It was Monday, again. I hated Mondays, and by the looks on the faces dragging around the office, I’m not the only one. The weekend had been tediously slow. Nothing out of the ordinary caught my attention during my two days off. Talk about being disappointed. My fingers itched for something to do, something extracurricular. All work and no play made me unbelievably cranky.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Adrian Davis, my supervisor, frowned as he peered over his glasses, his fork hovering above his plate.
Damn it, I hate Mondays. Sipping my coffee, I cleared my throat. “I wish I could give you more to go on, but as it stands, your body is still a Jane Doe. She has physical signs of sexual assault, ligature marks around her neck, and what looks to be cigarette burns on her hands. I clocked time of death to be three hours before her body was discovered. The burn marks weren’t fresh. Your killer took time with the body.”
"It definitely seems that way," he lowered his fork. "Perhaps our Jane Doe knew her attacker on a personal level."
That was one of the biggest mistakes a criminal could make. There was no way you wouldn’t be recognized in a line up if Bob, your friendly neighborhood watchman, was on the other side of the glass. "Around eighty-five percent of all physical assault cases involve a victim that knows their attacker in some capacity."
Adrian wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Let me know if you get any hits when the prints come back.”
“Certainly,” I pushed away from the table, taking my mug with me. “I’ll page you first thing.”
“Thank you, Angela.”
Adrian was one of the few employees in the department whose time I enjoyed, and that was saying something. We were similar in some respects: quiet, thorough, and we completely immersed ourselves in our work. I knew for a fact that we had a different side most people never saw outside these endless gray walls.
Taking the long way to the morgue, I carefully sipped my coffee and avoided encountering anyone. The crime lab hallways were busy with detectives, and lab technicians, each of them scurrying around like rats in a maze. Some stereotypical descriptions were dead on.
“Angel! Angel, wait up!”
Some were completely off the mark.
I stopped dead in my tracks and glanced over my shoulder to see crime scene analysts Stephen Sanders and Henry Jackson approaching me from the other end of the hall. Normally, I would playfully contemplate killing a man who called me by an irritating nickname, but one look at Stephen, and I knew that wasn’t possible. He was a breath of fresh air in a place like the crime lab, always smiling and bouncing around with endless energy. The man hit a nerve, almost to the point of irritation, yet I found myself irritated more when he wasn’t around. Maybe I’m just irritated that I’m irritated. Whatever.
He stopped right as I turned to face him and wiggled his eyebrows. “Get any results from those prints?”
“No.”
He was unfazed by my monotone answer. “Lifted those puppies myself, quick and clean, if I can toot my own horn, which I can. I expect you’ll be getting a name any second now.”
Henry rolled his eyes from his stance behind Stephen, and I shifted my attention to the taller analyst. If pictures were included in the dictionary, his would be pasted under the very description of handsome. Six feet tall with green eyes, he made women all over the building go gaga.
Sometimes I wished I needed the excuse to have a boyfriend. That urge usually didn’t last for very long; it never did, especially when it came to handsome men. Henry was intelligent and knew his way around the streets of Las Vegas having grown up here his entire life. Still, something in his eyes told me he was soft under that rough exterior. Something also told me deep down he knew that I wasn’t.
“How’s it going, Jackson?”
“Good Wilkins, thanks,” he smiled thinly at me. “It’s nice to see you out of the morgue for a change.”
Lifting my half empty mug, I returned the smile just as unenthusiastically. “I needed to recharge my batteries.”
Stephen leaned up on his tiptoes to peer over the rim. “You’re almost out. Want me to get you some more? I can make you a cup out of my special stash.”
The one thing I hated most about coffee was that it kept me up at night. When I slept, my body shut down, and I was able to block out everything around me, preferring the darkness when I closed my eyes to the light blinding me every morning. “No, thanks. I’m going to finish this and head downstairs. I’ll page you both when the prints come in.”
I turned away without another word.
***
Lilah Evans stood in the morgue when I returned, the pretty blonde waiting by the medical counter. Flashing a small smile, she gave me ample room to move around and set down my mug. I glanced over the items I had stacked across the counter. Good, nothing’s out of place. Good for me, good for her. Clearing my throat, I tried to focus. “Hello, Lilah.”
“Hey, I was hoping maybe you had the blood results from my victim.”
It was funny how Lilah’s use of hope always came across as expectancy to me. Luckily for her, if there was one thing I hated most, it was having a body on one of my slabs and not knowing a single thing about how it got there.
Pulling a manila file off the counter, I handed it to her. “Tox screen showed significant traces of GHB in her system.”
“The date rape drug?”
“Yes.” I walked over to the body on the nearest slab and pulled back the white sheet. Lilah followed, glancing intermittently between the file and the body. “Cause of death was internal bleeding. The bruising and swelling around her organs suggest it resulted from blunt force trauma to the chest. Her attacker made sure your victim was way past the ability to defend herself before he or she started to abuse her.”
