The Soul Collectors dm-4

by Chris Mooney

  She didn't like the way he beamed with excitement, like a kid who had discovered a treasure trove of Christmas presents hidden underneath the tree skirt. And the loving way he spoke about this thing, in the sort of tone reserved for the discovery of a soul mate, convinced her this guy was off his rocker. No wedding ring on his finger. What a surprise.

  She knew almost everyone who worked in this building and had never seen him before.

  'I'm sorry, and you are?'

  'Nigel Perkins, from the University of Massachusetts,' he said, extending a hand. Darby shook it. 'I specialize in arachnids. Special Agent Martynovich sent me to identify the specimens.'

  Darby nodded, impressed. Sergey had not only found someone incredibly quickly but had also got the man to hop to. Apparently FBI credentials opened a lot of doors. Fast.

  'Mr Perkins, if you're going to attend the examination, you need to get dressed.'

  The man looked perplexed.

  Darby pointed to her uniform and said, 'You need to wear one of these. There's a locker room across the hall. You'll find everything you need in there.'

  Coop, a clipboard gripped in his gloved hand, stepped up next to her as Perkins hustled out of the room.

  'Who do you think is creepier?' Coop asked. 'Perkins or your friend in the fish tank?'

  'I'd say they're equal.'

  The freezer door opened. Two men dressed head to toe in white coveralls, face shields and thick blue gloves wheeled a bloated corpse into the autopsy room. The person manning the bottom end of the gurney was Jack Casey. She couldn't see his face but his size gave him away. He had wedged his body into a pair of coveralls that looked like they were about to split.

  When the second man turned and started backing up the gurney next to the autopsy table, she got a good, clear look at a pair of wild and busy white Andy Rooney-type eyebrows. Dr Samuel Ellis, the new head of the medical examiner's office. His face was a mottled red, the sure sign he'd just had a heated argument. Probably with Casey. The former profiler's face, she saw, also looked flushed. She wondered what the argument had been about — probably turf-war bullshit, she thought. The body should have been waiting for them on the autopsy table. Ellis, bland and dour, had probably put it in the freezer and scheduled it for sometime tomorrow. The man placed a lot of importance on proper procedure, and he was very protective about who he let into his autopsy rooms — and, make no mistake, he considered everything inside this building as his.

  The two men transferred the body to the autopsy table. Darby found her kit, the bright orange toolbox she kept in the bottom of her closet, sitting on a worktop, waiting. She opened it and took the items she needed from the top shelf — the forensic light, the long tweezers and a handful of glassine bags she used for trace evidence.

  Perkins came back into the room, his gloved fingers fumbling with the face shield, trying to attach it to his suit. With a heavy and theatrical sigh, Ellis darted around Casey to give Perkins a hand.

  Casey paid no attention. He seemed to have dissociated himself from everyone in the room. When she reached across the body and handed the bags to Coop, the former profiler's cold blue eyes remained fixed on the body, studying it not with a sense of loss or revulsion but of opportunity.

  Darby moved to the top of the table to begin her examination.

  58

  The body's swollen, decimated face was a mess of purple and red contusions and gnawed-off sections of flesh, some so deep she could see bone. She doubted an ordinary spider could do this kind of damage, but that screaming thing locked in the fish tank didn't seem like any run-of-the-mill arachnid. She was willing to bet its enormous finger-sized pincers could snap a stick in half.

  She turned to Perkins, who stood anxiously by her side. He looked a little white in the face, his skin already beaded with sweat.

  'Your first time seeing a dead body, Dr Perkins?'

  He nodded, kept nodding.

  'If you think you're going to be sick, either step outside or, if you don't think you can make it, use one of the trashcans.'

  'And,' Coop added, 'don't forget to pull off your face shield. You don't want any blowback.'

  Using her tweezers, she pointed to a section of gnawed flesh on the victim's face and said to Perkins: 'That Camel Spider, can it cause this kind of damage?'

  'If the man was dead, then yes,' Perkins replied. 'They do have to eat.'

  'Do these spiders generally attack people?'

