by S. C. Stokes
“Thanks, Jones, see you upstairs.”
“Alright,” Kasey exclaimed, striding over to the gurney. “Let’s see what we've got here.”
Kasey unzipped the white sheath and was confronted with the body of a young woman. “Give me a hand here, Bishop. I need to get her out, so I can see what we're working with.”
Together, Kasey and Bishop lifted Brandy, and set her on the morgue’s steel examination table.
A familiar mist clouded Kasey’s vision.
As the mist cleared, Kasey found herself moving through suburbia. She realized that she didn't recognize any familiar landmarks. In the distance, she could vaguely make out the lights of the New York City skyline but at this size, it was clear they were some distance away.
I must be in the outer suburbs.
Looking down Kasey found she was wearing yoga pants and a light jacket. In that moment, Kasey knew she was experiencing this vision from the woman's point of view.
These are the worst.
She hated it when her gift seemed to manifest in this incredibly personal and, in Kasey's opinion, invasive extreme.
It was bizarre to be trapped in another person's body, unable to move of her own volition. Kasey forced to simply be along for the ride. The woman was listening to some jazz and blues as she jogged quietly through the streets. At least she has good taste in music. It could be far worse.
Unfortunately, the blaring music drowned out Kasey's ability to hear anything going on around Brandy. In the predawn light, it was also difficult to make out much of the environment due to the poorly lit street.
The unfamiliar environment, low light, and background noise was making it quite difficult for Kasey to gain any form of background information for the vision she was seeing. As she had become all too familiar with, context was everything to the prescient. For the most part, she might catch only the slightest glimmer of useful information. It was made meaningful by the context she witnessed in the fleeting visions.
Aside from the pervading sense of danger, Kasey was thoroughly enjoying a morning jog in which she had to put in zero of the effort required. In the distance, she spied a set of headlights. The car drew nearer, a silver sedan cruising along the quiet suburban street. With Bishop's words echoing in her head, Kasey knew what was about to happen.
She panicked.
The vehicle's headlights blinded her, rendering yet another sense worthless. Brandy closed her eyes…
Kasey fought the urge to scream, knowing it was only a vision. Such a scream would be difficult to explain to Bishop who was likely still standing beside her and confused at her lack of response. The scene before her felt so very real, and for the victim lying before her in the morgue, it had been.
Then Brandy opened her eyes and the car was gone. Just another early bird. As many times as she had witnessed these visions, Kasey still struggled to understand what she was experiencing. It was like trying to guess a random number between one and a hundred. Sometimes dumb luck would help see her get it the first time, but most of the time she found herself just blindly fumbling around, hoping for the best.
Kasey anxiously hunted for any sign of context that might aid her.
Suddenly, the world was upside down. Something had struck Brandy, hard.
Kasey was grateful she could not feel what the victims in her vision experienced.
She went dizzy as her vision spun. Houses, bushes, the road, the sky. All spun by at mind boggling speed and then it all stopped. Kasey's vision went black as the woman blinked. She was straining her eyes but all she could see was the sky above and bright lights. Kasey realized the woman was lying on the pavement. Two bright lights obscured much of her vision.
Kasey tried to focus but it was difficult, the glaring lights belonged to a car. The silver sedan she had seen earlier. Focusing on the number plate, Kasey seared it into her memory. EZY 8055. The music had died; presumably because Brandy's phone had been damaged in the fall. Kasey could hear the pain in Brandy's voice as she groaned in agony. Not for the first time, Kasey was glad she couldn’t feel the pain of those whose visions she shared. The car door opened, and Kasey sought to get a glimpse of the driver, but it was impossible. The bright headlights made sure of that.
The woman's eyes closed once more, and Kasey's vision clouded over.
“Kasey, are you still with us?” a voice called. It was Bishop.
Her vision cleared, and she found herself back in the morgue, standing over the young woman's body. Kasey was still holding her shoulders where she had lifted the young woman out of the body bag.
