had led us back to the autopsy suite, raising his voice to be heard over the music that filled the room.
On the opposite wall, the young man was standing at a stainless steel sink performing what must have been some daily routine considering the mechanically adept way he was approaching it. Whatever it was, it involved angry-looking medical implements that appeared as though they would be more at home on the set of a horror movie.
Aphrodite’s Child’s “Four Horsemen” was blaring from the speakers of a compact stereo nestled on a shelf in an out of the way corner. Considering the tune was one that came from my generation, it was not the type of music I would have expected to appeal to someone as young as the assistant, but to each their own.
He wordlessly abandoned his task for a moment to step over and spin the knob on the bookshelf sound system. He dropped the volume out of our range of hearing just as the chorus was about to inform us as to the color of the fourth horse.
It didn’t matter. Like most anyone, I already knew the color and what it represented. I found no particular amazement in the coincidental symbolism either. It was the sort of thing that seemed to be happening to me constantly these days, and I’d grown jaded to it.
“Thank you,” the M.E. stated aloud, the tone sounding as though the words came more from habit than actual courtesy.
We were standing next to a metal table in the tiled room. The form resting atop it was zipped partially into a body bag that could be seen at the foot. From the vicinity of the waist upward, it was also covered by a white sheet, a necessity because of the two-by-four that was still attached to the corpse.
The weathered length of wood jutted out on either side, exposed for all to see. Randy’s pale hand was twisted into a pained claw, his wrist mottled purple and swollen where several circlets of bailing wire held it fast to the wood. Frozen blood streaked the appendage and glistened wetly as it thawed.
I stole a glance at Felicity. She was holding her eyes tightly shut with her fist pressed against her lips. Her visceral anger had been replaced for the moment by bitter anguish.
I took a deep breath of the frigid air in the suite as I struggled to maintain control, myself. The smell of death and raw meat stung my nostrils, and I choked back the desire to vomit. The fact that a good friend was lifeless beneath the shroud made this experience different from any other. Even when I’d helped investigate Ariel Tanner’s death, I had never been in close proximity to her corpse as I was now with Randy. I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle it.
If the increasing throbs inside my skull were any indicator, I would have to say no.
The doctor turned his attention to us. “Now then, we won’t be starting the post until later this morning…”
“Is Doc Sanders doing it?” Ben interjected, referring to the chief medical examiner for the city.
“Doctor Sanders is on vacation right now,” the M.E. replied.
“What about calling her in,” my friend pressed. “She’s familiar with the way this wingnut operates, and I’m sure…”
“I am certain Doctor Friedman can handle the task, Detective,” Albright announced with a thread of agitation in her voice, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“I’m afraid she is unreachable.” The doctor was obviously miffed but offered the explanation anyway. “If I remember her itinerary correctly, she is on a cruise ship somewhere in the Bahamas.”
“When’s she get back?” Ben forged ahead.
“Storm!”
“Yeah, okay, sorry Doc. You were saying?”
The M.E. sighed and then continued, “We won’t be starting the official post until later this morning; however, I assume you are all aware of the condition of the body, so the cause of death is not likely to be much of a mystery.”
“How did you ID him?” I asked
“His driver’s license,” Lieutenant Albright answered for him.
“He was nude when I saw him hanging from the building,” I ventured. “Where did you find that? With the note?”
“Not exactly,” she replied. “Doctor?”
The M.E. looked surprised. “Lieutenant, since Mister Gant knew the deceased, I am not certain that…”
“No, Doctor,” she returned. “I insist. Mister Gant needs to see this.”
Doctor Friedman glanced at me with an apologetic shake of his head. I had met him before, and this was the closest I’d seen to real compassion from the man. That made me fear what I was about to see even more.
His sudden attack of humanity was well placed, but he just didn’t have the backbone to stand up to Albright. Without another word, he pulled back the sheet, hesitating initially before finally executing the deed.
“Awww, Jeeeez…” Ben exclaimed. “Lieutenant…”
“Shut up, Storm,” she cut him off yet again.
Eldon Porter wanted no mistakes made in identifying Randy Harper. In point of fact, he had gone out of his way to be certain of it.
Bile rose in my throat, and I began to physically tremble from the sickening mixture of sadness, pain, and overwhelming anger as I stared at the horror before me.
Felicity yelped, and I heard her behind me as she began to sob, but she was soon drowned out by the thick noise of blood rushing in my ears as my pulse began to race.
The means of identification was just what Albright had said it to be-a Missouri driver’s license. What she hadn’t warned me of was the fact that it was firmly affixed to the center of his forehead by a framing nail driven deeply into his skull. Judging from the lack of severe trauma, Porter had probably used a nail gun.
I probably would have stood there transfixed by the appalling sight, eventually falling into ethereal sync with the final violent moments of his life had it not been for the anguished scream that suddenly sliced through the room.
CHAPTER 7:
My muscles tensed as the unconscious fight or flight response took over. I instantly flinched, and the action sent a stab of pain through the shoulder that I’d earlier bounced off the doorframe on the van. The sharp ache crawled up my neck and bore straight in to join with the rank and file of my preternatural migraine. It didn’t help either that I immediately followed the wince by jerking my head up from the grisly horror on the autopsy table and shooting a startled glance over my shoulder in the direction of the scream.
At least I thought it was the direction of the scream.
The piercing wail glanced once again from the tiled walls before folding itself into a fading echo that melded with pained whimpers. I twisted slowly around, searching for the source of the noise, but found none.
“What’s wrong, Row?” Ben asked.
“Did you hear that?” I answered, asking the question of myself as much as of him.
“Hear what?”
“That scream,” I explained. “Someone screamed.”
Under most circumstances, I was perfectly capable of distinguishing between the real and the ethereal, and this scream definitely sounded like the former. However, with no one in the physical realm to whom I could attribute it, and since it was apparently audible to no one else, I could only assume that it had originated on the other side. But, something didn’t feel right about it. I couldn’t explain why, but it didn’t fit. It was just too real.
I shuddered as I tried to wrap my thoughts around it. For a split second it made me itch all over.
“You goin’ Twilight Zone, white man?” he asked with sudden concern as he nudged my wife. “Felicity, do that thing.”
She was still choking back a sob. “What thing?”
“That thing where you make him not ‘zone out,’” he stated urgently. “Ground ‘im or short ‘im out or whatever.”
“Please, Mister Gant,” Lieutenant Albright spat as she tilted her head and shot me a disgusted stare. “Spare
