by S. C. Stokes
By now, the head ME would have long since mastered and memorized its contents. The other books on the shelf were all post-graduate level. General Anatomy stood alone in its simple content. Kasey grabbed the manual and flipped it open. Eagerly, she scanned the front page. Nothing. She flipped to the back.
Neatly printed above the bar code in black pen was a series of twelve letters and numbers. The casual observer might have believed it a part of the bar code itself. Kasey knew better.
Kasey eagerly punched the twelve digits into the box on the screen and pressed enter. The computer whirred to life.
She scanned the desktop and found the shortcut to the program she was looking for, then double clicked it. Once it loaded, she typed in the plate she had seen in her earlier vision. E-Z-Y-8-0-5-5. The vanity plate was easily remembered. It spelled out ‘easy boss.’ She hit enter.
The computer hummed and Kasey held her breath. After only a few moments, a box flashed open on the screen.
EZY 8055
Registered to: Lincoln Strode
Address: 65 Hudson Road Bellerose, New York.
“Well, well, well,” Kasey muttered. “I’ll be seeing you tonight, Mr Strode.”
She shut down the program and logged off the computer. Ensuring Vida’s copy of General Anatomy was back where she found it, she slipped back into the morgue just in time to see Vida making his way into the room. He was weighed down by a pair of large pizzas from Stromboli’s.
He handed Kasey the top box and her credit card. “Your card, milady. The Khatri foundation appreciates your most generous donation. You are an inspiration to Medical Examiners everywhere.”
Kasey shot him a look. “I live to serve, Vida. Eat your pizza before I take it.”
They discussed the case while they devoured the delicious pizzas, hypothesizing over possible links between the two women. Kasey’s participation in the conversation was only half-hearted though. Her thoughts kept reverting to her vivid vision of being run down by the silver sedan. Each time, the same image surged to the front of her mind…
I’m coming for you, Lincoln Strode.
Chapter Nine
Kasey wanted answers. It was almost six pm. She'd been waiting impatiently in her car for an hour. She still hadn’t seen a sign of Strode.
Kasey preferred the subway, parking in New York was a nightmare. Tonight, she was in a hurry though, her car was the quickest way to Hudson Road and she was in no mood to wait.
The streetlights around her came on, Number 65 Hudson Road remained dark. It was a quaint little two-story suburban home. White with green shutters and a chimney, it looked every part like a child's dollhouse. The image was only reinforced by the two immense homes that neighbored it. There was no car in the driveway and not a single light on inside the home. Perhaps he isn't home yet. Or maybe he just ditched the car and is laying low.
Kasey’s fingers drummed ceaselessly on the steering wheel, the memory of her vision still playing in her mind.
“What makes a person do something like that?” she asked herself as she waited. What had Brandy done to earn the killer’s attention.
Sitting outside of Lincoln Strode’s home, Kasey wasn't sure what she had expected to find. Perhaps the silver sedan with a battered hood, or perhaps Lincoln standing in his driveway hosing away evidence as he cleaned his car. She found none of those.
Instead, the sleepy little suburb of Bellerose was quiet. Families were just sitting down to dinner. Kasey considered breaking into the home but thought better of it. After her misfortune at Brad's, she really couldn't risk any more attention at work…or from the Arcane Council. The suited grunts that served the ADI had been more than clear on that front. Further use of magic against normals would be met with harsh punishment.
Unsure of how to proceed, Kasey opted for the direct approach. She fished a NYPD windbreaker off her back seat and slipped into it. Of course, she had no ID to go with it, since she wasn't technically a part of the NYPD. Unwilling to let such a minute detail get in her way, she borrowed a trick from the ADI's repertoire.
She drew her wallet, looked at her license, and whispered the spell, albeit in her own tongue. “Cuddio.”
The card morphed from her New York State issues license into an NYPD ID badge. The badge number wouldn't pass muster, but at a glance the ID would fool most casual observers. It wasn’t a true transformation, simply an illusion. One that would only last for an hour at best.
It will have to do.
She slid out of the car and approached the house, making her way up the sidewalk to the front door. It was a cool September evening and she was grateful for the windbreaker. Approaching the green front door, she pulled the windbreaker even tighter around her. Kasey rapped three times on the front door and waited. There was no response.
She knocked again, louder this time. “Mr Strode, it's the NYPD. We have a few questions we would like you to answer.”
She waited. Still no answer came from within the home.
It's possible he's not even home.
Having come so far, Kasey wasn't willing to leave empty-handed.
“If I can only get a look inside.” She could not afford another incident like Brad, but the bodies were beginning to stack up and she couldn’t ignore the nagging sensation in her stomach.
Something isn’t right. She crossed the lawn in front of a small garden and made her way down the driveway toward the backyard and garage.
She tried to sneak a glance in the window, but all the curtains were drawn. Kasey hopped over the fence, landing lightly in the backyard, there was still no signs of life anywhere. She approached the back door. Without any light, it was difficult to see inside the home. She gingerly tested the back door. It was open.
What would Bishop think?
She was sure Bishop would be mortified if she'd known the truth of what happened to Brad. Bishop was by the book; she got a man with evidence and the rule of law. What Kasey was doing crossed that line, and she knew it, but she forced the thought from her mind.