“Kasey?” Bishop asked.
“Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about the victim.”
“Care to share with the class?” Bishop asked. “You kind of zoned out for a while there. Thought you were daydreaming on me. Kind of a weird place to be doing it, though.”
“Not daydreaming, just thinking. That is my job after all, isn't it?” Kasey asked, putting Bishop on the defensive. Better to shift the attention back to the case.
Bishop smiled. “Indeed, it is. Fill me in. What had you so entranced?”
Kasey looked down at Brandy. “Well, the victim was hit by a car, as you mentioned. Even without a thorough examination that much is evident.” Picking up a pair of scissors from a nearby tray, Kasey began to cut away Brandy’s clothing to illustrate her point. Moving around the table she started at her left leg.
“This hip is likely broken. That will be from the impact of the car. The surrounding bruises are consistent with being struck at speed. The height at which she was struck is indicative of a small sedan.” Kasey moved further up Brandy’s body. “This bruising on her upper body, along with the cuts and abrasions on her arms and head will be from her body striking the car and then being thrown forward onto the sidewalk.”
“How do you know she was on the sidewalk?” Bishop asked. “I didn’t say anything about the sidewalk.”
“No, you didn't,” Kasey said, kicking herself for the slip up. “But the nature of the abrasions did. Had this woman struck the asphalt of the street, the cuts would have a different shape and pattern. There would also be trace amounts of it in the wounds. And while there certainly is some dirt in there, I’ve not seen anything that leads me to believe she ever struck the road.”
Bishop nodded appreciatively at the insight. “You are right, of course. We found her on the sidewalk. The car would have had to mount the curb to hit her. Probably a drunk driver.”
“How about the scene?” Kasey asked, choosing her words carefully. “Was it indicative of an accident? As you said earlier, if it were a drunk driver, there would be copious evidence. Was the car there when the body was discovered?”
“No, the car was already gone when we arrived,” Bishop replied.
Kasey pressed on. “Surely a drunk driver would have careened into a tree, or a fence or something. The subsequent noise would have drawn neighbors and witnesses. Were there any of those?”
“Only the man who found her. Came out to collect his paper and found her lying there. Called us immediately but she had been dead for at least an hour, maybe more.”
“Well, she may have been hit by a car,” Kasey began, “but it was no accident. It was murder. The killer had likely mapped out the route beforehand. Otherwise, they simply got lucky and went unseen, but the former is far more likely than the latter.”
“I gathered that much, can you give me anything that might help us identify who did this?” Bishop asked Kasey.
“Not until we've conducted a more thorough examination. That could take hours. Sorry to say, but now, good old-fashioned police work is your best bet on this one,” Kasey lied. She already had the license plate of the vehicle responsible, but there was no way of giving that info to Bishop without arousing suspicion or coming across as a crazy person.
She could only hope that Bishop was able to track down the lead herself. Perhaps a traffic camera might have caught the murder, or at least the getaway.
“Alright, Kasey, w
ell, keep me posted. I'll head up to the bullpen and run down other avenues. We still need to speak with the family. Perhaps they might know who would have wanted to do this.”
“Will do, detective.”
Bishop strode purposefully out of the morgue, leaving Kasey alone with her thoughts.
“What a week,” Kasey said to no one in particular.
To think it was only Wednesday was a little depressing. Working at the station had a far different pace to what she had experienced at the OCME. Between visiting crime scenes and assisting Vida with the autopsies, it was proving exhausting. Added to that, the continued pressure from the Ainsleys, the attention from Chief West, and now the censure from the ADI and the Arcane Council, Kasey was feeling particularly exhausted. All her issues were compounding with a throbbing headache she was sporting from last night's encounter with Brad.
It was making for a truly awful day.
In her moment of self-pity and reflection, Kasey didn't hear the footsteps until they were right behind her.
“Well,” the voice began, “if this isn't a case of déjà vu, I don't know what is.”
