He nods. “He was disposed of.”
My mind starts spinning, something rising up to the surface. I set the coffee down and move the still-unopened bag of food off my lap so I can get my satchel and take out my computer.
“What is it, Emma?” Greg asks. “I know that look. You figured something out.”
“Not yet. But I did remember something. Before you woke up and we were trying to figure out what Martin was talking about on those videos, I had Eric dig into the databases.” I click open the file I made with notes about the cases and references Eric found. “There didn’t seem to be very much. He searched for Lotan and Leviathan and different variations.”
“But he didn’t find anything,” Greg says with resignation in his voice. “The organization has been going on for a long time. It’s never been identified by any of the agencies.”
“You’re right. We didn’t find anything that said Leviathan or any reports that mentioned Lotan. But he did find a cold case that mentioned tattoos on the backs of the victims. The bodies weren’t in good condition, but the investigators were able to piece together the images with what was left to figure out what they were. Sea monsters.”
“What did they look like?” Greg asks, his voice rising slightly in that way it always did when things started cracking on a case.
“Let’s find out.”
Chapter Thirty-One
It takes more than two hours from the time I call Eric until he gets to the hospital room. I got a few bites into the breakfast Dean had waiting for me, but the anticipation filling my belly makes it hard to push anymore into it. Before he even steps into the room, I hear his footsteps approaching the door
“Did you find the case files?” I round on him the exact instant he walks in.
Eric holds up two thick folders and flashes me a smile.
“Right here.” He walks up to the edge of the bed and gives Greg a fist bump. The interaction would make me laugh if I wasn’t so on edge I could peel my skin off. “Looking good, man.”
“Thanks,” Greg says.
“The cold case, Eric,” I say.
He hands the files over to me as he rattles off the details of the case.
“The bodies were discovered fifteen years ago at a shuttered hotel that was undergoing renovations. Two men, both in their mid-thirties, one white, one black. The medical examiner estimated they were murdered several days before they were discovered.”
“At the same time?” I ask.
“That’s what they think,” Eric nods. “They were found in two different parts of the hotel. The details are pretty gruesome.”
“What happened to them?” Greg asks.
Eric looks hesitant.
“I don’t think you need to hear all the details,” he says.
“I know this man and this organization far better than any of you do. I might be able to give you some insight. But I need to know what happened to them.”
Eric nods. I find the crime scene photos as he starts carefully describing what happened.
“The first thing that tipped the construction crew about something being wrong was a grappling hook hanging from the roof of the hotel. They went up to see if somebody might have broken in and found blood. A lot of it. That’s when they called the police. Investigators followed a blood trail on the pool deck to the edge of the pool. It hadn’t been drained when the hotel was abandoned, so it was too dark to see through the water, but they used a pool net to probe the water. The corpse floated up to the top after it was dislodged from netting tangled at the bottom of the pool.”
“Did he drown?” Greg asks.
“No,” I say, staring down at the picture of the man dragged up out of the filthy pool water. “He was tortured.”
Eric nods.
“His body showed evidence of prolonged physical assault with a sharp instrument. Likely the grappling hook. He used it to puncture and claw him until he bled to death. It wasn’t quick.”
“What about the other one?” Greg asks.
I take out another crime scene photo of a wooden box.
“Is the other body in this box?” I ask.
“Yes,” Eric nods. “After discovering the first body, the team combed the entire hotel. They found this box in the basement.”
“There are chains on it,” I observe.
“They attach to shackles,” Eric says.
Dean gets up and comes to stand beside me so he can look at the photographs with me. The next one shows the box opened. The image of the bloated, waterlogged corpse from the pool was grotesque, but what’s inside the box makes Dean cover his mouth and take a step back.
“What the hell is that?” he gasps.
“The second man was shackled inside the box. Hairs and bite marks suggest live rats were put inside with him. He was likely covered in food of some kind. His hands and feet were initially through the holes in the box but slipped inside as the rats ate through him. They were able to get out of the box.”
“Good god,” Dean mutters.
“I can see why you said the tattoos weren’t well preserved,” I note.
“To say the least. But there was enough. The one on the guy in the pool was stretched, and some of it had already sloughed off, but the one in the box had most of it intact. He was lying on his back, and the dimensions of the box didn’t allow for a lot of movement. Something must have spooked the rats, and they got out before totally consuming him.”
“The exterminator,” I say.
“Are you giving the killer a nickname?” Eric asks.
“No. He already has one of those. I mean an actual exterminator. That’s what scared the rats away. It says right here in the report traces of insecticidal poisons were found on the box and the body. Canisters of industrial-strength foggers were in the basement. The construction crew weren’t the first people to go to the hotel