  'Camel Spiders? No. Oh no. That's a misconception. They're solitary, nocturnal creatures. They don't like direct light, as you can see by the way it's squirming and screaming inside the tank. They prefer darkness and shadows.'

  'One of them jumped at me.'

  'Well, yes, they can do that when they're trying to hide. They're not aggressive — or venomous. A Camel Spider could not have killed this man. Now this mark right here — ' Perkins leaned over the body and pointed a gloved finger at a black ulcerous blister oozing with pus. The wound covered most of the victim's right forearm. 'This is definitely a spider bite. Given the extensive tissue damage, the colour and size of the blister, I'd say this one is the culprit.'

  From the shelf Perkins grabbed a specimen jar holding a furry brown spider with a body the size of a deck of playing cards. Its long, needle-like legs tapped against the glass. Darby noticed a violin-shaped mark on its cylindrical-shaped back.

  'This is a Brown Recluse,' Perkins said. 'Very poisonous. It injects haemotoxin, which produces the distinctive wound you're seeing here on this man's arm. The ulcerous opening on the man's forearm occurs within twenty-four hours after the initial bite.'

  Darby felt sweat gathering under her coveralls. 'Is the bite fatal?'

  'A single bite? No.' Perkins, thankfully, placed the jar back on the shelf. 'The haemotoxin kills the cells and tissues at the bite and slowly spreads. That being said, the bite, if left untreated, can lead to fever and vomiting and, in rare cases, coma and death. That occurs within two or three days. Now, granted, I'm not a medical doctor, so I can't tell you when this man died. But I can tell you he was bitten multiple times by several different venomous spiders.'

  Perkins traced a gloved finger above a series of red and purple welts of various sizes that started at the victim's shoulder and ran across his chest, legs and pubic area. One appeared to have bitten him on a testicle. It was black, swollen to the size of a grapefruit. She found several more bites on the soles of the man's feet.

  Perkins said, 'Almost all of the spiders in these specimen jars are what you would classify as poisonous or deadly. I was surprised to find a pair of Tunnel Web Spiders — the Sydney species. Sydney as in Sydney, Australia. Their bite is extremely painful, and their venom carries atraxotoxin, which disrupts neurotransmitters. The victim experiences muscle twitching, severe nausea and vomiting.'

  'Are they common in the US?'

  'No, absolutely not.'

  So someone smuggled them in here, she thought, and made a note on her clipboard for Sergey to check customs logs, see if anyone was caught trying to bring venomous spiders into the country.

  'These spiders,' Perkins said, 'live in dry, hot climates. They wouldn't survive long in this cold.'

  'In the house where I found them the heat had been cranked up to 95 degrees.'

  'The one at the far end is a Black House Spider. Not toxic, but the bite causes deep pain and plenty of sweating and vomiting. Not only are those babies very quick on their feet, they're highly aggressive. If you disturb them, they go on the defensive. Dr Ellis, when you run your toxicology reports, I'm sure you'll find several different kinds of venom inside this man's system, as I said.'

  'Enough to kill him?'

  'Oh, yes, most definitely. And it would have been a horrible death. Once, while I was in El Salvador, I was bitten on the hand when trying to collect the Pink-Bellied Spider. Not only was the pain incredible, I couldn't stop vomiting — and this after I was administered an anti-toxin. Whoever did this used these lovely creatures to inflict an
unbelievable amount of pain and suffering.'

  Darby switched on her forensic light and, moving closer, started examining the face for trace evidence. The eyes had been eaten, and deep inside one of the hollow sockets of rotted and frozen meat she discovered a small black spider with a body the size of a pencil eraser.

  She gripped it with the tweezers, watched the legs struggling in the air, seeking purchase. Coop had a jar ready. She dropped the spider in it, and after he closed the lid he handed the jar to Perkins.

  'That's a Black Widow,' Perkins said. 'There could be more in the eye sockets, the ear and nasal cavities. They're tiny, as you can see, and they're very good at hiding. Be very careful if you find one — if you find any spider, for that matter. Dr Ellis placed the body in the refrigeration unit or whatever you call it, and I can tell you spiders don't care for the cold, puts them in an aggressive mood.'

