights were off. A clock on the wall ticked loudly against the silence.
“Nice to meet you,” Jessica said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Even watched one of the presentations you gave at Stanford, I believe.”
“Ah, I hope it was a nice nap.”
Jessica laughed boisterously.
“So listen, I have no idea why I’m here.”
“Follow me.”
Gwen followed the ME through a metal door and into the laboratory that took up the rest of the building. It was a large space with four silver tables surrounded by lights and trays of tools from hell. Six freezers stretched across the back wall, and a desk with multiple computer screens sat in the corner. Along the far side, a long counter with a sink, cabinets, microscopes, beakers and everything else you’d expect to see in a lab.
The room was dark except for a single light in the back corner, illuminating a table covered with a gray sheet draped over a body. Blonde hair spilled over the side.
“Sorry about the lack of lights. Thought maybe the news gnats would head home.”
“News gnats. I might use that name in the future.”
“You should quote me in one of your presentations. You know, as the sexy, smart, single medical examiner.”
Gwen laughed. “The only thing you’d want less than media vans outside your doors are a bunch of male entomologists. Trust me.”
“Hey if there’s one thing I’ve learned about analyzing the dead is that you need to date someone with a similar profession.”
“I hear that,” she muttered.
As expected, she was being led straight to the sheet.
“I can’t believe you’re here, really. Although knowing Wesley…” Jessica’s voice trailed off.
“Knowing Wesley, what?”
“Doesn’t take ‘no’ too kindly. If there’s a challenge, he’s like a dog with a bone.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave Gwen the once over. “You met him yet?”
“No.”
A slight grin crossed the ME’s lips, and she looked away.
What was that about? A grin? About her not meeting Wesley? Dammit, she hated being out of the loop.
Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii, she repeated in her head.
“So, like I said, I have no idea why I’m here…”
They walked up to the table and without preamble, Jessica yanked back the gray sheet. “She’s why you’re here.”
Gwen’s stomach rolled as she looked down at the open wound gaping from the young woman’s throat. She could see all the way to the bone. The blood had been drained from her body, leaving bluish-gray skin. She looked like a wax figure in a horror flick.
“Who is she?”
“Leena Ross, age thirty-three. Kidnapped, although that’s assumed, throat slashed, left to bleed to death.”
“Time of death?”
“About midnight Thursday night, technically Friday morning. Close to. She’s been dead around thirty hours, estimated.”
“Where was she found? Inside or outside?”
Jessica paused, and Gwen noticed. “Inside. A basement.”
“Struggle?”
“Kind of.” She peeled back the sheet and pointed to the knife mark on Leena’s side, that indicated she’d been forced into a car at knifepoint. She then showed her the bruising on Leena’s arms indicating the killer pinned her down from behind to slice her throat.
Gwen shook her head. Young, blonde, beautiful. Wasted life.
“Suspect?”
“Nope.”
“What about her folks? Did they have anything useful?”
“No… no one seems to have any idea who would do this to her.”
“Okay. How can I help?”
“I found insect eggs in her wound.”
Gwen blinked. No way in hell was that why she was flown across the country. She cleared her throat. “Uh, that’s not uncommon.”
“It is for only being dead a few minutes, at the most, before she was found. And for being killed inside a building.”
Her eyebrows tipped up. “Only a few minutes before someone found her?”
“Yep. And she wasn’t left alone after that. Authorities were on the scene almost immediately. They wouldn’t let bugs trample over her.”
“Okay, I see. Yes, this would be uncommon, then.”
Jessica yanked a pair of latex gloves from a box on the silver rolling table and handed them to her. “I was surprised, to say the least. Didn’t add up.”
“Y
ou’re sure she was murdered inside? A home, or what?”
Jessica glanced away for a quick second. “Yes. I’m sure, and yes, a home.”
Gwen watched her for a moment. Jessica wasn’t telling her something.
“You’re sure they’re insect eggs? Eggs at all, even?” She slid on the gloves.
“One-hundred percent. I’d say at least half of my bodies come in with maggots. I’m very familiar.”
“And they were in the wound?”
“Almost two inches in.”
Humph. Yes, this was interesting. Something wasn’t adding up.
Jessica continued, “I took samples of the eggs, storing some in alcohol and some in vials over there. They’ve just hatched.”
Gwen frowned in deep thought. “If they’ve just hatched, the eggs were fresh.”
Jessica shrugged. “Not sure; that’s your area. I checked again just a few hours ago, and some are still unhatched.”
Good. That was good.
“We’re obviously hoping you can uncover something to help lead us to whoever did this. My only disturbance to the laceration was removing the eggs to confirm they were indeed eggs. Samples are on the counter, over there.” She motioned toward the far side of the room. “Probably not the most high-tech equipment you’re used to, but not bad for little ol’ Berry Springs.”
“It will work just fine, thanks. Do you have the case file?”
“Oh. Yes, thanks, almost forgot.” She yanked a folder from the counter. “Here you go. Not much there, I’m ’fraid, considering it’s a fresh case. Probably not as thorough as you’d like but it has all the necessary details and initial analysis.” A phone rang from the office up front. “Gotta get that. I’ll leave you alone. Oh, here’s a lab coat and glasses.”
“Perfect, thanks.”
“You need a coffee, water…?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, mi casa, su casa. Use whatever you need. Holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and slipped the lab coat over her clothes as Jessica’s footsteps faded. The white coat was about four sizes too big and the glasses—more like goggles—were, too.
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