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“What?” he asked.
She fished in her bag and pulled out latex gloves. She handed Tucker a pair.
“Right now, we’re our own CSI.”
He frowned. “CSI?”
“Forensics.”
“Sorry, a bit rusty.”
“S’okay.” She hoped. Barbara needed help with the case, not an added liability.
Tucker snapped on the gloves. They were too small, but they just about did the job. “So, this is how you found it?” he asked, looking around.
“Yessir. Although when we first arrived, that stove was still warm.”
The files were still stacked on the table next to the chair. Tucker walked over and picked one up. “Patient files?”
“Yeah. I thought he must have been reading them,” Barbara said.
But why stop partway through and kill himself? Now, in context, it seemed a little odd. She walked toward the stove and grabbed a poker. She crouched down, opened the door and prodded at the crumbly black wood. And then she saw it. A flash of something silver. She reached in and picked it up, blowing black ash off her fingers. A staple. She regarded it thoughtfully. “I don’t think he was reading the files.” She glanced back at Tucker. “I think he was burning them.”
She rose. Tucker flicked through a folder. Each had a name written on the front in marker and was filled with notes. Some were thicker than others. It seemed a slightly archaic way to retain patient information…unless you wanted to be sure you could dispose of it thoroughly at short notice. The best IT whizz in the world couldn’t retrieve a file from ash.
“I think I know why,” Tucker said.
He handed her a folder. Barbara looked at the papers inside. Fairly mundane patient information.
“Keep going,” Tucker said.
Barbara flipped past the first few pages.
“Damn,” she cursed.
The contents of the folder abruptly changed. Now, she was looking at printed photographs of vampyr artifacts. Some innocuous like items of clothing and jewelry. Others, sickening images of body parts, amputated limbs, hands, teeth, heads, internal organs.
Names and contact numbers were listed. Notes had been made, transcripts of conversations.
Client has requested that the teeth be adolescent. Undamaged. They have also put in a request for hair and a vampyr finger.
Note: this client is concerned with aesthetic and age. Artifacts must be in prime condition or they will be rejected. Photographs and examples necessary. Specialist interest—pre-pubescent specimens. Will pay a high premium for a perfect, intact head.
Barbara felt her stomach roll. An image flashed in her mind.
Heads. At least a dozen of them. Men, women, children.
“This is the only place vampyrs ‘hang’ around here.”
She closed the folder. “The Doc was dealing in illegal vampyr artifacts,” she said. “He was playing both sides—sourcing human blood for the Colony and vampyr artifacts for human collectors.”
“Looks that way.”
Although he obviously wasn’t getting them from the Colony here. He must have been sourcing from farther afield. But that certainly explained the new house. Successful dealers could make a lot of money from their trade.
She replaced the sheets of paper. “Let’s take a look at the other files.”
They methodically examined the remaining folders. Each contained similar paperwork. Probably a dozen in total. Plus, those that had already been burnt.
