Page 18 of Hide and Seek
There are six bodies awaiting autopsies. Four men and two women, and out of all of them, we have four murders, and two assumed natural deaths. The natural deaths will more than likely be covered by Dr. Sanders during tomorrow’s day shift. She loves her job, but she’s a sweet soul, and sometimes these darker murder cases can be too much for her. On the other hand, I thrive on the darkness.
Out of the four murders, one is particularly brutal, and I instinctively reach for that file. What can I say? I have a depraved little soul that needs to be fed.
I flip through the notes and familiarize myself with the case just as another soft beep sounds through the morgue. My head snaps up, and with Vincent wrapping up for the night, I don’t get the same vicious fear pulsing through my veins as I had when I was alone.
The door is opened wide, and the familiar sound of a gurney rolling on the linoleum tells me that I have another incoming body. I let out a sigh. We’re already stockpiling bodies, and at this rate, we’ll never get through it all.
“Jesus,” I mutter, watching Detective Gray stride in with the coroner, both of them wearing grim expressions, telling me this isn’t just another natural death. This is another murder, and a horrifying one at that. “What is going on with the crime in this city? There’s more murder than there is natural death.”
Detective Gray lets out a heavy sigh as he signs off for delivery of the body. I do the same as the coroner lines the body up with my autopsy table, and after initialing for delivery, I take the end of the body bag and help transport the body over.
“I’m sorry to ask,” Detective Gray says, sounding as though it’s been one hell of a long night. “I know you’re slammed, but this case . . . It has left a lot of us rattled. If there’s any way we could get this report as a matter of urgency, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Oh, sure,” I say, already scooping up the other case file and dropping it back on top of my ever-growing pile of work.
“Thanks, Dr. Madden.”
“Of course,” I say, giving him an awkward smile. I’ve worked alongside him for what feels like years, and apart from him stopping by to demand reports, I don’t really know a damn thing about him. “I’ll get it done through the night, and I’m sure Dr. McKullan will be in touch come morning.”
Detective Gray smiles tightly and nods before hastily getting out of here with the coroner tight on his heels, not even bothering to give me any details on the case. What’s up with that? The two of them have probably been at the crime scene for hours, and I can guarantee the coroner already has a fair idea of the cause of death, yet they share nothing.
Frustration trickles in as I scoop the file off the top of the body before flipping through the details. Without any more small talk, Vincent scurries to pack up. He’s not super fond of dead bodies. In fact, he makes it a point not to come in here while I’m working. We learned that the hard way in the form of vomit splattered from one end of the morgue to the other. Since then, we go out of our way to ensure he doesn’t accidentally see human brains cut open on the table.
Vincent rushes out a hasty goodbye, and I offer him a quick wave, my attention already focused on the work in front of me. The files are barren, and it pisses me off. Twenty-two-year-old male. That’s it. No other details to go on. Considering Detective Gray’s urgency to get the final report, I assumed he’d have given me more to start with.
No location listed, no rundown on weapons or substances found at the scene, and nothing about why the hell they both looked so grim. It’s unprofessional and screams that the job was rushed. Were they so desperate for answers that they didn’t take the time to write down literally anything? Shit. If they want to catch this guy’s killer and make a charge stick, then making sure everything is done correctly is an absolute priority. Detective Gray knows better than this.
My gaze turns toward the body bag on the table, and I let out a heavy sigh. “Well,” I say to the body. “If nobody else is going to do right by you, then let me be the one to offer you the respect you deserve.”
And with that, I reach for the zipper at the top of the body bag and drag it down.
7
HARPER-RAYN
“What in the ever-loving fuck is this?”
Horror pulses through my veins as I take in the corpse before me, completely mutilated by some kind of blade. I’ve never seen anything like it. I have documented more than my fair share of stab wounds, but this is different. There are slices cut from the man’s skin, his arms, face, neck, and thighs—all of this before I’ve even had a chance to cut him out of his clothes.
Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down and get on with my job. I wasn’t hired to be the bitch who runs away screaming . . . the other night excluded. I’m a professional, and while this is one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever seen, I can take it. I’m sure there will be a day when I see worse, but for now, I need to do the job I was trained to do.
Putting aside the unease, I look closer at the wounds covering his body before grabbing my camera to properly document everysingle marking on his skin. I get the rest of my tools prepared and quickly get used to the idea that tonight’s shift is going to run long. This isn’t the kind of autopsy that will be over in the standard four hours. This one will keep me here well into the morning.
“Okay,” I tell the body, taking a DNA sample of his saliva and locking it into a jar. “Let’s see if we can figure out what the hell happened to you.”
I start cutting through his shirt when it becomes clear that the blade markings left on his chest are spelling something out and my movements become quicker, needing to know what it says. After reaching the bottom of his shirt, I carefully move the fabric aside. Then as I take in his bare chest, I suck in a disturbed gasp.
“What the actual fuck?” I murmur, reaching for my camera again. “Smile for the camera? Who the hell did this to you?”
I shake my head as I try to comprehend the type of bastard who would leave a message like this on somebody’s skin, and for what purpose? Who is this kitten and why does it have to smile for the camera? Is there something much deeper to all of this?
A shiver sails down my spine, and I can tell the motive behind all of this is going to be despicable. We’re not dealing with the usual run-of-the-mill opportunistic killer. This guy was precise. He planned all of this. All of these markings on the victim were done postmortem, and while I’m glad the victim didn’t have to suffer through that kind of torture, I can’t help but wonder how fucked up one must be to mutilate a dead body to send a message.
I draw my gaze away from the deeply etched words on his skin and begin removing the rest of his clothes. I fold everythingneatly and slide it all into separate evidence bags, along with his shoes, wallet, and jewelry—confirming this was definitely not a mugging gone wrong. Every article has to be meticulously photographed and documented, and once all of the nitty-gritty is out of the way, I can focus on the body.
I start from the head and work my way down, documenting every last gash on his body. I measure the length and depth of each one, and as I reach his chest and start documenting the letters etched into his skin, my stomach clenches.
This is fucked up.
