Page 103 of Eternal Obsession

The outline around the central stone remained. Marking where the victim had been found. Ingrid stood still, letting the space speak. Letting the weight of the place, of the crime settle. The quiet promise that answers would arise. Whoever had done this had disturbed more than just a sacred site that meant the world to England, they had also taken a life.

And she was glad to be part of the team that would make sure they didn’t get away with it. She left the tent, rested her gloved palm against one of the pillars, and peered up at its intimidating monolith.

"What did you witness?" she whispered. “Tell me everything.”

Chapter Forty-Three

ORPHEUS

Ingrid helped herself to a hot cup of coffee and grabbed a bagel from the communal staff room. She was glad to be back at Salisbury police station, where she knew every face and every corner. She was ready to dive in, instincts sharp, adrenaline humming, back in her element and rearing to go.

She ducked into her office, pulling the blinds down, and changed into a fresh suit. Quickly refreshing herself, feeling sharp, clean, and ready for anything.

She took another bite out of the dry bagel. Despite its staleness—probably left over from the previous morning—it tasted good.

She headed out and strolled with coffee in hand along winding hallways. Lost in her own head, she slipped down to the underbelly of the station before she even realized it.

The sanitized aroma of the morgue caused Ingrid to shudder.

Still eating her breakfast, coffee in hand, she headed toward the autopsy of the Stonehenge victim. Ingrid passed along the line of laboratories, pausing briefly at the desk directly outside the coroner’s office and recognizing Sara, the pathologist’s assistant. The young girl rested her legs up on the desk, totally engrossed in a magazine.

“Didn’t start yet,” Sara said.

“What’s the delay?” Ingrid asked.

“We were waiting for you. Ellison’s in there now working on his preliminaries. Oh and FYI, there’s rookie-student policemen who have come to view their first postmortem.”

“Sounds good,” Ingrid said dryly.

She finished the remainder of her bagel and entered the chilly examination room, coffee in hand. A female corpse rested on the cold, stark central table.

The five graduates were dressed in theater scrubs. They viewed Ingrid wearily. Ingrid approached Dr. Ellison, the fifty-two-year-old short and stocky coroner.

Ellison’s eyes crinkled with warmth as he greeted her, radiating his usual spark of liveliness. Despite everything, the cases, the darkness, he always seemed strangely untouched by it all. Unbothered by the weight of the world or the frailty of the human condition. And to her, that had always been quietly inspiring.

“What have you got for me?” Ingrid did her best to avoid the gazes of the eager students.

“Coffee!” Ellison snapped his fingers, taking Ingrid’s drink from her. He gulped it down, handing the empty cup back to her. “Ingrid, you’ll be bringing your lunch in next.” Ellison smiled and placed his small round glasses on.

“It’s just that the smell of the coffee beans helps to . . .”

“Sterility has its disadvantages,” Ellison said and pulled on his exam gloves. He leaned over the corpse and moved the girl’s limbs this way and that, viewing her body carefully.

“Fingerprints have confirmed her identity,” Ingrid began. She faced the police students and addressed them. “Purple highlights are unusual. Such a marker may help with tracking her movements.” Ingrid pulled out her writing pad.

Ellison peered over his glasses. “So my Jane Doe is really a. . . ?”

“Gillian Stewart,” Ingrid said. “Her fingerprints are in the system.”

“What’s her prior?”

“Arrested on a drug possession violation.”

“Figures. Her prelim tox screen was positive for narcotics.”

“T.O.D?” Ingrid asked.

“Judging by lividity and rigor mortis, she died approximately thirty or so hours before we even found her at Stonehenge.”