There was a slight softening to her features and she sighed. “I believe your anger is clouding your judgment, Mari. Solana had nothing to do with those crimes. I’m sure of it. Does Jake share your opinion that Solana is a suspect?”
Mari chewed on his lips for a moment. At last he shook his head, defeated. “Not as much as I do. No. But his mother isn’t taking herbal baths with her, is she?”
His mother’s expression flushed angry again. “There is absolutely nothing inappropriate going on in our sessions, and, even if there was, it would be none of your business.”
He threw his hands up and Tonka stared at him and uttered a startled bark in response.
“I didn’t say there was. Did I say anything at all about inappropriate? I just pointed out that the opportunity was there if she isn’t to be trusted. If. That’s all.”
“I am done with this conversation, Ilmarinen. I don’t want to hear another word about Solana until you’re ready to make amends with her.”
Mari’s heart kicked against his ribs at that. Mama had always listened to him. Even when she’d believed that his decision to transition had been hasty, she’d listened and given him the benefit of the doubt. Hearing confirmation that she would support a complete stranger first hurt more than he was willing to admit.
He turned away to hide his dismay. “I’m going to take Tonka out. He needs a walk. So do I.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jake had been concerned when Mari had called to tell him he just wanted to stay in and get an early night, so his first thought when his phone rang at three a.m. was that something terrible had happened.
Something terrible had happened, just not to Mari. The last victim of the Cemetery Rapist had succumbed to her injuries. Cordiline sounded exhausted, his voice raspy and tired on the other end of the phone as he told Jake to get down to the morgue as soon as he could.
He was out of bed and pulling on clothes as he rang Mari. “The Jane Doe in the hospital died tonight. Do you want to come to the morgue with me?” Jake asked.
“You’re such a romantic.” Mari’s voice was husky with sleep. “Give me the coordinates and I’ll meet you there.”
Mari was there first, in a button-down shirt and dark blue two-piece suit, looking ridiculously smart for the time of morning and the short notice. His tousled hair was the only giveaway, and even that was artfully rumpled rather than ‘just crawled out of bed’ disheveled.
Jake greeted him with a quick, tired smile. At least one of them appeared somewhat professional. His own suit coat was expensive and tailored but needed to be pressed and the rasp of stubble on his chin needed to be scraped off.
Cordiline was waiting for them in the lobby.
“Dr. Gale,” Cordiline said in a mild, polite tone, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Nobody expects the Finnish Inquisition,” Mari murmured, and Cordiline glanced oddly at him. Jake saw the way that both men’s lips twitched at the joke before the DI turned back to him. Will wonders never cease? Common ground.
“I thought I could use another Elemental’s opinion,” Jake said.
“You almost have a full set, Inspector,” Mari told him. “Are we here to witness miracles?”
Cordiline sighed. “I have no idea. I suppose we’ll see pretty soon if this is all just a con to get Mustatti out of his cell for a few hours. Will either of you be able to tell if what he says is the truth?”
“You’ll find out for yourself if he’s telling the truth about his ability,” Jake said.
“What do you mean? I thought the ‘séance’”—Cordiline made air quotes with his fingers—“would be Mustatti telling us what he’s hearing ‘from beyond’.” Again, he quirked his fingers.
“You’re thinking of movie psychics. An Earth Elemental that can make the dead speak does so literally.”
“He’s the last word in spectral ventriloquism,” Mari elaborated with less subtlety. “At least, one would hope so, having thrown oneself out of bed at such an ungodly hour. If he’s faking, I’m going to be very annoyed.”
“You’ll know if it’s fake or not, believe me.” Jake grimaced. “If he’s for real, you’ll see a talking corpse.” He felt dirty just saying it and didn’t want to go beyond the solid-looking doors at the end of the hall. He clamped down on the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and run out of the building. He wasn’t afraid, not of dead bodies or ghosts, but the thought of what Aled would force that body to do made his skin crawl.