“He or she?” Her attention snapped back to me. “You said it was GHB.”
Petty of me, but I enjoyed confusing people. There was enjoyment in seeing them repeat things the way trained birds do. I slid the sheet over the woman’s face. “Your victim was sexually assaulted, but I found no evidence of semen in her vaginal cavity or on her body. The marks located on the inside of her thighs and inside her vaginal cavity were made by a sharp, studded object. Anyone, male or female, over one hundred and twenty-five pounds would be able to inflict this kind of damage to a person of smaller size with the right amount of force especially if the victim is momentarily incapacitated.”
Lilah shut the folder and tucked it under her arm. “So, how have you been?”
Interesting change in topic, Lilah. Somehow, we shifted from the topic of a dead corpse to me. I almost laughed at the irony. She would never find the humor in it or appreciate it the way I did. No one would, that’s why I worked alone. My lips twitched in amusement. She didn’t notice. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I stepped away from the metal table. “How’s your son Luke? I noticed him in the break room the other day. He’s at least ten feet taller than the last time I saw him.”
She flashed me a bright, happy smile that completely transformed her entire face. It was hard not to be captivated by the simple act of her mask falling away from the mere mention of something she loved more than her own life. Just another thing we didn’t have in common.
“He’s great, growing like a weed and doing great in school. It was rough for a while, but you know how kids can be.”
I don’t. I hardly know that much about adults.
Lilah continued to talk, oblivious to my discomfort. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for the other day when you kept him company. I didn’t mean to come in so late from that crime scene, but Director Malone was riding me to get the job done as soon as possible..”
“Don’t mention it. We had an interesting chat about sports cars and video games.”
When she laughed, I forced myself to laugh as well. Interesting wasn’t exactly how I would describe the experience, but the word was a better choice than saying it was excruciating. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her son or that it was a life-threatening ordeal, but when it came to the subject of children, I tended to steer clear of it. Children were so full of innocence and trust that it made me flinch. Nothing in the world should ever be that way, but Mother Nature eventually corrected its mistake by the time the child matured into an adult. I guess that’s why so many people ended up jaded and miserable.
“I’ll tell him you said hello.”
I forced myself to remain smiling. “Let me know if I can be of any more assistance."
The door swung shut softly behind her. My smile vanished. I momentarily closed my eyes and allowed the silence of the morgue to sweep over me before I sprang into action again, locating my face mask and rubber gloves. No sense in standing around wasting time. There were bodies to cut up and mysteries to solve.
***
On my days off, I made sure to keep busy. I signed up at a gym close to my apartment a month ago; at first using it as a cover to show the outside world that I cared about something other than my job. Adrian suggested it once when he noticed my timecard. I had to be careful, so I took his advice.
Membership did its job of diverting his attention away from his concern, and it helped me relax. Out of everyone at work, I needed to watch him the closest. Adrian had the unbelievable ability to notice the tiniest thing out of the ordinary. I remained puzzled at times as to why I was still on the safe side of the yellow tape, but I never looked a gift horse in the mouth. No, I merely feed it what it craves in exchange for its blind eye. See, not all partnerships were doomed to failure.
It was only after I had gone several times in a span of two weeks that I realized I was enjoying the unlimited equipment access. A rigorous workout soon became necessary in my life, a way to force any remaining energy or frustration out of me that had built up during the week and be perfectly excused by society. It explains why there are so many health freaks in the world. It has absolutely nothing to do with losing weight.
I arrived at the twenty-four-hour gym at exactly eight in the morning and was pleased to see it not too crowded. It didn’t take me long to find a locker and within twenty minutes, my sneakers were soundly hitting the belt on the treadmill. I jammed my headphones into my ears just to fit in with the people exercising around me, but I kept the device turned off, concentrating on the sound of my feet instead. Random conversations fluttered around in the background, but I barely paid them any longer than seconds worth of attention before returning to my own little world.
It wasn’t until I caught sight of a familiar face in the mirror positioned across from me that I lost focus on my actions. Johnny Cooper was several machines behind me dressed in a black wife beater and black workout shorts working reps on the weight bench.
I looked away. Johnny was a hardworking man with a big heart, an excellent crime scene analyst, but it was because of those facts, I avoided him at all costs outside of necessity. Almost two years ago, he had been involved in a hostage situation gone horribly wrong, and the result of us losing the young victim left him emotionally scarred. Glimmers of the old Johnny still shone through for the most part, but every now and then I saw something that clicked with a deeper part of me, a part I didn’t want connecting at all. I kept my distance, the conversations casual and polite and watched for any sign that he needed redirecting.
