victim, still unidentified, is found on the grave of a young woman who was also murdered.
Murdered, it is believed, by Kenneth Beckman.
'Let's check her hands,' Byrne said.
Byrne lifted the victim's right hand, checked it. Nothing. He circled the body, gently lifted her left hand. There, on the index finger, was a small tattoo. Instead of a lion, this time it was a rooster.
Jessica took a few photographs, her heart starting to race. She glanced over at Byrne. He wore an expression she had come to know well over the years, one that barely contained a cold rage.
Byrne squatted next to the body and began to undo the paper that wrapped the victim's head.
'Kevin, the ME's office is on the way,' Jessica said. 'You should wait.'
'Yeah, well, I should be living in Cazumel with the Corr sisters, too,' Byrne said. 'I don't see either of these things happening.'
Byrne gently unwrapped the victim's head, carefully removing the wax seal first and dropping it into a small evidence bag. The first thing that Jessica noticed when the paper was removed was that the laceration across the forehead, and the puncture wound, were in almost the same places as they'd been with the first victim.
The second thing Jessica noticed was that the dead woman was Sharon Beckman.
Chapter 20
The feelings coursed through Byrne, sensations that grew exponentially. He paced like an animal.
He stepped behind a tree as the feeling surged, filling his head like an onrush of water from a broken dam. It was followed by a moment of vertigo. He steadied himself, tried to wait it out, trying not to notice as…
… the man walks across the cemetery in darkness… he is strong… the dead weight of Sharon Beckman's body is nothing to him
… he does not search for the grave site, he knows where it is. He is familiar with this cemetery, all cemeteries. He places her on the ground, steels himself. He is not quite finished. He leaps into the air, and bears down with great force, breaking the dead woman's leg, positioning it back because it means something to him and…
Byrne opened his eyes, got his bearings. He had forgotten where he was, what he was doing. This was getting bad.
The crime scene swarmed with people. Byrne glanced at his watch. It had only been ten seconds. It felt like an hour.
He walked back to the grave site. Information had trickled in about the second body. This had been found in a Dumpster behind a building at Second and Poplar. According to the initial report the victim, a middle-aged male, had been found nude, his forehead wrapped in white paper, his body clean of all hair.
Three bodies in two days. This case was about to break wide open. Wall-to-wall TV and print news, perhaps even national attention. There was a ghoul on the streets of Philadelphia, a monster who was strangling people, shaving their bodies and marking their flesh. When they had found Kenneth Beckman's body they had all hoped that it was an isolated incident, that it was some sort of personal vendetta. It was not. It was bigger than that. There were now three corpses, and everyone had the nasty feeling that there would be more.
Byrne approached Jessica. 'I have that MRI. I have to go.'
'We've got this covered,' Jessica said. 'Don't worry.'
Byrne did not want to leave. The first two hours were the most critical time of a homicide investigation. After that, memories faded, people thought better of getting involved, forensic evidence had a way of giving itself back to nature. Although neither he nor Jessica were the lead investigator on this case, every warm body was critical.
'Kevin,' Jessica said. 'Go to your appointment.'
'I want to stop by the other scene first. This is out of control.'
'I'll go,' Jessica said. 'You don't have to-'
But Byrne was already on his way. He held his cellphone up as he walked back to the car. 'Call me,' he said.
Leaving the cemetery, Byrne saw the names of the dead carved in time-weathered stone, dates marking fleeting lives, parentheses of birth and death. Out of respect, out of the disquieting knowledge that one day someone would be walking on his final resting place, he did his best to avoid stepping on the graves.
Chapter 21
At first it is a muffled sound, like that of a wounded animal. I hear it the moment I step inside the room. It soon becomes crystal clear.
I will not be here long. I have much to do. I may be a poor cartwright, but my marchioness awaits.
I am not alone in this room. There are others here. We are all part of something, fractions of a whole. They talk to me, to each other, but I don't hear them. I hear what happened here years ago.
I stand in the corner, close my eyes. The scene unfolds, like a stage play viewed through frosted glass, two figures forever mired in a dark and terrible vignette.
She is a shy girl, no more than eleven. She has long blonde hair, woven into a braid.
'Who are you? Are you a friend of my mom's?'
'Yes. We are old friends.'
'You shouldn't be here.'
'It's okay. I like your dress. It is very pretty.'
'Thank you.'
'I have a prettier dress. One made especially for you.'
'For me?'
'Oh yes. It is your favorite color.'
'Blue?'
'A very pretty blue.'
'Can I see it?'
'In time.''
'Where do you know my mom from?'
'We work together.'
'My mom doesn't work anymore.'
'This was from before. From a long time ago.'
'Okay.'
'Do you know the story of Eve?'
'Eve?'
'Yes. Eve in the Garden of Eden. Eve who was tempted by an apple.'
The blade removed from its sheath the creak of worn leather the sound of a little heart beating in fear 'I don't want you here anymore.'
'I won't hurt you.'
'I want you to leave, mister.'
'Don't you want your pretty new dress?'
'No.'
The blade shimmers in the bright afternoon sunlight 'I'm going to get my sister. I want you to leave now.'
The blade flutters and darts soaring high into the air 'Eve.'
The neighbors say they heard one scream that day, an unearthly wail that cooled the blood in their veins.
I hear it, too.