Perhaps Mari sensed it because he was the one to make the first move, touching his fingers to Jake’s upper arm, light as snow, when he drew level. There was forced cheeriness in his voice now.
“Shall we see what Jane has to say for herself?”
The three of them moved down the hall and through the heavy modern double doors that had been retrofitted into the old bricks.
The autopsy room was as chilly and antiseptic smelling as any hospital OR, but the patients that landed here were unlikely to lodge any complaints. Three uniformed constables, including PCSO Ladley stood in a cluster near a metal table upon which the body of their Jane Doe was laid out. A few paces from them, wearing the standard prison garb and a set of handcuffs, was Aled Mustatti. He was expressionless until he spotted Jake, then he flashed a sardonic grin. Jake kept his own expression blank.
Cordiline made introductions and Jake and Mari shook hands with the officers.
“Detective Chivis, I wasn’t sure you would come,” Mustatti said.
Jake kept his game face on. “I would be a hard man to refuse, wouldn’t I.”
Aled’s mocking smile widened. “I suppose you would. Shall we see what this poor tragic soul has to tell us?”
Jake’s gorge rose but he gave no outward sign. “Time is ticking.”
“Right, that it is,” Aled agreed and held up his cuffed wrists. “Would you be so kind?” he said to the constable nearest him.
The man didn’t seem happy to be here, and appeared even less happy to remove the cuffs, but he didn’t question it, either.
Aled stepped up to the table and pulled back the sheet to the woman’s waist. Jake guessed she had been pale enough in life. In death she was waxen, her skin pasty except for the livid bruising around her chest and throat. She was dark-haired and small. Jake would have guessed she had been in her late teens, far too young to be lying in this cold room.
When he looked up, Aled was watching him.
“Ah, there’s an emotion. I was starting to think you didn’t have them,” Aled said.
“You think this is funny? There’s a dead girl on the table—or hadn’t you noticed?” Jake snapped. The cold of the room was sharp against his skin as his body temperature rose with his anger.
“No, I don’t think it’s funny. Not at all, Detective.” He glanced at Mari. “You can come closer if you want. I can see you’re curious, and I’ll wager you won’t witness anything like this again in your lifetime.”
Mari hesitated, inching closer at last, so that he was standing adjacent to Jake on the opposite side of the mortuary table from Aled. His face was pale but his eyes glittered beyond his long, tawny lashes, the only hint of any emotion in his features.
“Can she feel anything?” he asked, his gaze moving from the silent body of the fourth victim to the tall, dark-skinned stranger across from them.
“She is beyond feeling,” Aled said in a gentle tone.
Jake knew it was meant to sound soothing but it just rang false to him. He had to struggle with his temper for a moment. He heard more mockery in that response than was probably there, and he wanted to punch the man for lying to Mari, with his tone if not his words.
He had time to do neither as Aled put one hand on the girl’s forehead and the other on her sternum. In the movies, there might have been flickering lights, a ghostly wind, perhaps some eerie music. None of that happened. In fact, nothing at all happened for almost a full minute.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake could see Mari watching intently. He di
dn’t look disgusted. His expression conveyed more of a detached fascination to Jake.
Aled opened his eyes. The dark brown was obscured by a milky film and his features were slack. He lifted his hands from the girl’s body and her eyes opened as well. There was a gurgling, choking sound coming from her throat and her tongue protruded between her lips.
“Jesus H. Christ…” Jake heard Cordiline murmur behind him.
“Speak. Tell us your name,” Aled commanded.
The girl’s head lifted then slammed against the metal table. Her throat worked and her tongue darted in and out from between her blue lips.
“Speak!” Aled demanded again.
“Christa,” the girl rasped. “Where am I?”
Aled ignored the question and focused his milky eyes on Jake. “What do you want me to ask her?”
“Last name. Address. Did she know her attacker?”
“What was your last name?” Aled said.