I'm only trying to catch a killer.
Lincoln Strode had already killed one woman that she knew of. From looking at his entry in the licensing database, Kasey was forced to admit that perhaps Vida was right. At 6'6, Lincoln Strode would have been more than capable of inflicting the wounds she had witnessed at Beth's autopsy.
Brandy and Beth both bore a striking resemblance to her, and her visions only strengthened the connection Kasey felt with them. If a serial killer were at work, then Kasey certainly fit his growing profile. Try as she might to dismiss Vida’s words, she was beginning to feel threatened. She needed to solve the case. Otherwise, she might be next.
Trusting her instincts and her extensive knowledge of self-defense, Kasey eased open the back door and entered the home.
She found herself in the kitchen. It was dark and dishes were piled in the sink. A fly buzzed around her face, and she swatted at it. A plate of leftovers sat half-eaten on the kitchen countertop. Slowly the realization dawned on her. There was the possibility that even now the killer was loitering inside the suburban home.
Kasey took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but gagged, a rancid stench filled the home.
Kasey held her breath and moved past the kitchen and into a hall leading toward the front door. On her left, a staircase ran up to a second floor. On her right, a doorway led through to a living room. Approaching the front door, Kasey poked her head around the banister and looked upstairs. The second floor was completely dark. She opted to explore the living room instead.
She rounded the corner and then stopped abruptly. There on the floor before her lay Lincoln Strode… Or what was left of him.
Kasey recognized him from his driver’s license photo. Fortunately for Kasey, his face was one of the few parts of him left intact. Lincoln looked like he'd gone three rounds with a rampaging black bear. A large gash had been torn in his midsection, while a host of other cuts and bruises covered his body.
“Gee,
Bishop is going to love you,” Kasey muttered. “She loves a good mystery.”
The thing that perplexed Kasey the most was the age of the body lying before her. Without an autopsy, it would be difficult to determine the exact time of death, but the body was exhibiting all the signs of a corpse that had been in its current state for some time, likely days. The first signs of decay were evident and accounted for the stench Kasey had been fighting since she walked in the door.
She fought the urge to throw up.
“If this is Lincoln Strode, who was driving his car this morning?” She glanced at the corpse. “You're in no condition to drive, big fella.”
With a grimace, she stepped over the body and into the living room. The room itself showed no signs of a struggle. Neither was there any indication that the home had been burgled. If Lincoln had died in a home invasion gone wrong, Kasey would have expected to see the drawers and bookshelves ransacked as the burglars hunted for items of value. Instead, everything remained in its proper place, a little disheveled and untidy perhaps, but certainly not ransacked.
A pile of paperwork on the coffee table drew Kasey's attention. More than two dozen manila folders sat neatly stacked atop each other. In the slovenly hovel, the well-ordered pile of folders stood out. Kasey hurried over, picked up the first, and slid out the contents.
A picture of Beth Morrison stared back at her. The picture had a large red cross drawn over it. Also inside the folder were dozens of documents profiling Beth and her schedule. It detailed her shifts at a local diner, the yoga class she attended each Thursday, and information about her boyfriend, Brad Tesco.
Kasey dropped the folder and grabbed the next one. Fearing what she would find, she flipped it open. As expected, it contained the image of Brandy Cahill. This image too had been crossed out. The photo featured Brandy running. In the folder were several maps of New York City. Each map had a route traced in red marker. Presumably the routes Brandy favored on her runs.
Kasey skimmed through the other notes in the file. Brandy wasn't a New York City native. According to the file, she had recently moved to New York from the West Coast to study at NYU. She was aspiring to be a lawyer, a dream that would go unrealized in the wake of the morning hit-and-run.
Kasey drew the next folder. This time it showed a young woman at a bar pouring drinks. Unlike the first two, this one bore no red marker. She is still alive. If the killer were working in order, she would be next. Underneath the photo was scrawled the name Trudie Sears.
According to the notes, Trudie worked as a bartender at The Drift, a popular bar in Brooklyn. The bar was only an hour away and Trudie would soon be starting work.
Whoever was hunting these young women could be on their way right now. I need to warn Trudie, and I need to come clean to Bishop. I need to show her these folders.
Each folder represented a potential target that had been surveilled by the killer. Each and every one of these women were at risk. Kasey couldn't protect them on her own. For that, she would need the NYPD's resources, and they would certainly need this information to solve the case.
She would have to manufacture a reason for being inside Lincoln's house. It would be easy enough to produce some clues that led her here, knowing what she knew now and filling in the blanks from her vision of the hit-and-run. Doubtless a missing person report had been filed for Lincoln. If there were enough dots to join, hopefully Bishop wouldn't delve too deep into Kasey's trail. Particularly when Kasey needed her focused on saving the lives of these young women.
Images of Beth and Brandy lying side by side on the morgue’s cold steel table filled her mind.
I don't want to see anyone else join them.
Kasey picked up the pile of folders and started for the door. She halted, heart leaping into her throat.
Standing in the doorway was a towering beast. Kasey's eyes inched up the beast's body. She was close to six feet tall, but the beast in the doorway stood head and shoulders above her.
