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  Holly Weinens’ rich southern accent came on the line. “Detective, the girl had some deep lacerations. One was just above her lower back, and the other was on her right rib cage.”

  “Morgan, the knife wounds look similar to the other cases we’re working on…that’s why I called you on this.”

  “Any weapons found at the scene?” Patrick asked.

  “None, so far…” Sergeant Weinens intervened, her voice drifting off.

  “So, this girl is possibly bleeding to death and propels herself from some roof?”

  “Parking garage, sir…attached to apartment complex,” Weinens corrected him.

  “Morgan, looks like someone threw her off. I have the County Medical Examiner doing the autopsy now. Depending on what she finds…may want you to be there, too.”

  Still chasing this lead. Patrick rolled his eyes. He ignored his supervisor as he posed a question to the female supervisor.

  “Sergeant Weinens, what time was she discovered?”

  “My patrol corporal said just after six o’clock this morning.”

  Obvious commuting hours. “What do we know about the girl?”

  Commander Cromartie was back on point. “Her name is Azure Sutaki. She worked at the local casino as an entertainment consultant.”

  Simple translation…a high-price call girl. “Sir, maybe get with the manager over there and check out if her services were needed by outside sources.”

  “Agreed. I’ll send some people to get witness statements. If I hear anything from the M.E.’s office, I’ll give you a ring.”

  “Great, boss. Sergeant Weinens, keep me posted if you come across any more information on the dead girl.”

  “Sure thing, Detective.”

  Cromartie thanked the patrol supervisor, ending her portion of the call. “Morgan, you see Brandon Thornley yet?”

  “I’m waiting here now. The good director even set me up with an escort.”

  Cromartie laughed. “You some kind of important person?”

  “It would appear so.”

  “Well, like I said before—”

  “I know, boss…kid gloves.”

  “Morgan, I got a call on the desk line. I’ll check in with you later.”

  Thanks for warning me. “10-4, sir.”

  Patrick flipped the phone closed. He waited for several more minutes before Monty York whistled in his direction. “I see they sent the super-duper sleuth on this one.” Monty grinned.

  He had known Monty since Patrick was naïve rookie, and the elder officer had taken an interest with his interrogation techniques. Patrick was saddened when the man left the department for greener pastures. The man was straight forward about everything.

  “How the hell are you, old man?” Patrick grasped the man’s hand in a fierce handshake.

  “Can’t complain, son.”

  “How is the gig with Thornley?” Patrick smiled.

  The burly man ran a hand over his shaved head. “Pat, this organization has some good people. Brandon Thornley treats us like family.”

  All families all have secrets. Patrick folded his arms. “Monty, is the guy a straight shooter?” He won’t lie to me.

  “Always has been with me. The man is a little odd, but who the hell isn’t now-a-days?” Monty grinned.

  True. Patrick glanced at his watch. “Well, lead the way. I just have a few questions for him…nothing too major.”

  Monty winked. “It’s not like he killed anyone, right?”

  Not that you know of. “Nothing like that.”

  “Onward then, youngster,” Monty jested, leading him through the hallway and to the office of Langston Security Solution’s Security Director.

  * * *

  Brandon Thornley’s nerves were on edge. Between cutting himself while shaving and spilling his morning latte on his new shirt, the day so far had been one to forget. The call from Detective Patrick Morgan could have been the determining factor for a majority of the extra stress. Brandon had spent a good part of the morning going over the reasons why the man would need to speak with him. The bodies are buried deep enough. That can’t be it. He had been very careful to avoid detection when he was anywhere near the church. Maybe all of his preparation for each sacred kill was flawed. Maybe someone did see me.

  Brandon reached into his desk and picked up the hand mirror. The makeup had done substantial in masking the scratches, but they were still going to be visible, especially for a seasoned investigator. Good thing he had a second change of clothes at the office, and more importantly, his wife didn’t question his explanation about not coming home last night.