Seeing him at that moment made me hesitate. The last thing I needed was for him to see me. I lowered my gaze and continued to run until my legs ached. I was breathing hard by the time I jumped off the treadmill, but I didn’t pause to regain any sort of balance before I turned to head to the locker room.
Johnny blocked my path, his blue eyes locked on mine, and a smile already on his face. “Hey, you.”
I acted as if I was surprised to see him. “Hey, Johnny. I didn’t know you were a member here.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve worked out. When did you join?”
I hate awkward conversations. I hate conversations period. “Last month.” I glanced around. “I’ve been busy with work. I’m not here a lot.” Smooth. Great lie, way to go. Shut up! No, talk about work, mutual ground!
“I haven’t seen you lately. Does Adrian have you on special assignment or something?”
His smile deepened, and I internally screamed every explicative in the book I knew at myself. Way to sound like you have a small calendar with his schedule on it.
“I had to attend a seminar in Los Angeles for a few days. I flew back yesterday and was feeling a bit restless, so I decided to work out for a few hours.”
“Well, don’t worry; I’m sure there are tons of cases waiting for you at the office.” Oh, my God, what am I saying?
I had to get out of there, away from him and away from the situation before I broke out into hives or something worse like a plague. “I should get going.”
“I was on my way out. Have you eaten breakfast?”
This is what it feels like to be on a stage and have a giant spotlight burning out your retinas. I swallowed and blinked. Either time slowed down, or he’s been waiting on me to say something. I blinked again. Yep, he’s still waiting. “I haven’t eaten.”
“There’s a small dinner just up the road if you’re interested. I can meet you there, or you can ride with me.”
I blinked yet again, momentarily wondering if I looked like a fish out of water that very second, all flapping jaw and moving eyelids. “I need to get my bag out of my locker and change. I’ll just meet you there.” What in the world are you doing?
***
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in a small dinner off the strip, menus opened, and attention directed downwards at the large print found there.
“Are you okay?”
Well, my attention was directed downwards at least. I squinted at Johnny. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been rubbing your head.” He motioned at his forehead. “Do you have a headache?”
I considered telling him the truth. Yes, I have a headache from ramming my head into my locker door. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to knock any sense into me. I lowered my hand to my lap and forced a smile onto my face. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
He nodded and glanced at his menu. “The grilled cheese sandwiches are good here.”
I stared at the top of his closely shaved head.
Johnny looked up and smiled. “What are you in the mood for?”
My grip tightened around the sides of the menu.
“Everything is really good here if you’re not interested in a grilled cheese.”
Food was the last thing on my mind. In fact, even if I ordered, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to keep it down. To be truthful, I avoided him like a disease not solely because of fear from connection but from a fear of finding out exactly how deep it went. Sure, I could do the relationship thing, build another façade to my ever-growing fake resume, but keeping up my current appearance and hobbies was enough of a trick as it was.
I forced myself to order food, settling on a chicken salad and water, before handing the waitress the menu. He held nothing back, ordering a stack of pancakes with bacon, scrambled eggs, two links of sausage, and a side of hashbrowns.
He caught my wide-eyed expression as the waitress walked away from our table. “I’m a growing boy.”
“If you’re not careful, it’s going to be out, not up.” Way to open your mouth and insert your foot.
I was surprised when he laughed and nodded quickly. “I can’t tell you how many times I heard that from my mother when I was a kid. I’m lucky I seem to have a high metabolism.”
“It doesn’t hurt you work out like the devil is whipping you at the gym.”
“And here I was thinking you hadn’t noticed me until I approached you.”
I hated several things at that moment. I hated he was a good guy, and I had no reason to put him on my kill list. I hated that I hated that, and most of all, I hated that I was suddenly smiling at him. I must be coming down with something, maybe it’s some bizarre strand of airborne syphilis.
“Maybe I’m making the assumption based on your work ethic.”
“I’m flattered you’ve even noticed. You always keep to yourself in the morgue, and you usually only come up for coffee.”
Looks like I’m not the only one noticing things. “It’d be strange if I was upstairs all the time. I doubt Adrian would appreciate me doing my autopsies on the break room table.”
Johnny laughed and sat against the booth cushion. “I say give it a shot; he’s always putting his experiments in our community fridge. What’s one more dead thing added to the pile?”
Something about what he said made me tap my fingers against the tabletop. Yes, what’s one more dead thing? I cleared my throat. Am I doing that a lot? Can he hear me swallowing?
Suddenly, I hated the situation. I was finding it difficult to think of a single thing to say to him that wouldn’t make me sound like I was from another planet. Thankfully, he beat me to the punch.
“What made you want to be a coroner?”
Oh, here we go. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. What’s the meaning of life, Angela? What’s your favorite color? Are your breasts real? Okay, maybe not so much with the last question considering I’m talking about Johnny, but you get the drift of how much I dread the whole act of conversing. I cleared my throat again. “I don’t know.”