Chapter Eight
Kasey almost leaped out of her skin on hearing the voice. Spinning toward the door, Kasey came face-to-face with Vida.
“Whoa, Kasey, it's just me. Told you I’d be back. What happened to the scary men in suits? And while we’re at it…What happened to your cheek?” He pointed at her face.
“Sorry, Vida, I didn't hear you come in. Yeah, the suits are gone, have been for almost an hour now. Why were you so skittish around them? They were just Internal Affairs.”
He laughed nervously. “Look, with our President and his stance on immigration, I have to keep my eyes open.”
“You’re British, Vida.” Kasey answered, dodging his second question. “What are you worried about?”
“With a name like Vida Khatri, I have a better than even chance of being deported. Can’t be too careful,” he replied, affecting his best imitation of an Indian accent. “Speaking of careful, I’ll ask again: what happened to your face?”
“Oh, that?” she answered, gingerly touching her jaw. “Practice fight in the gym. I train most nights.”
“Boxing?”
“Mixed martial arts,” she answered.
“Impressive, much like that bruise. Hope you gave as good as you got,” he answered with a wink.
“Oh, you should see the other guy,” she replied with a laugh. “I assure you he is just as sore as I am this morning.”
“I'd expect nothing less,” Vida replied as he circled the examination table.
“What did you mean, déjà vu?” she asked.
“Are you kidding me?” He pointed to the body on the table. “Look at her. She could be the sister of the one you brought in yesterday. A little older perhaps, and her hair is a little darker, but if you look at the roots you can see she has been dyeing it. Similar bone structure in her face. You're telling me she is no relation to Beth from yesterday?”
“Not as far as I know,” Kasey said. “According to Bishop, her name is Brandy Cahill. I've not had a chance to do any digging, but on the surface, it appears not. Why?”
“They are awfully similar in appearance, both have died violently in unnatural circumstances, and both of them in a short window of time. It could just be coincidence, or we could be looking at victims of the same killer,” Vida concluded.
“No, Vida, we went over this yesterday. Beth was killed by Brad, and I am sure Brad had nothing to do with Brandy here.”
“How can you be so sure? Vida raised his eyebrow.
“Easy. Brad was admitted to a psychiatric institution early this morning. Bishop told me about it,” Kasey lied again. Of course, the suits had been the ones to give her that particular information, but that would be even harder to explain. “So, unless they gave him a car and let him loose minutes later in the greater New York area, I don't think Brad is our man.”
“Well, as I told you yesterday, Kasey, I don't believe Brad killed Beth either. So, we are still looking for two killers, and if these young women keep showing up on our table, I'm going to suggest we are only looking for one,” Vida replied. “If you don't believe me, let's get out Beth. We haven't released the body yet. Let's put the two side-by-side and see.”
“See what?” she asked.
“See if there isn't some substance to my theory,” he answered. “I would have thought you would have wanted to be sure. If there is a serial killer running around Manhattan, and these girls are his or her type, then you might just find yourself in the killer’s crosshairs. After all, the three of you are far more similar than you are different.”
A chill ran down Kasey’s spine. The thought of a serial killer hadn't entered her head, but now that Vida had mentioned it, she couldn't get rid of the nagging uncomfortable sensation that something was off.
A serial killer.
It was difficult to believe that both young women had been killed by the same person. When it had been just Beth, it was easy to believe that it had resulted from an argument with Brad. But the belligerent grease monkey had been consistent in denying his involvement in her death. Kasey wondered now if perhaps he had been telling the truth.
She made her way over to the morgue drawers. Flipping the latch, she pulled out the drawer housing Beth. Vida wheeled over a second examination table, and together Kasey and Vida lifted Beth onto it. Moments later, the two bodies were resting side-by-side and Kasey could see exactly what Vida was talking about. Both women were close to 6 feet tall, with brown eyes and dark hair. The similarities ran deeper still. Both young women had high cheekbones and slender noses. There were subtle differences, the shape of their ears and complexion of their skin, but one could certainly be forgiven for thinking the two were related. As Kasey ran through the comparison and added herself to the mix, she realized that Vida had a point.
