In my time as a forensic pathologist, I've seen things that would make most people's hearts stop. But my career isn't typical. Working in the high-end, private mortuary means my tables aren't usually filled with natural deaths or common accidents.
My work focuses on the shadow side of the Elite. Murderers, "accidental" overdoses of the wealthy, and the brutal remains of mafia power struggles. I've looked into the vacant eyes of powerful men who thought they were untouchable and traced the cold traces of executions that were meant to stay hidden.
It's a weight you carry, a gallery of ghosts from the city's most dangerous circles that follows you home. You learn to compartmentalize, to see the body as a high-stakes puzzle rather than a person, but some nights, the secrets of the underworld bleed into your dreams.
She slides a large trolley with a body bag on it out of the ambulance.
"Missed you, Lucy," I say with a warm smile before turning to the covered body.
"What is it this time?"
My hands wrap around the cold metal as I help her guide the trolley toward the doors.
"The Arbiter again," she almost whispers, like it's a forbidden name. There is a hint of worry in her hazel eyes.
"Another mafia member. A really important one, according to the police. It's already all over the news. He hasn't made a move in a month, and now he's back," she continues.
My mind goes into analysis mode immediately. I try to put pieces together, knowing I've examined his victims before.
We walk to the autopsy room, where she hands me the papers with the descriptions I need. I unzip the bag and take my first look. The silence is broken by Lucy's words again as my eyes trace the victim's cuts and bruises.
"He was found buried in the forest behind the lake on the other side of the town. Police said the crime scene looked almost amateur for The Arbiter, but the victim profile gave it away. He's been hunting this mafia for a while, and this isn't his first victim from their group."
Her words grow quieter, and the noise in my head gets louder.
I was waiting for this. For him to strike again. He is one of the most interesting killers I have ever encountered. Well, metaphorically speaking. I only get his "art" on my table.
He is usually so precise with his work. But this? This seems almost… Rushed. Not amateur, but hurried. I've seen too many of his bodies to underestimate him, but this was done under pressure.
Even though I'm not a cop, I want to find out why. Why was he so reckless this time? My curiosity will probably end up with me on one of these tables one day, but I can't help it.
After our talk, Lucy gets a call to head back to her station. I'd be lying if I said we only talked about the case; we are girls, after all.
I go back to my office and study the papers. There isn't much information, but it's enough to start. The silence in this place is almost unbearable. Only the hum of those horrendous fluorescent lights fills the hall along with my racing thoughts.
Suddenly, my intuition spikes. I check the cameras. The system was updated recently because of intruders.
Then, my computer shuts down along with the cameras and all the lights. I'm trapped in total darkness.
I call Bryan in security, and he assures me he's fixing the power. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, the silence feels like it's pressing against my ribs.
I turn away from the glass that now shows me only a dark hallway. I try not to look for shadows, but I'm desperately waiting for the lights to come back.
I feel eyes on my back. A cold, uncomfortable crawl runs down my spine, alerting me of danger hiding behind me.Mali, calm down.
Before I can even reach for my flashlight, the lights flicker back on. I take a relieved breath and try to fix my posture.
After cursing at myself for being scared of the dark, I walk back to the autopsy room to continue my work. But I freeze at the door. The lights inside are already on. They are motion-triggered.
"Hello?"
I call out, trying to hide the fear growing inside me.
No answer. Why would there be? If someone really is here, they wouldn't reveal themselves. Focus, Madeline.
Someone is definitely here. I can feel it in my bones. The air in the morgue has grown thick, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and something else… something sharp and alive. My heart is pounding so fast I'm afraid it will jump right out of my chest.
The man beneath my hands was a victim of haste, I’m sure of it. I find myself wishing the dead would just magically wake up, if only for a second, to whisper who The Arbiter really is. What does a ghost look like? How does a man leave no trace after years of hunting in the heart of this city?
