Inside the lobby, the climate-controlled air chilled her sweat-dampened skin, making her shiver. Braddock acknowledged the security guard at the reception desk with a nod, then pointed to the double doors marked “Personnel Only.” The guard responded with a two-fingered salute and the doors started their slow swing inward.
The fact that CJ had known for a long time that this moment was a strong probability considering her sister’s lifestyle failed to diminish how much it hurt. How badly she wanted this to be a misunderstanding. Why couldn’t it be like in the movies? She would stare down at the body and find that it wasn’t Shelley.
But that wouldn’t happen. Braddock was here.
Beyond those double doors a long white center corridor led to what CJ presumed were laboratories, autopsy rooms, and cold storage units. The too familiar smells assaulted her. No matter how new or high tech the facility, there was no perfected method to disguise the overpowering scent of preservative chemicals and refrigerated flesh.
A lump rose in her throat.
Her sister was in there ... in one of those bags inside a deep metal drawer.
Focus on the steps.
A woman, blond hair, tall, buxom, stepped into the corridor. “Detective Braddock,” she said with a smile, then turned her attention to CJ. “Ms. Patterson.”
“Dr. Patterson,” Braddock said, circuitously correcting the woman, “this is Medical Examiner Candice Dobbins.”
“Dr. Dobbins.” CJ extended her hand.
“Dr. Patterson.” Dobbins cast a self-conscious glance at CJ, then gestured to the door across the hall. “This way.”
Dobbins entered storage unit two. She paused long enough to pull on latex gloves, offered a pair to CJ. “We don’t generally allow family members back here, but Detective Braddock insisted.”
“Thank you.” As she tugged the latex into place, CJ’s heart started that desperate pounding despite her best efforts to keep the rate measured and steady. She consciously adjusted her respiration to a slower, deeper pattern in hopes of heading off another adrenaline dump.
Wasn’t working.
Dobbins pulled a chart, then selected drawer nine. The glide of metal on metal hissed as she hauled open the long shelf.
Pulse thumping, CJ moved to one side of the extended drawer unit. She stared at the body bag as if this were her first time seeing one, as if she were watching herself do this rather than actually doing it.
“She’s scheduled for autopsy at the end of the week,” Dobbins explained. “If I can get to her sooner, I will. Preliminary tox screen showed no suspicious compounds or illegal substances.”
Startled from the surrealism, CJ’s gaze met the ME’s. “No drugs?” Shelley had said she was clean in her voicemail, but CJ had assumed that she had lied yet again.
Dobbins shook her head. “No drugs.” She flipped through the chart and continued. “At Detective Braddock’s request, I performed a priority tox screen and a brief visual assessment as soon as she arrived.”
Shelley had told her the truth. For once.
The bottom fell out of CJ’s stomach. Her head started to spin with emotions she couldn’t afford to feel right now.
“There is,” Dobbins said as she prepared to open the bag, “evidence of past physical trauma, bruises from several days to more than a week old, as well as abrasions, scratches, and bruising as recent as a few hours before death.”
CJ managed a nod. “Her ex-boyfriend beat her up pretty badly just over a month ago.” The bastard. CJ would bet anything he had done this. She turned to Braddock. “Have you arrested Ricky Banks?” If Braddock hadn’t taken that step already, he was a bigger fool than she’d thought. “You know what he did to her on a regular basis.” Banks’s mistreatment of Shelley went back more than a decade. “It’s a miracle this didn’t happen before now.”
“I’m well aware of Shelley’s relationship with Banks,” Braddock confirmed. “He’s at the top of our suspect list.”
He’d removed the sunglasses. She tried to read what she saw in his eyes, couldn’t. That he shifted his attention away from her scrutiny too quickly suggested there was more he had no intention of sharing.
The outrage that always accompanied any time she spent in his presence stirred. “I want all the details, Braddock.”
He shared a look with Dobbins. CJ’s anxiety level skyrocketed. Why didn’t he just give her the facts he had? On the flight here, she’d compiled a mental list of questions she needed to ask. Between arranging that flight and clearing her schedule at the hospital, she’d had her hands full until she’d collapsed into the seat on the plane.
“You’re aware,” he began, choosing his words so carefully that she couldn’t possibly miss the tactic, “that there’s a lot we won’t know until the autopsy is complete.”
That part she got. The outrage shifted into all-out fury. “But there are things you do know, like who found her? Where was she? What were the circumstances?”Breathe. Her mind kept telling her to look down, to just look at Shelley, but she couldn’t. Not and hold it together.
“There are things we don’t fully understand yet,” he confessed. “It’s complicated. In the best interest of the investigation, we’re not prepared to release certain details at this time.”