  He lifted up the mirror and grimaced. Time for another touch up. I really should have let the bitch go. Brandon knew from experience that his DNA would be found underneath the woman’s fingernails, but he also knew his blood work hadn’t been taken for several years, and this gave him a slight hope he would stay undiscovered.

  Brandon opened a side drawer and removed the bottle of flesh-colored makeup. He dabbed at the right side of his face until the colors meshed and the marks were almost unnoticeable. He raised his head in time to see the blurred frame of Monty York and what he presumed to be Detective Patrick Morgan at the entrance to his office. Brandon shoved the mirror and makeup into the drawer and slammed it shut. He straightened out his suit coat, buttoning it up to hide the stained shirt.

  A forceful knock came from the front door. “Sir, your appointment is here.”

  Brandon’s hands were shaking. Get a grip, or this could be it. He took a few deep breaths. “Monty, come in.”

  Monty was accompanied by the slender but well built Patrick Morgan. The man was wearing an inexpensive blue blazer and a pair of dark pants in the same price range as the blazer. Not exactly a power suit for investigations.

  Brandon stood and offered an outstretched hand in the man’s direction. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Detective. Monty, would you excuse us?”

  “Yes, boss. If you need me, I’ll be at the security desk.”

  Patrick waited for his long-time friend to exit before he addressed the security mogul. He smiled in almost an apologetic fashion. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy day. I promise this won’t take long.”

  Brandon flashed a smile. “You know, when I was in law enforcement, and I used the word promise in regards to someone’s time, it was always longer and more tedious than both of us expected.”

  “This is pretty simple and straight forward stuff. Just need to clarify some things.” Patrick smiled, removing his notebook.

  Nothing is ever simple and straight forward. “Ask away.”

  “Sir, I’m investigating the murder of Jamie Brooks. The body was found on the third floor of United Ministries. I think the property belongs to you now?”

  It does. Brandon nodded. “Yes, my father left it to me after he passed.”

  Patrick jotted down some notes. “Do you know Jamie Brooks?”

  “Can’t say the name is familiar to me.” Very interesting.

  “How much time do you spend time on the property, sir?” Patrick looked up from his notes.

  Brandon leaned back. More than you could imagine. “Detective, I drive by there a few times a week. The place is a nightmare…and I’ve been talking to a contractor about demolition.”

  “So, would you say there’s a significant amount time spent there?” The officer cocked his head.

  Brandon tapped his fingers on the desk. “Just enough to make sure the graveyard isn’t being vandalized by the local misfits.” Somebody saw the car.

  “Graveyard?” Patrick asked.

  He can’t think I’m that stupid. “Yes, my father is buried there. Like I said, I would prefer not to have it vandalized by undesirables.”

  The serious look on Patrick’s face started to fade. “We do have a few of those. Sir, there was a witness who saw your Mercedes on the property the night Jamie Brook’s body was discovered.”

  Brandon stopped the tapping. “So, natural
ly, I’m the first one you need to speak with.”

  Patrick leaned forward in the chair. “Naturally.”

  Brandon smiled. “Well, ask away, Mr. Morgan.”

  Patrick turned to a blank page in his notebook. “Mr. Thornley, have you seen anyone on your property that shouldn’t be there?”

  Brandon shook his head. “Not that I recall. I’m usually the only person who’s brave enough to wander through that mess.”

  Patrick scribbled on the pad. “I know it’s your property and everything, but can you tell me what you were doing there the other night at that late of hour?”

  Burying a body. “Of course. Every Christmas, Dad and I had a tradition to put holiday wreaths at the headstone of each person in the graveyard. I still do that…and the night in question was when I was carrying on his legacy.”

  Patrick looked up. “That’s admirable.”

  Brandon folded his arms. “Tell me, Detective…don’t you have family traditions?”

  Patrick fidgeted in his chair. “Me? I’m not a big Christmas guy and all…my daughter and wife love it, though…so I go along for them.”