The girl, Christa, twisted her head back and forth but the rest of her body was quite still. Her breath sounded labored, and a greenish fluid was leaking from the corner of her mouth. One of the PCs stumbled away, retching.
“Burns,” she said at last.
“Where did you live?”
“Do you have to ask in the past tense?” Jake said.
“She’s dead, Detective. It doesn’t matter,” Aled said. “Where did you live?” he asked again.
She gave the address and Jake saw Cordiline scribble it on a pad of paper.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” Mari asked.
“She won’t answer you, Dr. Gale,” Aled murmured. In a more strident tone, he said, “Christa. Tell me what you last remember.”
For a short while, her head turned slowly from side to side, as if she were denying him, but at last she wailed, an anguished sound that hurt Jake’s ears.
“Choking. I can’t breathe! I can’t breeeaaathheee!”
“Stop! Who choked you?” Aled’s voice cut through the wail and for a moment she was silent. There was no resentment in her face but, to Jake, it seemed as if she tried to deny him every step of the way.
“He did.”
“Who? Give me a name.”
Her head shook for a longer time.
“He did,” she repeated, her words atonal.
“Who choked you? What was his name?”
“He did,” she said again, without elaboration.
“Ask if she knew him,” Jake prompted, his police instincts kicking in and overriding the disgust that made him want to puke right here on the mortuary floor. The cold, sweet stink of death and the sharp tang of disinfectant and embalming fluids filled his senses and he thought he would never be rid of them.
Aled asked the question and Christa answered.
“Yes.”
“Where did she see him?” Jake asked and, like an automaton, Aled repeated the question.
“Home.”
“Did he live with her?”
“Near.”
The corpse started to make choking sounds that soon resolved themselves into soft sobs, although her eyes remained open and tearless.
Mari’s fingers were at work on his tablet already, taking notes, searching for information, though his horrified gaze returned periodically to Christa’s face. His wide eyes glittered with unshed tears.
“Let her go,” he said, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “I’ve got her social media feed. We can track her from here.”
“She can’t or won’t give us a name. Ask her if she knew his name,” Cordiline said.
Aled asked the question.
“No. No name,” came the strained answer from blue swollen lips.
“If you have any more questions, ask them fast,” Aled said hurriedly. Sweat was beading on his brow and his dark skin had an ashen cast to it.
“What did he look like?” Jake asked.
Aled repeated the question and there was another long pause before Christa said, “Through the camera.”
“Ask again,” Jake said with more urgency.
Aled did, but after a moment or two, she went completely still, her wide-open eyes staring up at the ceiling. Aled asked twice more but there was no response and he stumbled back from the body, closing his own eyes and gasping for breath.
“That’s it. That’s all I can do,” he said and if he was feigning the exhaustion, he was a better actor than Jake gave him credit for.
No one spoke, no one moved. The room was filled with the sound of harsh breathing. After a moment, Jake reached over and gently closed Christa’s eyes, then pulled the sheet over her again with careful hands. He moved away from her and from Mustatti. Aled was right about her being dead, beyond sensing their words or touch, but that didn’t do anything to erase the uncomfortable idea that they had violated her again.
“Detective…” Aled called to him but Jake didn’t turn. “Jake, I’m sorry. I hope this makes up for what I did to you.”
Jake swung around. He grabbed Aled by the throat and slammed his head against the wall before anyone else moved. The taller man flailed at him, trying to break his grip, but Jake was stronger.
Cordiline and the other male police officer were on them both in moments, prying them apart. Mari was seconds behind, having stopped to place his tablet on the edge of the stainless-steel mortuary table. He focused his attention on Jake, undeterred by his partner’s efforts to shake him off and go for Aled again.
“Sshhhhh… Jake…no. Let it go. He didn’t have to help us,” he said, his voice low but still hard edged. “Leave it. Come away. We’ve got enough.”
“You should watch your temper, Jake. You can’t afford to get this angry,” Aled taunted him.
