Page 64 of The Drowned Woman
He peered through the front window. No signs of anyone home or any disturbance. Which meant he had no probable cause to enter the house. He went back down the porch steps but stopped before reaching the sidewalk. There was another walkway alongside the driveway that led to the backyard. A white-washed privacy fence surrounded it, but the gate was open. Luka debated the consequences of trespassing, decided they were minor, and went through.
“Mr. Rademacher?” he called out as he followed the narrow walkway down the side of the house. He looked inside the windows as he went—nothing of note except what appeared to be remnants of a half-eaten sandwich on the kitchen table.
Approaching the backyard, he could see the framing of a deck and steps down to a flagstone patio. He stopped. Death came with a particular sensation, one that started with a metallic taste high up in the back of the throat, long before any scent alerted a person.
Luka moved forward slowly, watching where he stepped. Each inhalation heightened his awareness, his instinct that death was near. The crows pecking at the corpse floating face down in the hot tub confirmed it.
Thirty-Eight
Leah finished her exam and stepped outside to allow Risa some privacy as she changed back into her clothes. Nothing on Risa’s physical had helped to either confirm or deny her suspicions. Across the hall, Harper and Maggie Chen huddled together at the nursing station.
“What’s up?” Leah asked. “Did something happen?”
“McKinley’s on his way for Saliba’s interview,” Harper answered. “I’m just waiting for him and helping Maggie with her math.”
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t add up.” Maggie turned to Leah. “The water in the car trunk where Cliff was found was forty-nine degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Not very cold. Probably part of the reason why we couldn’t get him back.”
“Forty-nine degrees sounds pretty damn cold to me,” Harper said. “I thought cold water was supposed to buy him more time.”
“Very cold water as in near freezing. Especially when associated with sudden immersion,” Maggie explained.
“Like a kid falling through the ice on a frozen pond,” Leah added. “In that situation, even with a prolonged down time, sometimes you have a chance. But not with a slow submersion in not-so cold water.”
“Okay, so the odds were against Cliff from the start. You guys did everything you could. So what’s the problem, Maggie?” Harper tapped the notepad where the death investigator had been scribbling calculations. “You keep saying the math is off. Your algebra—”
“Algor mortis,” Maggie corrected. “The cooling of the body postmortem.” She tapped her phone where an app was displayed. “I’ve input every variable into the Henssge equation. Water temp, resuscitation efforts at rewarming, his BMI. Nothing adds up.”
“Those formulas might not be accurate since he died so recently,” Leah said, wondering at Maggie’s level of concern.
“Right,” Harper said. “In fact, sometimes there’s no obvious cooling of the body for a few hours after death.” Both Leah and Maggie turned to stare at her. “Hey, I’ve read Sutherland’s textbook, too. Besides, we already know the time of death—we were all watching it happen, live. Vogel died at 9:21 a.m.”
Maggie shook her head, her robin’s egg blue hair sparking in the overhead lights. “No. That’s the problem. Everything in my calculations says that Cliff died in the middle of the night. Hours before that video went live.”
Now it was Harper and Leah’s turn to frown in confusion.
“Lies,” Leah muttered. “Somehow the killer must have faked the time stamp, made it appear to be live-streamed.”
“Sonofabitch set us up—had us on a wild goose chase while he was escaping.” Harper grabbed her phone. “Sanchez? Could the time stamp on the video have been altered? Well, get the camera CSU found inside the trunk and find out. Please. It’s important.” She hung up. “He said he can’t tell until he examines the camera, but it is theoretically possible.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Got to go. McKinley’s here and he doesn’t look happy.”
Leah stood as well and followed Harper’s glance to the ER entrance. McKinley’s rosacea was flaring, and his expression was just as angry. Leah got the distinct impression that the ERT commander was not enjoying his time taking over Luka’s detective squad.
“Saliba ready for her interview?” he asked when he spotted Harper and Leah.
“Yes. I’ve got everything set up in the CIC interview room,” Leah told him.
“Good. Harper, you monitor and record. Dr. Wright, you take lead. I want an exact accounting of everything Risa Saliba knows or suspects about Chaos—every detail, no matter how small. We need to get ahead of this guy.”
“Sir.” Harper suddenly sounded tentative. Then she took a breath and straightened her shoulders. “Maggie Chen, the death investigator—” She nodded toward the trauma bay where Maggie had gone to prepare Cliff’s body for transport to the morgue. “She thinks maybe Vogel was killed much earlier than we’d assumed. Like hours earlier.”
“What’s Tierney or the ME say?” McKinley demanded.
“Nothing yet,” Harper admitted. “But—”
McKinley silenced her with a scowl. Then he turned back to Leah. “I’ll be waiting in the CIC. Bring Saliba and let’s get this over with.”
Leah watched him march away. “I’m guessing there’s a reason why McKinley isn’t a big fan of Maggie?” Or vice-versa, given the way Maggie had escaped as soon as she caught sight of McKinley.