  Very interesting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Brandon said.

  Patrick flipped the notebook closed. “Sir, I think you have given me everything I need. It all makes sense to me. I told you this would be quick.” He reached across the table, waiting for a return handshake.

  Fucking hands are still shaking. Brandon reached at his belt for his cell phone. “I have to take this, Detective, if you would excuse me.”

  Patrick withdrew his hand. “No problem. I’ll let myself out. Thanks for your time. If I have any more questions…I’ll be in touch.”

  How did he know the Mercedes was mine? Brandon smiled. “Anything you need…just let me know.” He returned to his pretend phone call.

  The detective waved as he left the office. “Thanks, I will.”

  Brandon waited for the door to close before he threw the cell phone on the desk. Fucker left in a hurry. I wonder why? He hadn’t noticed the small beads of sweat dripping down his neck, until he realized the water droplets were landing on the collar of his shirt. He wiped at them, but then was enlightened by something else. His vehicle had dealership tags, and the only person who knew it belonged to him was Graneth Kensington. The thought of the Englishman providing information about him to the local authorities wasn’t sitting well with him at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Patrick Morgan had been summoned by Commander Cromartie to meet him at the Harris County Memorial Hospital. Patrick still had the meeting with Brandon Thornley on his mind and thought it was strange how it appeared the man had been wearing makeup. Rich people are odd. Patrick passed through the gates of HCMH, recalling the local paper printing a recent story on the facility. The medical care was touted to be the finest in the Midwest, and the influx of out-of-state patients was an indicator of that fact. The multiple structures were designed with futuristic overtones, and many people thought the facility looked like something out of a science fiction movie.

  Patrick had only been here a few times, but his eyes were always fixated to the man-made lake surrounding the property. In the summer months, the lake’s water was so clear, people would just sit at the bank, watching the fish swim like there was no tomorrow. Patrick focused his attention to the slate-colored building behind the main hospital. This was a separate structure built especially for the morgue and its examination laboratory.

  According to Commander Cromartie, the local medical examiner had completed the autopsy on Azure Sutaki, and the findings were quite revealing. He pulled the unmarked in a spot designated for emergency vehicles. Patrick noticed his supervisor was already parked. He was standing a few feet from the loading dock and was engaged in conversation with an attractive, slender blonde. She appeared to be in her late thirties, and even though the temperatures were near freezing, she was dressed in just a white turtleneck and black pants. Braver than me. Patrick stepped out to meet the two.

  Cromartie nodded as he approached. “Morgan, this is Dr. Abbey Krieger. She’s the medical examiner assigned to Azure Sutaki and Jamie Brooks.”

  Dr. Krieger smiled at Patrick as she rubbed her hands together. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s step inside. Your latest victim has a very interesting story to tell us.”

  Patrick and Cromartie followed her through the dock door and down into a service elevator. The strong scent of pine oil filled the spacious conveyance. They stepped out into a waiting room, which was furnished with a large leather couch and matching chairs; a computer workstation; and, to top it off, a full-size kitchen. Better than my first apartment. Patrick was unaware he had made a face, but Dr. Krieger noticed and smiled.

  She explained. “Detective, this is designed to ease the families in their time of grief. Unlike most hospitals, and the unfriendly surroundings of a cold and lifeless room, we have found this to be more soothing.”

  Hmm. Death and soothing in the same sentence. “All you need is a big screen T.V.”

  “Touché, Detective, touché.” Dr. Krieger chuckled.

  Cromartie wasn’t as amused. He glared in his direction but kept his comments to himself.

  Dr. Krieger led them through a long corridor, stopping at two sets of double doors. She removed a magnetic card from her front pocket and swiped it through a card reader just to the right of the entrance.

  Pretty high tech for the dead. Patrick glanced up, looking for a surveillance camera. The locking system disengaged, and soon, the three were inside. Patrick made a whistling sound. Definitely sci-fi attributes here. The room was encased in a silver sheen. Even the floor appeared to be covered with it.

