brought them to their task. Maggie preferred to view an autopsy only as a fact-finding mission, the soul or spirit long gone by the time the body lay on the cold metal table. The best thing for the victim at this stage was a search for evidence that could help catch whoever had committed such an act. Although this time, she knew there would be little Hannah could tell them that would bring them any closer to finding Albert Stucky.
“I heard you ended up with the dog.”
It took Maggie a minute to realize Dr. Holmes was talking to her and not speaking for the recorder. When she didn’t answer immediately, he looked up and smiled.
“He seemed like a good dog. Tough son of a bitch to survive whoever stabbed him.”
“Yes, he is.”
How could she have forgotten about Harvey? Already she wasn’t a very good dog owner. Greg had been right about her. She had no room for anything or anyone else in her life.
“That reminds me. May I use your phone?”
“Over in the corner, on the wall.”
She had to stop and try to remember what her new phone number was. Before she dialed, she took off her latex gloves and wiped her forehead with the sleeve of the borrowed gown. Even the telephone receiver smelled of Lysol. She punched in the numbers and listened to it ring, feeling guilty that she had completely forgotten. She certainly wouldn’t blame Nick if he had been angry enough to leave. She checked her wristwatch. It was a quarter past ten.
“Hello?”
“Nick? It’s Maggie.”
“Hey, are you all right?”
He sounded concerned, not a hint of anger. Maybe she shouldn’t expect his reactions and responses to be similar to Greg’s.
“I’m okay. It wasn’t Tess.”
“Good. I was kinda worried that Will would flip out if it was.”
“I’m at the county morgue, assisting with the autopsy.” She paused, waiting to hear some sign of anger. “Nick, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay, Maggie.”
“I might be a couple more hours.” Again, she paused. “I know I ruined our plans…your dinner.”
“Maggie, it’s not your fault. This is what you do. Harvey and I went ahead and ate. We saved you some. It’ll warm up fine in your microwave whenever you’re ready for it.”
He was being so understanding. Why was he being so understanding? She didn’t know how to respond to this.
“Maggie? Are you sure you’re okay?”
She’d left too much of a pause.
“Just very tired. And I am sorry I missed having dinner with you.”
“Me too. Do you want me to stay with Harvey until you get back?”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Nick. I don’t even know for sure how late I’ll be.”
“I carry around an old sleeping bag in my trunk. Would you mind if I crashed here for the night?”
For some reason the thought of Nick Morrelli sleeping in her huge and empty house brought an incredible feeling of comfort.
“Maybe it’s not such a good idea,” he added quickly, misreading her hesitation.
“No, it’s a good idea. Harvey would really like that.” She had done it again, disguising her true emotions— careful not to reveal a thing. It had become habit. “I’d really like it, too,” she said, surprising herself.
“Be careful driving home.”
“I will. Oh, and Nick.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to always reset the alarm system after you’ve taken Harvey out. And there’s a Glock 40 caliber in the bottom desk drawer. Remember to shut the blinds. If you need—”
“Maggie. I’ll be just fine. You concentrate on taking care of you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
She hung up the phone and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and feeling the exhaustion and a chill seep into her bones. She needed to ignore the strong urge to leave now. To go home and curl up with Nick in front of a warm, crackling fire. She could still remember what it had felt like to fall asleep in his arms, though it had happened only once and that was over five months ago. He had comforted her and tried to shield her from her nightmares. And for a few hours, it had worked. But there was nothing Nick Morrelli could do to help her escape Stucky. These days Albert Stucky seemed to be in everything she touched and everyplace she went.
She looked back at the metal table with the woman’s gray body splayed open. Dr. Holmes was now removing organs, one by one, weighing and measuring them like a butcher preparing different cuts of meat. She tucked her hair behind her ears, pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and joined him.
“Not easy having a life of your own in this business, is it?” He didn’t look up as he continued to cut.
“It’s certainly not a life for a dog. I’m never home. Poor Harvey.”
“Well, he’s still better off with you. From what I understand, Sidney Endicott is an idiot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had murdered his wife and stashed her body somewhere so we’ll never find it.”
“Is that the direction Manx is going?”
“I have no idea. Take a look at the muscle tissue here and here.” He pointed to the layers he had cut through.
Maggie only glanced at the area. She was wondering if the medical examiner realized that what he said regarding Mr. Endicott would be caught on tape. But what if he was right? Maybe Stucky hadn’t taken Rachel Endicott. Perhaps her husband did have something to do with her disappearance, although it seemed much too easy. Suddenly she realized Dr. Holmes was staring at her over the bifocals that had slipped down to the tip of his nose.
“I’m sorry, what was it you were looking at?”
He pointed again, and immediately she could see that there was hemorrhage in the muscle tissue. She leaned against the counter behind her and felt the anger swelling up inside her again.
“If there’s this much hemorrhage in the muscle tissue it has to mean—”
“Yes, I know,” she stopped him. “It means she was still alive when he started cutting her.”
He nodded and returned to his task, quickly and expertly tying string to each of the arteries as he cut, leaving generous lengths for the local mortician who would later use these same arteries when he or she injected the embalming fluids. Then with both hands, Dr. Holmes carefully scooped out the woman’s heart and set it on the scale. “Heart looks to be in good condition,” he said for the recorder. “Weight is 8.3 ounces.”
While he dunked the organ in a container of formaldehyde, Maggie forced herself to take a closer look at the incision Stucky had made. Now that she could look into the body cavity, she could follow the path. His precision continued to amaze her. He had extracted the woman’s uterus and ovaries as though it had been a surgical procedure. On the counter at the other end of the room lay his handiwork, still enclosed in the plastic take-out container that the truck driver had had the misfortune of picking up.
Dr. Holmes looked at what had drawn her attention. On his way back from the sink, he brought the container with him and set it on the table with their instruments. He flipped open the lid and began examining the contents.
The intercom on the wall buzzed, and Maggie jumped.
“It’s probably Detective Rosen. He said he’d stop by if they found anything.” He headed for the door, removing his gloves.
“Wait, are you sure?” She couldn’t believe he’d open the door without checking first. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”
“Yep, it sure is,” he said, stopping and looking at her over his shoulder. “But in case you didn’t notice earlier, I think Rosen has developed a crush on you.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, I didn’t think you noticed.” He smiled but didn’t wait to explain, instead turning the dead bolt without
