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Frankie
I enter the morgue, a smile plastered on my face despite the unpleasant surroundings. If we let the constant stream of death and brutality get to us, we’d be too emotionally wrecked to function. It’s a delicate balance, one I’ve learned to maintain over the years.
Christopher Montgomery, the medical examiner, looks up from his desk, his piercing blue eyes sparkling with delight as his lips curve into a welcoming grin. “Detective DeMarco, is that really you?”
I raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Who else would it be, Doc? You expecting someone else?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s just that smile. It’s a rare sight these days. Got a new love interest or something? The overnight guys mentioned you were in quite the mood earlier.”
I roll my eyes, knowing full well that by overnight guys, he means Nate. That lazy ass always gets under my skin. “You mean the same guys who showed up at the crime scene an hour after I was there while it was pouring rain, letting crucial evidence wash away with every freakin’ raindrop?” I can feel my anger bubbling over, and I pause, inhale the coffee and let it go. “I’ve slept and showered and now I’m better. Coffee?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Frankie,” he says, gratefully accepting the steaming cup. He takes a generous sip before setting it down on his desk and picking up his ever-present tablet. “I had a hunch you’d want to fast-track this latest case, so I’ve been here since the crack of dawn. We got an ID on the latest victim. Ryder Beaumont.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It took us days to identify the first two vics, so this is great. He has a record?”
“Yeah, but nothing major. Just a drunk and disorderly charge from a few years back.”
“Still, it’s a solid lead. Good work, Dr. Montgomery.” I jot down the name in my notebook, underlining it twice and scribbling background check, next to it. “Anything else I should know?”
Dr. Montgomery flashes me a grin that I recognize as his I’m about to geek out face. “Oh, I’m glad you asked, Detective. You’re gonna love this.”
I lean against his desk, bracing myself for the onslaught of medical jargon and all the gory details that are sure to follow. But that’s why I enjoy working with Dr. Montgomery. His enthusiasm for the science behind the madness is oddly comforting in a world filled with so much darkness.
“What do you got, Dr. Montgomery?”
“Frankie, call me Chris, please. Or I’ll start calling you Francesca.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say with a playful growl.
Dr. Montgomery’s teasing grin fades as he gets down to business. “Okay, so the perpetrator used a very sharp blade, likely a hunting or boning knife, to sever the penis in one clean slice. Could have even been a straight razor. It’s cleaner than I’ve ever seen, but a knife was definitely used to disembowel the poor guy. A very sharp knife.”
I jot that down, my pen scratching against the paper.
“There’s more,” Montgomery continues, his gloved finger gesturing to the man’s face on the screen. “The killer used an industrial-strength adhesive, likely epoxy or something similar, to seal the victim’s mouth shut. But the eyes were left untouched, though, which differs from the Donovan case last week.”
I tap my pen against my chin, my mind going a mile a minute with the information. “So, the glue is the same, but the kill method is different.”
“The glue is similar, but forensics is breaking it down, so nothing concrete yet.”
“Okay. Anything else I need to know?”
Dr. Montgomery shakes his head. “Not right now. I’ve put a rush on toxicology and DNA analysis. With any luck, we’ll find something to help identify this bastard.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Doc—err, Chris.” The name feels strange on my tongue, too informal. But if there’s anyone who deserves a bit of familiarity, it’s the man who spends his days elbow-deep in death and decay.
“I’ll have my full report on your desk by tomorrow morning,” he promises. “In the meantime, try to get some rest, Detective. You look like you could use it.”
I snort, shoving my notebook back into my jacket pocket. Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford, not with a twisted psychopath leaving a trail of bodies across my city. But I appreciate the sentiment.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Doc. Or when this freak is behind bars. Whichever comes first.”
The doors swing open with a resounding thud and Jay saunters in, looking more haggard than he did in the middle of the night. The shit-eating grin plastered on his face tells me he deliberately arrived late to dodge the gory details of the autopsy. Typical.
“Did you decide to sleep in on your first day in homicide, old man?” I jab, arching an eyebrow at him.
Jay’s eyes narrow into slits. “Watch it, kid. I’ll show you old man.” He raises a fist like a cartoon character itching for a fight. “So, what did I miss while you were playing teacher’s pet with the doc?”
I give him the Cliffs Notes version of my chat with the doctor as we exit the morgue. “You still not convinced it’s the same psycho behind all this?”