“Whose fucking fault is that?” Jake shouted at him.
Aled looked surprised. “You’re still angry about the drug? But it was worth the price, wasn’t it? I figured you were only mad about the other thing…”
Jake lunged at him again, somehow getting an arm free from Cordiline. He threw a right hook and his fist landed square on Aled’s jaw, sending him reeling back into the arms of the PC that was more holding him up than holding him back.
“That’s enough! Get out of here!” Cordiline barked, grabbing Jake again and shoving him away. The strength behind that push was controlled. He could feel that, if it came to blows, they would be well-matched. “Go home, Jake. Now.”
Jake saw red, but he was not so crazed that he was willing to end up in a cell next to the scumbag who was still holding his face and moaning. Nor did he want to fight with John over this. He turned around and stalked out through the double doors before he did something he knew he’d regret.
Mari hesitated only long enough to grab his tablet and stuff it into his messenger bag. He flashed Cordiline an apologetic look.
“Thank you. That was truly fascinating. I ought to…” He waved a hand in the direction Jake had gone.
Cordiline nodded but said, “I want both of you in my office, at Kentish Town, at eight a.m. sharp. Understood?”
“Perfectly.” Mari was already heading for the door.
“Tell your boyfriend that if he pulls a stunt like that on me again, he’s off this case,” Cordiline shouted after him.
The door banged shut and Mari hit the steps up to street level at a run. There was no sign of Jake when he got out of the building, so he turned for home, following his instincts, moving at a brisk trot, since he wasn’t dressed for a full out sprint. When he rounded the next corner, he caught sight of Jake’s familiar, tall figure, brooding shoulders hunched against the light morning drizzle that had begun to fall while they were inside. He stretched to a run to catch up with him but gave Jake some space once he had drawn level. The reasons for his anger were hardly mysterious. Aled Mustatti’s organization, Birthright, had abducted Jake and injected him with an experimental drug that subjected him to the risk of bursting into flames if he got too stressed. But he wasn’t currently doing his stress levels much good, in Mari’s opin
ion.
“Are you okay?” he asked at last, when Jake failed to acknowledge him after they had matched strides for a whole block. “I mean…apart from the obvious. You know, the girl. Aled being a prick. Apart from all that.”
“I don’t think I’m about to combust, if that’s what you asking,” Jake snapped. He came to an abrupt halt and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.” He reached out and pulled Mari into an embrace. “I’m okay.”
After the day he’d had, to be held was nice. Mari slid his arms around Jake, glad that his anger wasn’t anything else that might come between them. He curled his fingers around the back of Jake’s neck, drawing him closer, with his cheek on his shoulder. In this position, he could rub his face in Jake’s hair and breathe in his familiar, comforting scent.
“What he did was horrible, but it will help us catch her killer,” he promised, his voice gone husky with the emotions he’d struggled to restrain in the morgue. “Isn’t that worth playing nice with him for a while?”
“He’s a disgusting sack of shit,” Jake said.
“I agree. But he volunteered to do this thing. I can’t imagine that it was a pleasure for him. It certainly wasn’t for the rest of us,” Mari whispered into his hair.
“He doesn’t care that she’s dead. He’s trying to get early parole. That’s all.” Jake fumed.
Mari let him go and stroked light fingers down Jake’s unshaven cheeks once they stood facing each other again.
“What’s wrong, Chivis? It’s not normal for you to fly off the handle like that. He’s paying for his crime. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, choosing his words with care. “And what did he mean, ‘you were only mad about the other thing’? That wasn’t to do with the drug, was it? What was he talking about?”
“Nothing.” Jake started walking again.
Mari turned and followed. “Jake…”
“Goddamn it. I knew it was a bad idea to put you in the same room with him,” Jake seethed.
“If you don’t want to talk about it…”
“No. I don’t. He’s a fucking pervert. That’s all that needs to be said…ever,” Jake responded in clipped sentences.
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