Page 5 of Beneath the Scars

With his usual blunt yet endearing bulldozing, Karl lumbers over to the small speaker dock and puts on music to cover the tense silence.

The food is greasy, good, and hits the spot, and by the time I've had my share, I'm feeling better. Maybe Agent Scott isn't as much of an asshole, and I just needed to stop skipping meals.

Or maybe—I complete my thought while looking him up and down—he is the stereotypical FBI asshole who lumbers in, takes over, bosses around all the locals, and then takes the credit for the collar. He certainly looks like it.

"You're sure this is your guy?" I ask him as I throw away my trash. Agent Scott, in turn, pushes away from the filing cabinet he had perched himself against to move over to the autopsy table where Karl is already waiting for us.

"Everything points to it. I'm waiting to see if your report on Mr. Butler here matches our previous victims." He shrugs off his suit jacket, carefully lying it on a spare table before rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Trying to figure out what the hell the man is up to, I unabashedly stare as he washes his hands and grabs some gloves from the box on the tray containing all our tools.

"Uh... Agent Scott?" I call out. "Are you planning on doing this autopsy with me?"

The man has the decency to blush before shrugging in response. "Sorry. I won't interfere. But if you find what I think you will, I'd rather be ready to get my hands on the evidence."

Intrigued by his response I follow his lead and get cleaned up. Karl is ready with everything I'll need, and together, we move through the motions without needing to say more than the basic observations. We have a camera set up to take a video of everything we are doing, which I've found makes it easier should I need something to go back on later.

Along with Karl making careful notes of all the finer details it doesn't take us long to open up the victim and work through the preliminary evidence collection.

"We will send the blood sample along with the stomach contents to the lab for testing," I explain to Agent Scott as Karl packages up everything we've collected and calls the police station to have the stuff picked up. Now, do you want to tell me what I'm looking for before I get deeper into this guy's business?"

"The unsub has a signature other than the genital mutilation and taking out the tongue. But we've been reluctant to release it to the press to avoid copycats."

"Well, I assure you, Agent Scott, both Karl and I, as county employees, are prohibited from discussing any details of ongoing investigations with the press." It is a struggle to keep the annoyance out of my voice now. I've tried to listen to my inner Becky and give the guy the benefit of the doubt. And he's been careful and quiet throughout the whole process thus far. But there is no reason for him to withhold information from us. Especially not if it hinders us from doing our job.

"I'm aware, Doctor. It's not that I'm worried you will say anything. It's just that each victim thus far has had their tongue and uh...membersremoved, but it hasn't been taken as a trophy as the bureau has made it sound."

The put-together and–from all outward appearances–confident man seems to be stumbling over his words about what he has to tell me next, and it only makes me more curious to learn what he has to share.

"Okay?" I push.

"Can we turn the victim over, ma'am?" he asks instead of answering my question. Recognizing a stubborn streak when I see one, I motion to Karl to give me a hand. Thus far, we haven't done any X-rays or internal examinations. When we turn Mr. Butler over I instantly realize what Agent Scott wants us to do.

At a cursory glance, nothing seems amiss. However, if I pay close enough attention, it's clear that there appears to be some perimortem bruising around the victim's ass cheeks.

Without waiting for further instructions from Agent Scott, I push apart the cheeks. The victim has definitely been assaulted. Not only that, but something is very clearly left in his rectum.

Being careful not to damage whatever was shoved inside the poor man's ass, I use one of my forceps to open him up a little further to get a better idea of what I'm dealing with. Whatever it is, it seems to be wrapped in plastic. Whether it is to protect it from the blood or the patient's bodily fluids or because it might make for easier insertion, I don't know.

But when I get it out, there's no doubt what it is.

The killer had made up a dildo of sorts from the victim's cock, tongue, and some kind of rolled-up card.

Admittedly, I haven't been doing this job for decades like my boss or predecessor, but I've been working in my basement for almost ten years. And I've never seen anything like this before.

I hand the parcel over to Karl, who's looking a little paler than usual, but he takes it and carefully places it in one of our trays. Agent Scott moves over to the tray while Karl carefully cuts open the homemade torture device.

The card is bright yellow and laminated. Brilliant, seeing as it's wrapped around a bloody, flaccid dick and a thick hacked-off tongue.

I have first-hand experience of how fucked up people can be, but even this is a shock to my system, but from the grim look on Agent Scott's face, he was expecting this.

Karl hands him the laminated card, and I'm dying to know what it says, but it's not my place, and unless it will change the outcome of my autopsy, I have no reason to demand to see it.

"How many of these bodies have you found?" I ask instead.

His light blue eyes zero in on me, holding me in place with his stare. "Too many."

Chapter Five

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