“IT is already on it.”
“And footage from yesterday?”
The frustration in Brody’s eyes sends a jolt of worry through my veins. “Inconclusive.”
“What does that mean?”
“The person who dumped Hubcap’s body in Punishment Square was smart, wearing a mask, cap, and hoodie.”
Biting the corner of my lip, I mumble, “But we can get height and build.”
“That doesn’t narrow down our search. We can’t even tell if the perp is male or female.”
I pace, thinking aloud. “Whiplash is ninth on the Index. Does this have something to do with the IC?”
“RC,” Brody barks, stopping me midstride. His hard stare deflates my mounting anxiety. “It’s too early to be jumping to conclusions.”
“But the words,” I insist. “They have to be related somehow.”
“For all we know a copycat saw the news yesterday and wanted to do away with his competition—”
I bypass Brody and shove my way into the examination room. The coroner and his assistant are standing over the same stainless steel table that held Hubcap’s body yesterday. They both turn to me expectantly. Brody follows me inside, but I don’t hear what he’s saying through my gasp at the sight of Whiplash. He resembled a jellyfish, except without translucent skin. I cover my mouth and run over to the sink. What’s left of my breakfast is gone in three heaves. A large hand rubs my back, which makes things worse. I wave Brody away. His hand lifts, but he doesn’t move away from me, hovering close.
“What the hell possessed you to come in here?” he asks in exasperation. There’s the fatherly figure I’ve looked up to since my parents died.
Once I have nothing left inside, I lift the tap and cup my hands over the stream. I bring the pool to my lips and suck in a mouthful of the cool water. After swishing for a couple of seconds, I spit, punch the tap down, and then wipe my lips across the sleeve of my ugly overalls. Bracing myself for what I’m about to see with a deep breath and a clench of my teeth, I turn around. I keep my gaze on the eyeglasses of the balding coroner.
“You said ‘vanity’ is a perimortem wound,” I say, but it comes out like a question. He nods, so I jump to my next thought. “Would you say the penmanship is the same?”
He clears his throat before he says, “After closer examination, the cuts seem to have been made by the same type of blade that was used on Hubcap. At least I believe the sharpness is the same. The wounds are clean. I would have to examine the letters further before I can make any conclusive connections between the two bodies.”
“Then what is the cause of death?”
Brody is the one who responds. “Sharp, blunt-force trauma to the back of the head.”
As if on cue, the coroner’s assistant turns Whiplash’s head to the side and points out what looks like half a circular wound at the base of the skull. I have to hand it to their skills. Barely anything is left of the back of the skull. Again my stomach roils. Damn, I’m not made for this. I shift my gaze to my grim mentor.
“Two bodies in as many days? That’s got to mean something, right?”
“If you’re thinking this will affect the IC, no.” He pierces me with an assessing glance. Even if I can will myself not to blush, it’s too late. My cheeks heat at his marksmanship. Like Mac, he knows me too well. At least I have the grace to be ashamed this time around. “Whiplash is the fifth body to come in today. Death is a part of Terra One life.” He moves his stare away from me to the table, which I’m not looking at anymore. I’m pretty sure I’ll have nightmares tonight. “I’ve already set up a team to investigate this, but until we find anything actionable, it’s better not to jump the gun.”
I kick an imaginary pebble at the obvious admonishment in Brody’s tone. He’s aiming it at me for sure. He’s right. I got way too excited for my own good. What the hell got into me? I’m not usually like this.
“Go home, RC,” Brody says on a sigh. For a second he sounds so much like the boss. The hairs at the back of my neck rise.
MAC AND Screw are in stitches the second they see me in my overalls when I enter the back of the garage where my GT and the Zagato are parked. At least Trevor had the decency to keep himself busy when I arrived. He gave me and my outfit one look and got back to work.
“Thinking of switching careers to maintenance?” Mac asks between gasps of laughter. The jerk is doubled over on his chair.
“Don’t!” I point at Screw, who’s using a fist to cover his mouth, muffling his chuckles. “You’re both going to regret it when you find out why I’m in this.”
“So?” Mac straightens in his seat. “Why are you in sewer-worker chic?”
The realization hits me. No wonder the overalls looked familiar. Rubbing the center of my forehead, I spit out the news. “Whiplash is dead.”
Sudden silence fills the space. Mac and Screw share stunned expressions.
Almost smug, I say, “See? I told you so.” I would laugh if what I witnessed this morning didn’t disturb the hell out of me.
Screw regains his composure first. “How?”
“I really don’t want to relive everything right now. Can we just focus on getting my GT ready for the IC?”
Mac’s eyes bug out. “Are you telling me you saw the body?”
“More like it fell right where I happened to be standing with a reporter.”
“It was caught on camera?” Mac’s tablet is on his lap even before he finishes speaking. He pulls up the newsfeed in seconds, and Screw is watching it over his shoulder.
Serious about not reliving the scene, I head for the stairs. I’m so burning these overalls. But I’m barely on
