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“It’s all right,” Bradford murmured to Alina. “Just take some deep breaths. The last thing I want is for you to feel lightheaded. Lot of people don’t react so well to the sight of a dead body.”
Consider her one of those people. She already felt lightheaded. There was an odd scent in the air. One that burned her nose.
“This is Dr. Edward Hatch.” Joyce motioned to the man who stood beside an exam table. “He’s a forensic pathologist who will be completing the autopsies.” She touched his shoulder. “I need her to see their faces.”
The light gleamed off Edward’s balding head. Round glasses perched on his nose. He wore a white lab coat and gloves. His gloved hands reached for the first subject.
“I only saw the face of one man,” Alina rushed to say. “I already told you that it was—”
The redhead’s face was revealed.
Alina stepped back. Her elbow bumped into Bradford.
His hands closed over her shoulders. “It’s all right.”
The redhead’s skin had a waxy look. His eyes were closed, and he—he appeared so young. “That’s one of them. He…” She swallowed. “He said if I was good, then I might be able to go home. The other man—he threatened me.” Her hand rose to her cheek. “Said he was going to slice my face. This one was…nicer.” That sounded so strange to say. But it was true. He was nicer than the man who wanted to cut my face open. Alina pulled her gaze from the dead man.
She found Joyce staring straight at her.
“Seeing him reminded you of a few things?” Joyce inquired.
Alina knew Joyce had planned this scene. Her chin lifted. “Yes.” Not that she’d forgotten. How could she? But last night, everything had been on fire. Or at least, that was how Alina had felt. Too much fear. Too much horror.
“Your statements last night were very brief. You told us you were held in a closet. You didn’t mention that someone threatened to cut you.” Joyce never took her stare off Alina. “Was Midas aware of the fact that one of these men wanted to use a knife on you?”
Her breath stuttered out as she looked at the dead man. “Can you cover him up now?”
“You didn’t answer—”
“Alina Bellamy is cooperating with you,” Bradford cut in. His tone was smooth and easy but brooked no argument. “She identified the first man. Shall we move to the second?”
Joyce’s lips thinned, but she motioned to Edward.
The forensic pathologist covered up the redheaded man. Alina sucked in a breath, but the breath didn’t help. The room was too cold. And the smell? Too antiseptic. Too harsh. “I never saw the second man. He was tall.” She remembered him standing in the closet doorway. “About six one. Lean but muscled.”
Edward had moved toward a second exam table.
“He was…he was the one who hit me.” She didn’t touch her bruised jaw. Mostly because her hands had twisted in front of her.
“That does make sense,” Joyce allowed.
How did that make sense?
The second body was revealed.
Young, just like the other man. Early twenties? Dark, shaggy hair. That waxy-looking skin tone that came from death. And—
She flinched.
“He’s got a broken jaw. That’s why it looks that way. Bruised and distorted. I guess Midas didn’t like that the man had hit you? So he hit him back.”
Alina couldn’t look away from the body. She recalled what Midas had told her as he got her out of that terrible closet. You already have a bruise. He’d looked at her jaw. His face had been angry. So hard. Be assured, the one I gave that SOB is a hell of a lot worse. Pretty sure I broke the bastard’s jaw.
“Midas packs quite a punch, doesn’t he?” Joyce mused.
Chapter Twelve
“What’s it like?” Calvin asked him.