“I see what you mean, Vida, but how do we tell if this is merely a coincidence or two victims bound together?” Kasey gestured at the women lying before her.
“That part is more difficult,” Vida answered. “I usually leave it to the detectives. Normally there will be a whole string of victims before anyone manages to put two and two together. New York City is a big place. It's rare for a killer to choose multiple victims located so close together.
“Either they don't think anyone will notice or there is something else behind their choice of targets. In any event, it's hard to know for sure until we learn more about both of them.” Vida pointed at Kasey. “In the meantime, you ought to be careful.”
“Ha ha ha,” Kasey replied, brushing Vida’s finger away. “Don’t worry I haven't been out looking for love or hitchhiking recently so I'm sure I'll be fine.”
“Were they, Kasey? Don’t be so dismissive. Stranger things have happened before.” He settled his gaze on her. “Do you think we should tell Bishop?”
“I think we should leave the detective work to her, Vida. If there was merit to our theory, I'm sure she would have said something already. She's attended both scenes, met the victims, and has a career full of experience as a homicide detective. Moreover, I'll bet she won't want to hear such an out-there proposition without some evidence to back it up. It always comes back to the evidence with Bishop.”
Vida's ears perked up and he looked at his watch. “Speaking of bets, Kasey, if I'm not mistaken, it's twenty-four hours since you made your last one with me. True to my word, I have not made one with anyone since, so I believe that means...”
Kasey cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, I see where this is going.”
“Lunch, Kasey, that's where this is going. So where are you taking me?” Vida asked, practically glowing at his victory.
“Fair is fair. Lunch is on me. What do you want to eat?”
“Well, you did tease me with that Stromboli’s pizza yesterday. I think I could go for one of those,” he replied.
“Sounds good to me, but you'll have to pick them up. I have a stack of
paperwork to get through here, and I need to get started sooner rather than later.” Kasey wandered back to the counter and grabbed her purse. Rummaging through it she found her wallet.
Opening her wallet, she drew out her credit card and handed it to Vida. “Take this, though. Get anything you want and a pepperoni pizza for me.”
Vida accepted the card. “You know, Kasey, one in sixteen adults in the USA had their ID stolen last year. You should really think carefully before handing over your credit card.”
“You worry too much. Besides, what are you going to do? Steal my ID and use my gym membership?” She looked him up and down. “I don't think so. Besides, if you did, I wouldn't have to go very far to report you. In fact, it might just be the shortest journey from workplace to lock-up in the history of the Fighting 9th.”
Vida pointed to the bruise still prominent on Kasey's face. “After seeing that and hearing about what you did to John Ainsley, I wouldn't dream of it. My spirit of self-preservation is far too great.”
Vida sauntered out the door, laughing.
As soon as Vida disappeared, Kasey sprang into action. She had no intention of doing her paperwork, but she did need a few minutes of unsupervised time on Vida’s computer. Kasey had intentionally used the word ‘bet’ in the hope he would remember their earlier gamble. Fortunately, Vida’s love of pizza had caused him to miss the gambit.
Kasey walked over to the door leading to Vida’s adjoining office. She tested the handle. It was unlocked, and she entered the small office. Stepping around the desk she slid into Vida’s office chair and moved the mouse back and forth. The computer whirred to life, but Kasey was confronted with a login screen bearing the NYPD’s crest.
“Darn it,” Kasey exclaimed as she began rummaging around the desk for any indication of his password.
She checked the back of the monitor, and scanned the desk for post-it notes. No luck there. Rummaging through the desk turned up little of use. As she scanned the office, her eyes locked on a copy of General Anatomy, the core textbook familiar to any student of Forensic Medicine. Kasey’s own copy had been used to death while she was at college. Vida’s, on the other hand, was in surprisingly good condition.