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We can’t even begin to speculate as to how many abducted women are still out there, either awaiting a horrific death, or about to be auctioned off.
With or without Quinn by my side tonight, I will attempt to stop this. For now, Sadie is still invested in seeing this to the end. So I can’t let the masked man’s threat to expose me and my role in Wells’ murder prevent tonight from happening. Being taken in for questioning cannot happen. And that’s why I’m here—to make sure that whatever message the Alpha may have planted on this vic remains a mystery until this is over.
I slip on my mask.
I have no doubt that the Alpha and his lackeys are practiced enough not to leave behind something so careless as a fingerprint. If there is one on this vic, I’m almost certain it was left on purpose, with the intent for me to find.
“The lab has been cleared,” Aubrey says as he approaches. His glasses are in place, and he’s wearing a mask. “How many times have you performed this procedure?”
I glance at Natalie, glad they’re both unaware of the unsure expression I wear beneath my mask. “None,” I admit. “If you haven’t noticed, the M.E.’s lab isn’t equipped for this kind of forensics. Usually, in a case like this, I’d have the body transported to the forensics’ lab.” I crack open a tube of cyanoacrylate, and drop a measured amount of superglue onto the hotplate inside the chamber.
Aubrey slowly increases the humidity level, and the chamber fills with vapor. “I’m impressed your assistants were able to build this chamber in such short notice. You have a tight and skilled crew here.”
I really do. And they’ve managed to persevere in spite of so many setbacks and difficulties. Like when Simon was declared a serial killer. And Carmen was attacked by Simon and hospitalized. She never returned, but I don’t fault her. No one does. They kept on, and that’s why I know they’ll brave what’s to happen next.
The fumed body of the drowned vic lays face-down on the steel autopsy table. Her secrets awaiting to be revealed. The fuming process was successful; the cyanoacrylate affixed to her bloated skin without fail. And I have to wonder if her death was designed for this specific purpose; if the Alpha is so meticulous they submerged her body in water to create the perfect canvas to plant a latent fingerprint.
I watch Aubrey dust the black fingerprint powder along the back of the vic’s neck, delicately twirling the wand, the bristles tapping an image to life. And there it is: one flawless print.
“That developed rather nicely,” he says, pride evident in his voice.
It did develop nicely. There was some debate over whether to use magnetic powder, but in the end, we agreed the iron-rich content of the powder would be too abrasive and may wear away the print.
I should’ve pushed for the magnetic powder. I should’ve dusted the print myself. I could still save myself…if I step forward now to lift the print. Just one smudge, one slip of my fingers, and all this will go away.
I squeeze my eyes closed and quell the fiery ache gripping my chest.
It’s too late. Quinn already knows the truth, and he’s bound by his oath to expose it. To expose me. That’s why he didn’t stay with me last night, why he couldn’t face me this morning. He may be struggling with his conscience, battling when to do just that—but he will. He will do what’s ultimately right.
I glance at the time on my phone and then flip on my camera. While Aubrey is preparing the reagents and lifting tape, I snap a couple shots of the print.
Soon, Aubrey has a clean, sealed fingerprint. He holds it up to the florescent light. “Don’t you find it conspicuous that a lone print was found in this particular place.” He tilts the screen, angling his head. “It doesn’t make sense. You don’t move a body by the neck. Why would a print be there?”
I suck in a sharp breath. “I see this place has you speculating and working out theories,” I say, masking the quiver in my voice.
He looks at me, a thin smile on his handsome face. “Touché.” He lowers the screen and places it in a manila folder. “Should get this to the actual case solvers right away. Would be even more surreal to actually get a hit from this print on one of the databases.”
And my stomach bottoms out. That’s exactly what I fear: the unknown—the element of surprise.
“Keep me posted.” I turn to head toward my office.
“Don’t you want to come with?” he asks.
I pause. “I have a couple reports to finish in my office, and then…I don’t know.” I shrug. “I may just actually take the rest of the day off.”
His smile warms. “I think that’s a good idea, Avery. I’ll message you with any updates.”
I return his smile before I take off, my breath held until I’m able to lock my office door behind me. I release the air from my lungs in a hard expel, lightheaded. The FBI M.E. has turned out to be an asset rather than a hindrance, and it pains me that I can’t enjoy this shared learning experience between us.
Pulling my laptop from my bag, I set up on my desk quickly. I have the image of the print scanned into my program and running a search before I can talk myself out of it.
I keep copies of the lab files in a program I coded myself for easy reference. And when I get a hit, my chest implodes. Light and sound flickers in and out.
A face rolls across the screen, a red flashing print to its right.
Price Alexander Wells.
“Fuck.”
