through the pages. “They think our bad guy has…yeah, here it is… Haematophilia, which means blood gets him off.”
“Well, I think they’re wrong,” I said.
“Ya’know, just because there’s no evidence of rape doesn’t mean the guy didn’t…you know…”
“Masturbate?” Doctor Sanders offered to fill in the expanding void where Ben had gone quiet.
“Yeah, that,” he returned.
“Why are you always so squeamish about sexual acts?” she asked.
“I’m not… It just ain’t polite ta’ talk about it in mixed company.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“Yeah, you’re female too. Like I said, mixed company.”
“Come on, Storm… You can be just plain crass at times. Even when women are around you’ll toss the word ‘fuck’ out there like it’s from a grade school vocabulary test, but you’re getting antsy when it comes to talking about sex?”
“That’s different.”
She shook her head. “You’re an enigma.”
“What can I say?”
“Well, I still say the FBI is wrong,” I announced, trying to bring the conversation back on track. “This wasn’t about sex, including autoeroticism.”
Ben looked over at me and said, “Okay.” Unfortunately, he didn’t sound as if he was convinced.
I cast a sideways glance in his direction. “Why do I get the feeling you’re just humoring me?”
“Sorry, Row.” He shrugged again then shook his head. “Don’t mean it that way… I guess I’m just used to a bit more of a dramatic presentation from ya’.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Well, since I got ya’ both here how ‘bout a second opinion?” my friend asked, aiming his gaze at my wife. “Whadda you think, Firehair? The killer sexually motivated or no?”
“I’m concentrating on something else at the moment,” she replied, her voice flat and distant.
“What?”
“In your words, keeping my sorry ass safe,” I answered for her. “She’s grounding me.”
“Well see there?” Ben made a sweeping gesture at the two of us. “Maybe that’s the problem with your ghost radar or whatever. She’s doin’ too good a job and shortin’ you out or somethin’.”
“I didn’t know there was a problem.”
“Well, ya’know… You don’t seem to be goin’ ta’ la-la land and all…”
“So you’re saying that unless I go into a trance or try to swallow my own tongue I’m not credible?”
“I’m not sayin’ that,” he grumbled. “It’s just… Well, you know what I’m talkin’ about…”
“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” I replied. “Would it help if I told you I have a headache?”
“Maybe. Do ya’?”
“Yes.”
“But is it…”
“The Twilight Zone kind? Yes.”
“See… Yeah… That does help a bit.”
“Good, I’m glad.” I tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I knew some of it had to have leaked through.
“If the two of you are finished, shall I continue?” Doctor Sanders asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I replied.
“Superficial ligature marks on the wrists indicate her hands were bound at some point prior to death,” she began her recitation anew. “There are several healed scars on both arms that appear to have been inflicted by something small and sharp, such as a razor blade, but the most recent of them is at least several months old. There is, however, a more recent needle puncture in the left arm. From the level of bruising, it occurred probably one to two days before her death. We’re testing the surrounding adipose tissue for any trace of drugs which may have been injected.”
Taking a pair of steps toward the end of the drawer, she rolled Emily Foster’s head to the side and held it in place while she used the index finger of her other hand to point out a ragged trauma on her neck. “Now, as I said earlier, the mode of death was desanguination. Everything points to her having bled out from this wound on her neck.” She moved her finger around to indicate an anomaly straddling the gash. “Notice the indentations here and here. We were able to take an impression, and even though it is only partial, what we have is definitely a bite wound. The profile appears to be human, although due to the degree of tearing, we weren’t able to get much more than the upper incisors and the right cuspid. However, the depth of the impression showed that the cuspid is markedly elongated.”
“You mean long like a vampire fang?” Ben asked.
“Yes, like a fang,” she replied. “But I really wouldn’t say ‘vampire’ since there is no such thing.”
“Yeah, I know, Doc,” he said. “What I mean is like the fruitloops who think they’re vampires.”
“Well, I suppose,” she assented with a nod. “Since the bite is in fact human, it’s possible the subject might have a removable prosthesis, or even a cosmetic dental veneer. But, I’m afraid that unless you find someone we can match up with a dental record it may be moot. Unfortunately, no saliva was detected, even deep into the wound itself, so we aren’t getting any DNA to run against the database.
“Also of note, the lack of bruising would seem to indicate that the bite was made postmortem. We’re checking for free histamine levels in the surrounding tissues to verify that.” Doctor Sanders looked up and pointed across the room with her free hand. “Storm, do me a favor. There’s a magnifying glass on the table over there, I need it.”
Ben strode over to the table and searched for a moment before returning with the instrument.
Doctor Sanders paused and adjusted the woman’s head to bring more light onto the wound then carefully held a flap of sagging flesh in place with her finger. Holding the lens over the area, she began speaking again, “We’ve actually excised a sample here, but if you look closely you can see that the bite rips through the external jugular vein, which is the point where she bled out.”
I leaned in to look through the magnifier, but not being versed in vascular anatomy, all I really saw was a jagged gash in a dead woman’s neck. I kept staring, but apparently the angle at which I was leaning was starting to affect my balance because a nasty wave of vertigo was causing my head to swim. That being the case, I decided I should just step back and rely on Doctor Sanders to explain.
“Okay, just a sec…” Ben interjected. “She bled ta’ death so that would make all kinds of sense, but you also just said you think the bite came after she was already dead. So how does that work?”
“I’m coming to that,” Doctor Sanders replied. “The sample and vein section we excised bore indications of a large gauge needle puncture.”
“So the killer drained ‘er with a needle?”
“Most likely a catheter and IV tubing, but yes.”
“Sonofabitch,” Ben muttered then let out a thoughtful sigh.
Doctor Sanders voice floated into my ears with a questioning note firmly attached. “Mister Gant?”
A handful of seconds later Ben’s echoing words followed. “Hey, Row… You’re pretty quiet over there. You gettin’ somethin’?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to answer him. He was, however, about to get his earlier wish for the dramatic.
CHAPTER 22:
The onset of the vertigo should have been my first clue that something wasn’t right. Unfortunately, I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the almost complete lack of usual warning signs leading up to it. Therefore, by the time I had actually backed away from Emily Foster’s corpse, it was too late. Of course, since I knew this moment was really just another step in an already runaway supernatural process, I was also