  A medium-sized computer work station was in one corner of the room. On the wall directly above it hung three framed documents; one Patrick made out with genuine interest. University of Iowa…very prestigious. Patrick gawked at the accompaniment of tools of her trade that hung from various hooks. One in particular really caught his attention.

  Dr. Krieger noticed him staring, as she enlightened him. “Bone saw, Detective…you ever see one before?”

  “No.” Patrick re-focused his attention to the large picture-window-sized mirror directly across from the entrance.

  Dr. Krieger handed them each a white gown. Before he had an opportunity to ask about it, she interjected. “Detectives, stainless steel makes the area easy to sterilize.”

  Cromartie voiced what Patrick had been thinking. “Why is that necessary?”

  Dr. Krieger raised a brow. “With the current flu, and its killing potential, this room limits the spread of the disease.”

  Good enough answer as any. Patrick slipped on the gown, then pointed to the mirror. “Why a two-way mirror?”

  Dr. Krieger tied her gown. “Sometimes, we have students assist with examinations. The mirror is used by their fellow physicians to watch them and review their skills.”

  Patrick nodded. “A whole new meaning to Big Brother is watching.”

  “Just for learning, Detective. Nothing so ominous as that.” Dr. Krieger walked over and pushed a button on the wall. A door slid open, leading to the examination room. “This way.”

  Patrick and Cromartie stepped through the opening. The door closed behind them.

  This interior was similar to the room they had just left, except along with the two medical carts and matching silver slabs. The far wall housed fifty refrigeration units. The cubicles, reserved for the dead, were stacked five high and ten across. Patrick had never seen this many units before and figured all of New Haven’s deceased probably came here.

  Dr. Krieger cleared her throat. “Detective Morgan, like I was explaining to the Commander here…I was assigned the Jamie Brooks case, and now, our latest victim, Azure Sutaki.” She walked over and pulled open one of the refrigeration units.

  Patrick felt a sudden change in the room temperature. This caused cold chills to fill his body.

  The medical examiner grinned. “The units are kept at a lo
wer temp, so when opened, they lower the core of the room.”

  Patrick shivered. “Great to know, Doc.”

  “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll have Ms. Sutaki on the table.”

  Dr. Krieger pulled a cart from the unit all the way out. She removed a remote from her pocket and pushed one of the buttons. A loud grinding sound came from one of the ceiling panels, and within thirty seconds, an opening had replaced the tile. She pushed another button, and a large mechanical crane lowered to the center of the room. There were several metal clips extending from it. Dr. Krieger reached out and grabbed one of the clips. She pulled on it, as the clip loosened from the device. An elongated black covered wire exposed itself as the medical examiner yanked on it, making it long enough to reach one of the rings on the metal cart. She repeated the process two more times, until all the wires were attached to the corresponding rings. When the task was completed, she pressed another button on the remote. The motor hummed as the cart was lifted into the air and hovered above the metal slate table. Dr. Krieger guided the cart with her hand, until she was satisfied it would center with perfection. One more push of a button lowered the cold slab onto the table. She undid the hooks and pushed the crane away from the table.

  “Gather round. I hope you guys don’t have weak stomachs,” she said.

  Patrick took one side of the table as Cromartie went to the other. Dr. Krieger removed the thin white covering from the upper body of Azure Sutaki’s corpse. Most of the flesh on the woman’s face had been scraped off, and only fragments of her once-perfect teeth still remained in place. Her neck was grossly off centered, and a bone had pierced through, just below her throat. Note to self: never jump from a building, Patrick thought.

  Cromartie flinched and let out a cough.

  The medical examiner noticed his reaction. “Commander, you okay to continue?”

  “Yes, go ahead, Doctor.”

  She pointed to the woman’s neck. “Gentlemen, the fall produced several broken bones; only this one here would have been fatal upon impact.”

  Patrick scratched at his head. “Just that one?”