“Are you sure?” Roger asked.
“One was stabbed in the heart, and the otherhad his heart torn out, so yes, I’m sure,” Harding retorted.
“Did you say he had his hearttornout?” Maggie blurted.
“Yes.”
“As inoutof hischest?”
“Yes.”
“What happened here?” Roger asked asMaggie’s skin crawled.
“I don’t know,” Harding replied.
Maggie gazed around the macabre scene. Theblue strobes of the police vehicles flashing over theblood-splattered walls and the river of red beneath her feetreminded her of a grisly Pollock painting.
Nothing could have survived what happenedhere, yet Harding continued leading them toward a body lying proneon the ground. As they neared, she realized the victim was a manfrom his short black hair and the width of his broad shoulders andthe size of his large body. His arms, still inside a black trenchcoat, were spread over his head.
Two police officers stood guard beside him,and on the other side of the alley, two more officers knelt besideanother victim. Maggie blinked and stumbled when she spotted theslimy trail of intestines poking out from under that victim.
“We don’t think that one has a chance,”Harding muttered and waved at the eviscerated man. “This one mighthave a chance, but….” His voice trailed off.
Despite the icy air, a fresh sheen of sweatbeaded Harding’s face. He pulled a white, handkerchief from hisfront pocket and wiped the sweat away before shoving the cloth backinside. Maggie’s sick feeling grew when half the handkerchiefremained dangling from Harding’s pocket. He’d always beenfastidious about his appearance, and a ball buster to any of theofficers who slacked in that department.
“Are they all stabbing victims?” Rogerasked, trying to learn what they were dealing with here.
“No knives present,” Harding said in aclipped tone, and Maggie suspected he was trying not to vomit.
Not much in life unnerved her, but she feltlike she was having some strange out-of-body experience as shesurveyed the surreal scene. Drying blood streaked sections ofbricks, and it had slid down to puddle on the asphalt. She searchedfor any weapon or drugs left behind, but she didn’t see any.
“Gunshot wounds?” Roger asked incredulouslyas he gazed at the intestines lying on the ground.
“I haven’t seen any bullet wounds in any ofthe bodies, but I haven’t done a close inspection of them. We’vefound no weapons at all, but there were others here when wearrived. They grabbed some things before fleeing.”
“There were other people here?” Maggieasked.
“Yes, seven of them. We shot at them. I knowI hit at least one, and I saw a few others get hit, but they allran off.”
Maggie’s head rose at Harding’s reply. “Theyran off after beingshot?”
“They did. I don’t know what kind of drugsthey’re on, but being shot didn’t slow them down.” Harding stoppedbeside the prone man in the trench coat. “I don’t think he has muchof a chance, but his vitals were stronger than the othervictim.”
It didn’t matter which one of the livevictims were more likely to survive anymore as her coworkers, Glennand Walt, had also arrived. They were making their way toward theeviscerated man.
When they stopped next to him, Maggiefocused her attention on the man lying before her. Her heart leaptinto her throat when she saw the flesh of the man’s back had beenpeeled back like some fucked-up banana.
“Is that his spine?” Roger demanded.
Harding gulped and lifted his hat to wipethe sweat from his brow. “You would know better than me.”
They all knew what it was; it was impossiblenot to know. A kid could recognize the white, curving bone ofsomeone’s spine. What had been able to do that,whohad doneit, andwhy?
Maggie shuddered. The only thing that everbothered her about this job were the calls involving children, butthis… well, this was puretorture.
A pool of blood spread out from beneath theman. Within the coppery tang of his blood, she detected a hint ofclove too. It made her stomach turn that she found the aroma almostpleasant when any rational human would find everything about thisrepulsive. Yet, she couldn’t deny she wanted to get closer to theman. Her fingers tingled with the urge to brush his hair back soshe could see his face.
The face of a dead man, she realized.
