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I frowned and glanced around at him. His face had gone white. "What the hell is wrong with you? Anyone would think you've never seen a body before."
He glanced at me sharply, "Which sounds like you have."
"It's an everyday part of our goddamn job." My confusion was growing. Why was what I was saying and half remembering so at odds with how he was reacting?
Who was the disconnected one here?
"It's not an everyday part of my fucking job." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Gold gleamed thickly amongst the red. "Look, Cathie says we should avoid disturbing the area too much. Harris is on his way."
"I have no intention of disturbing the crime scene." And no intention of simply standing back here waiting for the cops to arrive, either.
I kept walking. Evin sighed, and it was a sound of frustration if I'd ever heard one. Which I probably had.
The air underneath the trees was a riot of aromas. First and strongest was the metallic stench of blood, but under that ran a mix of vanilla from the yellow blossom puffs and the aromatic resinous smell of the smaller wattle shrubs scattered between the bigger trees.
And below even those, the scent so faint part of me thought I might have been imagining it, was the taste of anger. Of vengeance.
This murder had been planned, not accidental, if that scent was anything to go by.
I scanned the ground again. There were footprints here. Weird prints that resembled cloven hooves rather than anything human. Maybe our victim had been attacked by a goat.
The body lay in a small clearing in the middle of the trees. He was big-boned and rough-looking, his skin pale and flaccid, as if he neither saw much sunshine nor did much to look after himself. His head was bald, but thick black hair matted his chest, trailed down his stomach and ... my gaze stalled at his groin.
His genitals were gone. Penis, balls, and all, just gone. Hacked out of his flesh, leaving only a raw, gaping wound that still oozed blood - an indication this death hadn't happened very long ago.
"Oh, shit." Evin's voice was hushed, as if he feared disturbing ghosts.
"Someone really didn't like the way this man used his tool." I said it lightly, trying for humor but obviously not succeeding if Evin's expression was anything to go by.>He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Jesus, Hanna, I don't know if it's the right time - "
"Tell me," I demanded. "What don't I remember? Why are we here?"
"He's dead," he said abruptly, but with sympathy in his expression. "Your soul mate is dead. Hit by a truck and crushed."
I stared at him. Just stared at him, as the words rolled around and around in my brain. My soul mate is dead.
Yes, I thought. Yes. The emptiness was there, deep inside. It felt true and right. I closed my eyes, again saw that truck, that black car, and felt the rising pain - a pain so deep it felt like my heart was being torn apart. He was dead. The man who couldn't be killed was dead.
Tears stung my eyes and suddenly I was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. Evin took me in his arms and held me tight as the plane roared into the night.
W e landed on an airfield that was little more than a strip of dust beside a ramshackle collection of aging buildings. By that time, I was numb. The tears had stopped and there was nothing left except emptiness and an odd sort of disconnect.
I stared out the window, taking in the scenery. There was little enough to be seen. Not because it was night, but because there was nothing there. No tower, no guide lights, and certainly no terminal. Frank taxied around to one of the few large buildings in the immediate area, then killed the propellers and twisted around to face us. "If you're feeling like a drink later, lassie, the first one is on me. Sounds as if you could do with one."
I forced a smile. "Thanks. I just might take you up on that."
"Do." He flung open his door and climbed out, quickly disappearing inside the old hangar.
Evin opened the back door and lowered the steps, climbing down before turning around and offering a hand to me.
I paused on the top step and looked around. There were buildings and houses in the distance, their lights twinkling like stars, but I'd been expecting a city and Dunedan obviously wasn't anywhere near that large. The air itself was rich and clean, and smelled ever so faintly of the ocean.
This place, like the man waiting at the bottom of the steps, was unknown to me.
"You coming?" Evin said.
I placed my hand in his and let him help me down, but he didn't release me, keeping hold as we walked around the back of the building. An old blue Toyota four-wheel drive was parked at the far end, and it looked as beaten as I felt. Obviously, we couldn't afford to hire anything better.
Evin opened the passenger door, waited until I climbed in, then slammed it shut and walked around to the driver's side.
