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It was already after five. I’d brought my work laptop home, determined to do some additional work before Jenny came over. However, a glass of wine or five was definitely in order. Maybe something stronger at this point. It had been a shit day, including the several reporters attempting to get a status on the case. The obligatory meeting with Christine had been draining, my mind still processing my horrible luck.
Now I couldn’t seem to get Jonny’s face or his incredible body out of my mind. He’d purposely goaded me, which I hated himfor, but in a way, he’d protected me as well. I couldn’t forget that in my bouts of anger, which there had been several throughout the day.
I turned onto the street where the morgue was housed, allowing my thoughts to return to what I’d learned about the man. He was considered savage, ruthless, powerful, and a consummate businessman by almost everyone. It would seem both he and his family had control over a significant portion of Canada, not just Montreal and the surrounding areas.
The report had been right in that he’d never been formally arrested, although I’d weeded through enough articles in various online newspapers to determine that he’d been the suspect in a couple of high-profile murders, including of a known enemy several years before. However, what I found fascinating was for the most part, the Canadian press was kind to him and his family, as if he was considered royalty.
There was even a photograph taken with him and the prime minister of Canada, both men smiling as they prepared for a game of golf. Maybe things were different in our adjoining country.
I pulled into the parking lot, trying to rationalize how I was going to handle prosecuting this case. A part of me hoped for slam dunk evidence that Jonny wasn’t guilty so I could get him out of my life quickly. Somehow, I had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. I’d considered the possibility he’d been framed but if that was the case, by whom? Did that mean the streets of Louisville should be prepared for a bloodbath?
While there were somewhere close to twenty to twenty-five gangs identified within the city, most were considered neighborhood entities, only some venturing out of theirrespective areas. The O’Connors were the single example of a more polished, well organized, and wealthy syndicate located within the city limits. With the leader being murdered, that could mean there was a larger rival mafia ready to storm into the city.
The possibilities were endless, and I wasn’t going to find any answers until I knew exactly what I was dealing with.
As I headed to the door of the morgue, it felt as if icy fingers were crawling down my back. There was little more I loathed than going inside, doing everything I could to send someone else to do the dirty deed. However, Victoria spent more time in the city’s morgue than she did in her office located in a nearby hospital. I knew I could find her here at all hours of the day or night.
The girl behind the counter was someone I knew. “Hey, Bailey. I assume Victoria is in?” I signed the check-in sheet, one of Victoria’s crude jokes coming into the back of my mind.
“Our patients check in but they never check out, just like Hotel California.”
The woman had a twisted sense of humor, which is likely why she could handle such macabre work.
Bailey was a young girl with a Goth look and attitude, the black-on-black attire befitting the job she’d been working far too well. Even her makeup reflected her adoration for metal music and whatever else she considered a hobby. I didn’t ask, didn’t want to know. What I did know was that she was brilliant, studying to become a pediatrician, and her parents were well respected in the community.
She looked up from one of her old-fashioned textbooks, which she preferred versus using her laptop, nodding only once. “You know she’s always here.”
“Sometimes I think she’s a vampire.”
“You didn’t know she is?”
I gave her a dour look and she grinned. “Very funny. Study hard.”
“I am. Less than one year to go.”
Look out, world. I couldn’t imagine how she’d be with kids. I headed for the set of double doors, preparing myself for the stench of formaldehyde. I usually gagged when entering. Maybe the continuous rush of adrenaline from seeing Jonny was preventing me from doing so this time.
That I couldn’t get the man out of my mind was a telling statement of how much trouble I was truly in. If my boss found out I’d slept with the man, I had a feeling she’d fire me on the spot, whether or not she believed me that I hadn’t known who he was.
I found Victoria with her elbow-length gloves on, her hands wrists deep inside a victim. She was listening to rock music while performing her task, even swaying a little in time to the drumbeat.
I stood watching her for a few seconds as she removed an organ, placing it almost lovingly in a metal pan. I had to turn my head away, the thought of gagging on my bright red pumps not a good picture in my mind. When I finally cleared my throat, she laughed.
“I knew you were there, Sedona. I have barf bags on the counter over there if you need one,” Victoria said, still laughing.
“Both you and Bailey are hilarious today. You’ve been inhaling too many chemicals.”
“Well, sadly, if that’s the case, it’s because of the number of murders that have arrived on my doorstep the last three weeks. I haven’t had a single day off.”
“Any idea where the influx is coming from?”
She turned toward me, holding her arms up. There was something about seeing blood slickening her gloved arms that was more troubling than almost anything, including being here in the first place. “I’m no expert like you are, but I’d say we have some increased gang activity.”
“Typical gang members?”
“Not unless the new trend is wearing Armani suits.”
Shit. I’d been right. “Organized crime.”
