Page 27 of The Shadow Friends

“When I examined her at the scene, I thought it was consistent with when she left work Friday night.” Wass looked at Jo. “Around ten thirty p.m., you said?”

“That’s when she clocked out,” said Jo. “It would’ve been nice to have CCTV footage, but the hotel’s security system glitched out that evening, so we don’t know what happened after she walked out of the building. We’re trying to track down everyone she had contact with that night. Based on the restaurant receipts, we know which customers she waited on in the dining room. We also know that at ten fifteen, she delivered a room service meal to a guest on the second floor. And no, we don’t consider that guest a suspect. She was a seventy-two-year-old woman.”

“This is a bizarre choice for a weapon,” said Alfond.

“Ah yes, the weapon.” Wass regarded the handle protruding from Karen O’Brien’s eye. “Appears to be stainless steel, quite sleek. No markings except for this circle-and-dot design engraved on the handle. It looks like it was a single thrust, without any hesitation.”

“Not your usual knife,” said Alfond.

“It’s not a knife,” said Jo. “It’s a stiletto.”

Alfond snorted. “You’re an expert on this, are you?”

“Let’s remove it and find out,” said Wass. He grasped the handle and pulled. The weapon slid free, emerging with a hiss of steel gliding against bone. Beneath a smear of blood and brain matter, the blade gleamed, bright as silver. Wass wiped it clean and laid it on an instrument tray. “Jo’s correct,” he said. “This is indeed a stiletto, measuring . . .” He reached for a ruler. “Thirty-six centimeters overall. Stainless steel guard, blade, and grip. No outstanding features except for this circle and dot on the handle. Very sleek and modern. I’d almost describe it as elegant. If that doesn’t sound too macabre.”

“I’m surprised he left it behind,” said Alfond. “Maybe he was in a rush.”

“He took the time to wipe off any fingerprints,” said Wass.

“Maybe he left it behind for a reason,” said Jo.

Alfond shot her a skeptical look. “What reason?”

“A calling card? A message?”

“And this message would be?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a thought.”

“The blade length is sixteen centimeters,” said Wass. “Blade thickness at the hilt is two centimeters, tapering to a fine point.”

“Designed to penetrate, not cut,” said Jo. “A thrusting weapon.”

Wass looked up at her in surprise. “Been doing your research, Jo?”

“It just happened to come up in conversation.”

“Interesting conversations you have,” said Wass.

Jo thought about Ingrid’s stunned expression when they’d discovered the body. At the time, Jo had assumed Ingrid was reacting to the gruesome nature of the wound. Now she wondered if it was the weapon itself that had so shocked Ingrid. Had she seen one before?

Dr. Wass reached for a knife and began to cut.

Jo had gutted and field-dressed deer with her brother Finn, had sliced them open and wrenched out their still-warm organs, so what she saw next should not have shaken her, yet it did. Karen O’Brien was a stranger to her. Jo had never heard her voice, never seen the woman smile, but recorded on Karen’s skin were clues to a life: the pregnancy stretch marks on her abdomen. The scar left by knee surgery. The wrinkles and age spots from too many years of baking under the sun. The heart might be the symbol of one’s soul, but the skin was where the years left their mark.

“Anything else you can tell me about her?” said Wass as he snapped apart the ribs to free up the breastbone.

“We contacted her daughter in Vermont,” said Alfond. “Sounds like they weren’t on good terms. Barely speaking to each other.”

“That’s sad,” said Wass.

“Daughter says Mom went off the rails a few years ago, politically. The last time they got together, they had a big fight about the election, vaccinations, you name it. Daughter cut off communication.”

“Karen wasn’t on good terms with her two housemates either,” said Jo. “But I’m not aware of anyone who disliked her enough to kill her.” She looked at the weapon on the specimen tray. “And to do it that way?”

“Doesn’t look like your typical crime of passion,” said Wass as he lifted off the freed-up shield of breastbone and ribs to expose the heart and lungs. “No other signs of violence, no other wounds.” Wass looked across the table at Jo. “This kill was quick and efficient.”

“By someone who’s probably done it before,” Jo said softly.