As her gaze traveled upward, the beast’s long hind legs joined a narrow waist. The beast's torso widened considerably, and it was immensely muscular. The golden fur of the beast did little to conceal its tremendous strength. The beast’s arms, braced against each side of the doorway, seemed liable to tear through the fragile timbers. Atop its broad shoulders rested a wolf's head.
The beast's mouth opened and a low growl emanated from deep within. Two wicked rows of teeth lined the beast’s jaw. As Kasey watched, a glob of saliva rolled off the end of a razor-sharp tooth and dropped to the floor.
But most harrowing of all were the eyes. They were dark red spheres that seemed to bore straight into Kasey's soul, savage and cunning at it watched its prey—her.
She glanced around, looking for an escape, but the beast barred the only way out. It had trapped her.
Her feet felt like concrete, while her heart raced a million miles an hour. Suddenly, the golden-brown hair she had found at the scene of Beth's murder made sense. The realization cut through her like a knife. If the beast was capable of doing that to Beth, one wrong move would see Kasey join her in the morgue.
It was moments like this that made her wish she'd carried a gun. She'd considered it when she had begun working for the NYPD, but she had always known if push came to shove she had both her martial arts and her magic to back her up.
Unfortunately, with the visit from the Arcane Council, Kasey worried about exercising her gifts. Not while she had any other choice remaining. Werewolves were a part of the magical community, but Kasey had no idea if that would make a difference to the Council.
The beast growled and launched itself into the room.
Kasey willed her legs to move. Adrenaline kicked in as she searched for a weapon. Glancing from the charging beast to the folders in her hands, she turned and hurled the pile of manila folders at the beast. Paper and folders flew everywhere. The beast lunged. Its right claw tore through the air. She managed to duck under the blow, then punched the beast in what had to be its ribs.
The beast growled and lashed out with its other arm. The backhanded blow knocked Kasey off her feet and onto the floor. As the beast crossed the room, Kasey struggled to her feet. She ripped a picture off the wall and hurled it at the beast. The giant wolf swatted it to the floor. The picture shattered, sending glass and splinters in every direction.
Kasey grabbed a floor lamp from beside the sofa, yanking the plug from the wall. She smashed the head against the floor, busting the bulb, and brandished the makeshift spear toward the beast.
The beast slowed its approach, eying the weapon.
Kasey took heart. “Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Take another step and I'll put this clean through you.”
The beast cocked its head as if it understood the foolhardy threat. Then it opened its maw and howled in fury, the bellow shaking the house.
Well, that will get the neighbors going. All I need to do is survive.
She glanced at the terrifying beast before her. Easier said than done.
The beast lunged forward. Kasey thrusted the lamp spear at its torso. The blow caught the beast in the shoulder and it recoiled. The beast staggered momentarily but with an angry grunt it resumed its advance. Kasey drew back and thrust again, this time toward what she assumed would be the beast’s heart. The wolf caught the weapon in one large clawed fist and stopped it dead. Its other hand reached further down the lamp, then the beast yanked on the makeshift weapon.
Kasey jerked forward, her feet slipping from under her.
Oh crap.
Leaning in, Kasey shoved hard on the lamp rod as she let it go.
The wolf toppled backward, striking the living room floor, taking the lamp with it. Kasey dashed for the front door, leaping over the wolf.
It reached up with one clawed fist and caught her foot. She slammed to the ground, driving the air from her lungs.
As Kasey struggled to catch her breath, the beast rolled over, and rose to its feet. The beast loomed over her. Its open mouth
seemed distorted into an almost macabre smile.
The beast raised a clawed fist. Kasey realized how Strode had been killed, only feet from where she now lay. Her gaze played slowly over each razor-sharp claw.
Desperate and alone, Kasey drew on the one hope she had left. Her magic. Screw the Arcane Council.
She started to conjure a fireball.
A knock at the front door interrupted her incantation. The beast's head snapped around as it looked out the front window.
Kasey scowled, uncertain what to do. The beast’s eyes darted around as it seemed to assess its options. Clearly, it had not planned on being discovered, and the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.
In one sweeping gesture, the beast caught Kasey by the windbreaker and lifted her into the air.
Kasey refocused her thoughts, seeking to slay the beast with an ethereal assault.
Then the wolf turned and hurled Kasey straight through the living room's large bay window.
Chapter Ten
Kasey’s world slowed to a crawl as she struck the window. Glass exploded outward as she smashed through the thin pane. Kasey winced as the glass sliced into her arms and face.
Pain shot through her body as she lost momentum and began to fall, landing heavily in the garden. The impact of the ground drove the air from her lungs.
The beast, where is it?
Kasey tried to stand but the garden’s foliage rubbed against her fresh wounds, intensifying her agony. Clutching her hand against her chest she fought to regain her breath.
“Ow.” She gritted her teeth against the pain of her sweat trickling into the myriad of cuts caused by the broken window.
The pain threatened to paralyze her, but Kasey wanted to place as much distance between herself and the wolf-creature as possible. Mustering the last of her energy Kasey rolled out of the garden and onto her back.