  'Excuse me.' Ellis's voice. 'I'd like to remind everyone here that I strenuously object to conducting this examination now, as we don't have the appropriate anti-venom on hand. Mr Casey assured me that vials are being collected and will be flown here and hand-delivered, courtesy of our federal tax dollars, so if one of you should happen to get bitten, the federal government will be assuming the liability. Do I have that right, Mr Casey?'

  'You do.'

  'Are you sure? Did I leave anything out?'

  'Evidence that we collect will be sealed and given to a courier to be brought back to our lab.'

  Darby thought of the man she'd seen standing next to the suitcase.

  'Anything else?' Ellis prompted.

  'Yes. Thank you, again, for assisting us.'

  Casey's voice had that odd, detached tone again, as if he had departed his body and left someone else to pull the puppet strings.

  Then, to Darby, he said: 'See the puncture wounds running along the sides of the back?'

  'Yes.' Bright and red, they oozed blood.

  'They cover the victim's entire back, legs and buttocks.'

  Darby looked up and across the body. 'Any ideas?'

  'No,' Casey said, 'but the puncture wounds all look the same, and there's… there's an order to them, as if he had been forced to sit on something sharp.'

  'What about the welts on the front of the torso?'

  'Whip marks,' Casey said. 'Most of the wounds are pretty fresh, so this couldn't have been done too long ago. The marks along the wrists and ankles are consistent with restraints, probably leather. Whatever they did to him, they had him strapped down.'

  Using the tweezers, Darby parted the hairs on the man's head. Her other hand held the forensic light. She moved it over the scalp, searching for evidence and, now, spiders. She immediately found a series of tiny welts.

  'Spider bites,' Perkins said.

  Darby kept searching, wondering if the spiders had been dumped on the victim to ensure immediate bites — or if he had simply been locked inside the closet with them crawling around in the dark. Both thoughts were equally disturbing.

  Perkins seized the upper part of her arm, his gloved fingers digging into the meat of her bicep with a strength that surprised her.

  'Stay still.'

  She did, and out of the corner of her eye watched as Perkins's hand came back from underneath her right forearm, clutching a black spider the size of a matchbook. Squat, black and incredibly hairy, it squirmed in the air, its oversized fangs exposed.

  'An Australian Recluse,' Perkins said, carrying it to a specimen jar. 'Very fast and very poisonous.'

  Darby blinked the sweat away from her eyes and then quickly gathered herself. Coop stood across from her, on the other side of the table. She looked at him and said, 'We'll need close-ups of the wounds on the scalp.'

  He nodded and grabbed the camera. She pointed to the first wound, which was a few inches beyond the hairline, then moved away to give him some room. It would take him a minute or two to set up the shot. She used the time to take a quick look around for any more stray creepy-crawlers.

  There were none on the table — at least none that she could see. She checked behind the victim's head and, failing to find any, searched the ear canals with a new and brighter flashlight. Clean. Same with the man's nasal cavity. Nothing in there except a forest of fine black nasal hairs.

  Now the mouth. Fortunately it hung open, frozen in place by rigor. She had to break the jaw to get a better look.

  The victim's mouth, throat and the soft smooth pink cheek lining had multiple abrasions and contusions. She dipped her tweezers inside the mouth and prodded around the victim's tongue for stray spiders. She inserted her tweezers down the throat and hit something hard.

  Coop said, 'What is it?'

  'I don't know. Someone hand me the forceps.'

  Ellis said, 'I should be the one who — '

  'Sam, just give me the damn forceps.'

  She needed a brighter light. She reached up and grabbed the plastic arm belonging to one of the autopsy lights. She turned it on and pivoted the circular dish with its intense, bright light near the face. It took her a moment to find the right angle to illuminate every inch inside the victim's mouth. Something was definitely lodged in the throat.

  Ellis slapped the forceps against her waiting palm to make sure she knew he wasn't pleased at playing lab assistant. She caught the grin on Coop's face before turning her attention back to her work.

  Grabbing the object was easy. The forceps had found purchase immediately, but dislodging the thing in question from the throat was another matter. Whatever it was, it had been shoved a good way down the victim's oesophagus. It took a few minutes of delicate, almost surgical manoeuvring before she could move the item into the intensely bright light. A USB drive and a small, severed finger, bound together with a red elastic hair-band.

