Page 28 of Dead Drift

“Let’s go see.”

Griffin and Finley rode with Detective Crest to the crime scene. The poor woman, what was left of her, was a ghastly reminder of seeing his sister’s remains washed up on shore. Oh, the police had tried to keep them all away, but he’d reached the site before her body could be covered and the ME could finish his on-site examination, the beach being too narrow to effectively block anyone’s view.

He swallowed the bile burning up his throat as Finley clutched his hand.

“Crest.” The ME looked up from his kneeling position near the body, or rather the remains, and acknowledged his presence.

“You beat us here?”

“Was teeing off on the golf course around the corner when the call came in.”

“Thanks for coming so quickly.” Crest looked around at the gathering crowd. “The faster we can speed this along and get her covered up, the better.”

The ME nodded. “I understand.”

“This is Detective McCray and Dr. Scott-McCray, a forensic anthropologist out of Baltimore.”

“Dr. Scott”—the ME nodded—“your reputation precedes you.”

“Scott-McCray now,” Finley said and then turned to smile widely at Griffin. He clutched her hand. She had been called in to work a case in Houston some time ago, which resulted in a twenty-year-old cold case being solved. No wonder her reputation preceded her.

His wife was as talented and gifted as they came.

Crest slipped on his gloves and bent over the remains. “Please don’t tell me we’re looking at a second victim of our killer.”

Second victim? So Burke hadn’t mentioned his belief in one common killer to Detective Crest either. He must have wanted to see the cases as they were and as the detective in charge saw them. Presumably, Burke would have eventually shared his theory about a serial killer, but he’d been murdered before he could do so.

“There isn’t much left to work with,” the ME said with a shake of his head. Some animal had definitely gone to work on the remains. He pointed at the gunshot wound to the skull. “It looks consistent with a large caliber round, but I’ll need to get her back to the autopsy room to do a thorough examination before I’m comfortable confirming anything.” He shifted his gaze to Finley. “Dr. Scott-McCray, given the state of decomposition and your expertise, I’d be honored if you’d assist with the examination.”

Crest looked to Finley. “Are you up for it?”

Finley nodded. When it came to helping identify a lost loved one, she was always in.

“Which one you want, hon?” a tall, slender brunette with tat sleeves asked Kate as she flipped through the sample display.

“Actually, I was wondering if Tanya was in. I’ve heard she does incredible custom work.”

“That’d be me.” The brunette cracked her gum and smiled. “And you heard right.”

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you. I’m Jasmine, by the way. My guy is getting a tattoo with Hank, and I was hoping for a consult.”

“No problem,” Tanya said. “Come on back. I always like original ideas. You can only see so many hearts and roses, if you get my drift. It’s fun doing something unique.”

Tanya led her around the corner and down the back hall, past cubicles with neck-high dividing walls. Luke was in the third stall. He’d been taken back by Hank a half hour earlier and was lying on his stomach as Hank worked on his back, which was a mixture of scars and tattoos. She nearly tripped in shock at the scrolled tattoo of her nickname on his right shoulder blade. How had she missed that when he was doing his chin-ups last night? Maybe because she’d been too focused on his muscles to notice anything else.

“Hey, honey,” Luke said, lifting his head. “Having that consult?”

“Yep.” Though if Tanya had time, she wasn’t just getting the consult. She was going for it. She knew what she wanted, had known for a while, and there was no time like the present. Though she still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Luke had Gracie tattooed on his back.

Grace was the nickname given to her by her dad when she was young for her lack thereof. She’d been the tomboy climbing and, in accordance with her nickname, falling out of trees, rather than doing perfect pirouettes in the ballet studio like her sister, Beth.

Luke had taken the name and altered it to Gracie to fit her better. The new nickname was based off Sandra Bullock’s tough yet endearing FBI agent character in Miss Congeniality, a movie she loved.

And he had it on his back. Permanently.

“I know your man is hot,” Tanya said, “but you gonna stand there and stare all day, or are we going to do this?”

Heat flared in Kate’s cheeks, and she quickly hurried down the hall after Tanya, mortified.