Bobby to go get something for her arm. Jill was trying to support it in the air and at the same time keep Frank propped against the fender. Seeing the blood smeared on her pants and the arterial stream plopping steadily onto her shoes, Frank thought,
People from the station crowded around. Frank kept her head down, hoping she wouldn't hurl. By the time Bobby raced back the shock had lessened. She was able to sit up with her good arm braced against her leg. Frank focused on the pain. It was deep and sharp, like her ulna was being forged of molten steel.
Bobby tossed Jill a towel and a pack of gauze. Jill glared at her old partner.
'Do you think I could get a little help?'
Darcy had joined the knot of people and he grabbed the gauze. Frank bit against her teeth as he unrolled the spool around her wrist.
'If we had some Saran Wrap we could package this up and sell it as hamburger.'
He grinned at her and Frank asked, 'Did you find him?'
Darcy shook his head. 'No one saw him. He just disappeared.'
Frank corrected weakly, 'People don't disappear.'
'This one did.'
He wrapped her arm in the towel but the blood soaked through even before he was done. Looking into her face, Jill asked, 'How you feeling?'
'Fine,' Frank lied. 'This is gonna fuck up my range marks.”
“You should put your head back down. You're really pale.' But Frank insisted, 'I'm all right,' even as she felt herself slide onto the road and into darkness.
21
Yawning, Frank padded barefoot into Gail's guestroom, which was really her home office. The doc twisted from her computer, pulling her glasses off.
'Hi, poor baby. How do you feel?'
'Pretty good, considering.'
Considering it had taken the emergency room surgeon three hours to sew her wrist back together.
'Have you taken any Vicodin yet?'
Frank shook her head and bent to kiss Gail, holding her arm well away. It throbbed, and hurt if she flexed her hand, but over all the pain wasn't bad. She had some minor nerve damage, but nothing that wouldn't heal with time and therapy.
'I don't like it. Makes me feel flat.'
'Well, you take it if the pain gets bad. And if you want I'll get you something else. It's a fact that people heal faster when they're not in pain.'
'It's a fact, huh?'
'Don't get flip with me. Oh. I've got a surprise for you.'
Gail rummaged through the chaos on her desk, finally placing a stack of faxed pages into Frank's left hand. It was Danny Duncan's preliminary autopsy report. The doc made a face, saying, 'It looks like he was still alive when they bled him.'
Frank scanned the first sheet. Death was attributed to exsanguination due to a single incised wound. The anatomical summary listed obvious pallor and evidence of exsanguination, and one incised wound to the neck, resulting in gross transection of the left and right carotid arteries as well as gross transection of the left and right internal jugular veins.
'Are you hungry?' Gail interrupted. 'Can I make you something to eat?'
'Coffee?' Frank asked.
'That's all?'
Frank nodded and Gail admonished, 'Your diet's atrocious.'
'Don't start,' Frank warned, making herself comfortable on the guest bed. She skimmed the generalities: External examination revealed the normally developed body of an adult black male weighing 167 pounds and measuring 71 inches in length. Decedent appeared muscular and well-nourished. Rigor mortis was present and generalized; livor mortis fixed and posterior. Tattoos, abrasions, and scars were duly noted, as well as continuous, circular contusions around each wrist and ankle.
Frank took the mug Gail handed her. Pointing at the remarks about the bruising, Frank asked, 'Did Paul say anything about this?'
'Uh-uh,' Gail scanned quickly. 'Do you think he was bound?'
'Appears that way.'
Frank put the mug down and pushed the papers in her lap until she found the body sketch. Paul had only indicated the contusions with a slash mark. She checked the clothing and valuables section for anomalies, then scanned the systemic review.
But for an absence of blood, Duncan's insides were unremarkable. The trauma was localized to his neck. There, Frank read to Gail, 'A deeply incised wound starting from the left sternocleidomastoid muscle stretches seven-point-five inches to the anterior border of the right sternocleidomastoid muscle. The wound is smooth-edged and gaping, exposing the larynx and vertebral column. The incision passes cleanly through the thyrohyoid ligament and hypo-pharynx and point-five inches into the C3 vertebrae.
'Translated'—Frank looked up—'that means whoever cut Duncan was one strong motherfucker.'
'Do you have to talk like that
'Sorry.'
'Not only is he strong, but he's probably left-handed, too.'
'So it's highly unlikely that someone the Mother's size and age could slice so cleanly and deeply through a grown man's throat that she goes half an inch into his neck bone.'
'Highly unlikely,' Gail agreed.
The opinion section of the report concluded that due to the incision's cleanness, smoothness, and regularity, the decedent was likely immobile during infliction of the fatal neck wound. The lack of blood in his body indicated his heart had still been pumping when he was cut, but he probably lost consciousness within seconds, if he wasn't already out. That would explain the immobilization, Frank thought, squaring the papers with one hand.
Gail spied over the edge of her glasses.
'Does that help?'
She was wearing shorts and Frank admired her legs.
'Some. What are you working on?'
'I'm finally getting back to my friend in Canada. I told you about her, didn't I? Tempe Brennan? The forensic anthropologist? She's a neat lady.'
Gail had a wide network of associates and colleagues. She'd put a lot of effort into her career, unlike Frank, who'd had it thrust upon her. Joe Girardi had taken her aside only three few months after Maggie died, outlining her advancement to command. Frank hadn't wanted to climb the LAPD ladder; Detective Grade II was good enough for her. But she'd numbly accepted Joe's tutelage, partly to fill the black hole inside her, but more to please Joe. He'd been her angel and she couldn't let him down. In retrospect, he'd probably known that was exactly what she'd needed to distract herself from an alcoholic oblivion or swallowing a bullet.
Frank patted the space beside her.
'Come here.'
Gail filled the indicated spot, carefully wrapping Frank in a hug.
'You know something?'
'I know a lot of things,' Frank said against the flat plane where Gail's left breast used to be. She kissed the scar through Gail's shirt as her good hand found warm skin underneath.
'I was worried about you last night.'
The doc pulled back to look at Frank.
'It surprised me. I've never felt like that before. I felt so protective. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.'
Frank was ready with a flip answer but Gail's earnest expression stopped her. She nodded instead.
'Do you ever feel that way about me?'
'All the time,' Frank admitted.