  59

  The finger belonged to a woman. The long fingernail had chipped red polish on it.

  Sarah Casey had worn the same red nail polish, the same red elastic hair-band, in the pictures tacked to the bedroom closet. The blood on her T-shirt had come from the severed finger and she hadn't been screaming in fear in those pictures; she had been screaming in pain.

  Darby placed the finger and USB drive on the dish Coop had waiting.

  'I want to get this printed,' the former profiler said, his voice trembling.

  Coop said, 'I'll do it.'

  Casey moved away from the table and she said to Coop, 'The second you're done printing that finger, put it on ice and then have one of the feds or Secret Service take it over to Mass General to give to Dr Izzo.'

  'That the guy who fixed Dale Brown's finger?'

  'That's him. Izzo managed to reattach it because we put it on ice.'

  Coop darted away. Darby looked at Ellis and said, 'I need two buccal swabs, the ones with the brushes.'

  'They're in the same place they always are,' he said, pointing across the room.

  'I know. I need you to get them for me.'

  Ellis gave another theatrical sigh as he moved to get the packets. He came back a moment later, ripped open one and handed her a long plastic rod with a tiny white scrub brush on the end. She stuck the brush inside the victim's mouth, scrubbed the frozen cheek lining, then removed it and placed the brush inside the sterile plastic cylinder Ellis had pinched between his fingers.

  The first sample she could use for PCR-ready DNA identification. The second buccal swab she could save in case further DNA identification was needed.

  The samples collected, she grabbed the kits she needed to collect fingernail scrapings. Ellis assisted without any further bitching and moaning. He had even got into the spirit of things by picking up Coop's clipboard and making notes.

  Darby turned off the bright autopsy light. Switching to a forensic light with a green filter, she searched the victim's mouth for trace evidence, finding a small fibre — possibly a rug fibre, judging by its size and shape. She dropped it into the glassine envelope Ellis had waiting.

  There was more. A single blond hair, which was sadly missing
its DNA-packed root bulb. A black speck that could have been a piece of leather, stuck behind the back-right molar. She prised it out carefully with the tweezers.

  Dr Ellis leaned over the body. 'Is that a bumblebee?'

  'It's definitely a bee,' she said, 'but not an ordinary one.'

  'And you know this how?'

  'It doesn't have the usual yellow or red bands. The body is entirely black and the eyes are abnormally large. Dr Perkins, hand me one of those specimen jars on the shelf across from you… No, the next shelf, the bottom one. Thank you.'

  She dropped the bee into a specimen jar, and then she ran her forensic light back and forth inside the victim's mouth, searching the crevices between the lip and gum line, and caught a faint glow from the corner of her eye.

  Darby turned, blinking and moving the hand holding the flashlight. The glow had vanished.

  Something was there. She had seen something on the soft lining behind the man's lip.

  Darby moved away from the body, grabbed the UV forensic light and turned back to the victim's mouth, examining the smooth cavity between the teeth and cheek. Nothing glowed. She turned the light slowly, trying different angles and then different light sources. She had seen something, she knew she hadn't -

  There, on the soft area behind the bottom lip, the labial sulcus: a bright fluorescent glowing shape now visible to the naked eye. She fumbled around for the best angle and distance, and then had to steady her head in order to see it fully:

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ellis leaning in for a closer look.

  'What in God's name is that?' he asked.

  'Looks like some sort of symbol. Where's Coop?'

  'He's in here. Hold on.'

  Darby didn't know what the symbol meant, but knew it had been tattooed into the skin using some sort of ink invisible to the naked eye. She thought about the stamps used at nightclubs, amusement parks and some kids-themed restaurants. A hand was stamped with a fluorescent but invisible ink as the person entered. Then, if they had to exit the place and come back in, the person placed their hand underneath a black light, which illuminated the stamp and let the business know the person had already paid the entrance fee. That ink washed off and eventually faded. The ink on the lip had been tattooed into the skin. In a hidden area.