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As Lundy’s body turned, Dante watched Harley click away, dismissing Lundy and focusing on the blood stained body.
“Hi,” Harley said dismissively, still looking away. She’d tossed her dangling badge over her back to keep from getting in the way of her photographs.
“Tomasello, I’m about to go check out across the street.”
The shutter clicked away on her camera as she grunted an audible sound.
“Tomasello?” Lundy said impatiently.
Dante watched with amusement when Harley snapped her head up, eyes darkened with irritation at Lundy. Maybe she hadn’t really caught a glimpse of him yet. He was waiting for her to glance over Lundy’s shoulder and see him. Why did he have a desperate need to want to see her smile again? She did that a lot in the wee hours of the morning. Each kiss he placed on her neck brought out a moan.
“What?” she growled.
“Harley,” Lundy cleared his throat impatiently, “we have a visitor on the crime scene today. I want you to be nice.”
Strange, he thought, the pit of his stomach flittered. Maybe the coffee had an effect on him? Dante shifted his feet in anticipation of their eye contact. He suddenly felt nervous and unsure of himself. Were his palms sweating?
When Harley looked at him, Dante noted she wore little makeup; a line of eyeliner over her top lid that thickened the look of her long dark lashes and a smear of tinted lip-gloss covered her full lips. A taste test of its flavor seemed good right now. But no, he had to remember to get it through Harley’s head before she said anything, to not acknowledge their meeting.
To his astonishment, Harley’s lashes fluttered up at him. She half smiled and said without any recognition, “Yeah, nice to meet you.”
****
Harley steadied the camera in her hands. Suddenly, the one thing she used like another limb chilled her fingers. Did her temperature spike or something? True, June in Florida meant temperatures spiked the ninety-degree mark by eight am, but at half past six she already felt the slow trickle of sweat drip down her back. She steadied her eyes on the man standing before him and gave a half smile.
She prayed Dante Rossi didn’t expose this stupid mistake of theirs. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach and she hoped her eyes did not reflect the panic bubbling behind them. She didn’t need Steve Lundy picking up on her craziness or to blow this case.
Dressed in a pair of elbow length black rubber gloves and fitted with a headband magnifier, Robert, the coroner, cleared his throat. He rummaged through the pants pocket of the victim. “What a hell of a way to go?”
“Got a COD?” asked Dante.
COD? Special Agent? Who in the hell did she marry? Superman? He certainly did have the body of a superhero along with the alias style clothing. A suit and tie. Harley pressed her lips together to keep from licking them. Her fetish for a sharp dressed man bubbled. Steve interrupted her thoughts.
“Cause of death? The poor smo’ got hit and drug by a car.”
“And the driver didn’t stop?” asked Robert raising his red eyebrows, validating Dante’s suspicion.
“In the early hours of the morning?” Steve’s voice went up an octave, “In this neighborhood?”
If Steve was right and the kid was hit by a hunter, wouldn’t the hunter have been armed with weapons? A squishy sound filled the room. Robert’s fingers felt around the bloody skull. “Well looks like the driver was able to get off one shot. Right here,” he dug his fingers under the chin. Just the tip filled the small bullet hole.
“Damn it!” Steve punched his meaty hands together. “Now I gotta go look for a shell casing. Harley, put the few elective courses you took in high school to work and take pictures. Hell,” he pushed his way out of the tent barking out orders outside, “and hurry up, I need your bilingual ass to come interpret.”
Harley squatted down to change cameras, grabbing her Cannon Rebel nestled in its case, her fingers brushed against the cold steel of her back-up gun—her favorite Sig Sauer P220, Scorpion edition. A girl had to protect herself. Ignoring everyone else, Harley viewed the scene through her lens. The face had been so disfigured, dental works were going to be needed, if there were any. People from this side of town didn’t worry as much about dental hygiene as they did day laboring. Could their John Doe have been getting an early start on day laboring? The ratted strips of shirt gave little information, but Harley recognized the crimson and gold colors of the shirt. This kid went to or supported someone from the same school as Hannah. She still wasn’t sure of the need for Dante Rossi’s presence but she still had a job to do. Dante, squatting down also apparently had a job to do.
Robert broke the silence. “Let’s just pray this was a mercy killing for this kid.”
“You can tell the age?” Dante said with a nod, clearly impressed.
Shaking his head Robert looked up and held the kids’ wrist. “I can tell that he’s under twenty-one. This is a tag for a rave all the local graduates have been coming into the hospital with all week. This colored wrist band is the only thing connecting all the kids who claim they were at different parties. It’s party central around here. Someone is making a killing off these kids, no pun intended.”
Since the graduation ceremony and bombshell, Harley hadn’t seen her niece. Hannah had all accesses to Harley’s townhouse whenever she wanted, and with her folks gone she would be staying at her place. Harley’s current job had her in and out with little time to check on the second bedroom upstairs designated for Hannah. Last night she hadn’t even bothered checking in at curfew time. Could Hannah be a part of this crowd? It was on the tip of Harley’s tongue, but Robert calmed her nerves.
“Alcohol poisoning, drug overdoses, a lot of confused kids and no, I didn’t see Hannah come through.”
“Hannah, as in your niece?” asked Dante.
Harley’s eyes stretched wide open, praying he would shut the fuck up. Robert’s green eyes cut between the two of them and the medical examiner did not miss a beat. Harley spent a lot of time with him at the morgue taking photographs for him. They’d gone out for drinks at Chet’s Place.