His eyebrows rose. “You don’t know?”
“Well, it’s not like I woke up one day and decided I wanted to work with dead bodies.”
It’s more like I woke up and wanted to chop them into pieces. I wonder if his eyebrows would go up any further if I said that. I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve always been interested in forensic medicine, discovered I was good at it and after suffering through endless college courses, here I am.”
“I’m not sure how you do it day after day; having to cut up people and find out what went wrong. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the fact you do but it must be hard.”
Great, even when you blabber, you’re attractive. I must think of something to get the topic of conversation off me, anything but me please. “What made you want to be a CSA?”
“I’ve always wanted to help people; help those that can’t help themselves.”
Damn it, that’s a good answer. I need to remember that one for next time. “Las Vegas is definitely the place to do that.”
“My parents thought I was crazy for coming out here, but they understood.” The muscle in his jaw jumped as he clamped his teeth together. “Despite things that have happened, they still understand.”
I pretended I didn’t notice his sudden lapse in attention as he got lost in memories, and I waited until he focused back on me.
“What brought you to Vegas?”
The spotlight blinded me again. “I needed a change of scenery, and the crime lab needed an assistant coroner.”
He studied me for a minute with a soft smile. “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
Wow, a man that finally notices. “I’m sorry; I just don’t find myself all that interesting.”
“I find you very interesting.”
“You don’t know me well enough to find me interesting.”
“I invited you to lunch to get to know you better. So far, so good.”
I was reminded again that Johnny was a kindhearted, well-mannered man, but he could be a real cocky snake in the grass when he wanted to be. I should have said no from the very beginning, I must be losing my touch.
I debated on calling him out on his ‘getting to know all about you’ plan. I considered going ahead and shooting him down, but I was hesitant, not willing to make the situation more awkward than it already was for that matter. As if a miracle from above, my cell phone started going off in my bag. I quickly excused myself and scrambled for it, frowning as I looked down at the screen.
He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Excuse me a second.” I swiped to answer the call, pausing when a familiar voice spoke on the other end. “Yes? Okay. Ten minutes. Alright, bye.”
Leaning into his seat, he watched me as the food appeared at our table, the waitress sliding our plates in front of us. She disappeared, and I tore my gaze away from her retreating figure to return my attention to Johnny. “I have to go.”
“Let me guess, work?”
I nodded and shoved my phone into my bag. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You’ll just have to find a way to make it up to me.”
I highly doubt that is going to happen. “You bet.”
He smiled wider this time and shifted to motion at the waitress. “Check please!”
***
By the time I managed to leave the restaurant with a takeout box, the traffic was bumper to bumper, the time almost one in the afternoon. I pulled up to the crime scene in my SUV five minutes later than I said I would be there. I shut my door, pausing to open the door behind the driver’s seat and pull out my kit and jacket. I had barely shrugged it when Stephen appeared out of nowhere.
“Angel! Isn’t it your day off?”
I shut the car door. “Guess someone forgot to tell your perp.”
“Guess so,” He grinned and slipped his arm casually through mine. “Bet you’ll be happy when Doc returns on Friday.”
"Sure.” I broke away as I spotted Adrian talking to Henry near the section that was taped off, tourists and residents of the small apartment complex crowded the area around them. I muttered a quick thanks to the cop that lifted the crime scene tape for me.
“Sorry to do this to you, Angela,” Adrian greeted me. “I know it's your off day, but as you know, we're a bit shorthanded this week."
I glanced past them. "Where's the body?"
“Inside, come on.” Henry gently grabbed my elbow to direct me through the apartment complex doors. I shot him a warning look, but he didn’t seem to notice, and as we approached an apartment to our left, he motioned me to go first. “Watch your step.”
I stepped through the open doorway. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t done it so quickly. I didn’t want to appear too eager, that was never good; it always roused suspicion in the people that watched for that type of thing, and analysts were exactly those kinds of people. “Is this it?”
He didn’t move from the doorway. “Yeah, victim’s sister found her like this thirty minutes ago. Said she was scared to touch the body, but she’s pretty sure her sister was still alive when she called 911.”
I ground my teeth together and bent down next to the body. For a minute, I did nothing but stare at the young woman as she laid face down on the floor, cheek pressed against the carpet with her dead, unseeing eyes looking straight at me. A pretty woman with long red hair and pale skin, she couldn’t be any older than twenty-two years old at the most.
Pity. I shifted my eyes past her face. Someone stabbed her multiple times in the back before changing tactics and directing their weapon all over her body. At a first glance, I knew she had bled out, her fingernails still clinging to the carpet as if she had been fighting to crawl to the door.
I slipped my thermometer from my bag and grabbed my clipboard. It was time to go to work.
