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“The shitty kind, apparently. Don’t worry, love. Your secret is safe with me.”
***
Graves Funeral Home sat right on the corner of Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon, and it took up two full lots. It was a three-story Colonial with dark red brick and white columns that flanked the front entryway. Two massive elm trees stood in front of the house, the leaves new with spring and bright green. No grass grew beneath the trees, and the roots were gnarled and grew out of the ground, cracking the sidewalk.
Jack backed the Suburban up under the portico where we loaded and unloaded bodies. It didn’t take long to get the victim moved onto a stretcher and up the rampthat led into the large kitchen. This was the private area of the funeral home where guests weren’t allowed. The big stainless steel door that led to my lab was just off the kitchen, and I keyed in the code and waited until the locks released.
Frigid air blasted me in the face as soon as I opened the door and Jack and I maneuvered the bodyinside and to the elevator. Despite the temperature, sweat broke out on Jack’s brow as soon as the smell of the embalming fluid hit him. I immediately went and turned on the fans to the highest setting.
I tried not to pay any attention to the five boxes that sat unobtrusively in the corner—the same boxes my father had been looking for.This was the only secure place I could keep them, but I wondered if the security on the door would really keep him out. Jack had a large safe in his closet where he kept extra guns, a few heirlooms, and extra cash. I was thinking it might be better to move them there, that way we could go through the boxes in the comfort of our home instead of huddled in the basement with a dead body.
“You okay?” I asked after I got the body settledon the table. “There are bottles of water in the fridge if you want one.”
“I’m good. It’ll pass after a few minutes.”
I grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and then tossed him the box. I worried about the shape the victim would be in even after such a short trip in the car. Victims found in thewater after an extended period of time were extremely delicate, and I knew if I was going to get viable prints for Colburn the work was going to be painstakingly tedious.
I unzipped the bodybag and we carefully removed the victim, making sure not to brush against his sensitive skin. I cut his shirt down the middle and peeled it away from his chest and shoulders. His flesh was already patchy and raw in places just from the trip down the river. My complete attention was on getting the sleeve from the arm when I felt Jack pause.
I looked up to make sure he was all right and wasn’t going to be sick, but I knew it was something else entirely once I saw the look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look at the tattoo on his chest.”
Just above the victim’s heart was a tattoo of an eagle. It held an assault rifle in one talon, a lightning bolt in the other, and a large knife pierced the center. The detail was incredible and I could recite everything about it without looking at it. I was intimately familiar with that tattoo. Jack had one just like it, only his was located above his right hip.
“I don’t understand.”
“He was a SWAT brother,” Jack said. “Or maybe a wannabe, but he’s got marks of combat on him—looks like a knife wound on the arm and a bullet hole down low on his side—so I’m thinking he’s probably legit. We all have the tattoo. It’s a rite of passage.”
“One of your squad from DC? Is the tattoo specific to whichunit you’re in or are they all the same?”
“They’re all the same, so he could be from anywhere. But since he washed up on our shore, he’s more than likely out of one of the surrounding offices. If he’s a cop his prints will be easy to tag.”
“Then I’ll get started. This is going to take a while if you’ve got something else you want to do.”
“I’ll see it through.”
I finished removing the victim’s clothes and bagged them carefully to send off to Richmond and the lab techs we used there. Just in case there was blood belonging to someone other than the victim.
The tissue on the victim’s fingers wasn’t stable, and if I wasn’t careful I’d tear the skin and wouldn’t get a viable print. The easiest way to do it was to remove the finger entirely and then remove the skin. It was quick—if gruesome—work to remove the finger and the skin, and I laid the epidermis on the table.
I used a superglue solution to spray on the skin to keep it from tearing and then I carefullywrapped it over my glove, on the tip of my index finger. The black powder used at crime scenes was more delicate than the ink normally used when fingerprinted at the station, so Jack dusted the finger and I gently pressed it to the card he’d placed on the table. It was slow work, but when I lifted my hand and saw the perfect print I knew we’d gotten what we needed.
I wiped my browwith the back of my arm, and when I stood up straight my back ached from where I’d been hunched over. I looked at the clock and saw we’d been at it for almost three hours. It was shy of noon and my stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d had nothing more than a cup of coffee all day.
“That’s all I can do for now untilI get the go ahead to start on an autopsy.”
“Then let’s get this to Colburn so he can look for matches through the computer. If the victim’s a cop he’ll be much easier to find. And while we’re out we can grab some lunch at Martha’s.”
Martha’s Diner was the only sit down restaurant in Bloody Mary. The hamburgers were good and greasy, the coffee questionable, and the pie out of this world. “Oh, good. It’s been a couple of days since I’ve been stared at and gossiped about. I was starting to miss it.”
“I’m sensing sarcasm in your tone.”
I stuck out my tongue at Jack andpushed the body into the walk-in freezer. “You’re asking for it. You know Martha is going to ask you all sorts of questions about our relationship, and then you’ll tell her we’re engaged. And then she’s going to want to know why I’m not wearing an engagement ring. Then she’s going to assume it’s because you’re still on the market and she’ll try to fix you up with her niece’s granddaughter’s first cousin.”
“I’m pretty sure I followed your entire train of thought,” Jack said wryly. “It must be love.”
