Stolen (Episode Three: The Nightshade Cases) Read online

  “It’s okay,” he said, faint lisp turning the “s” into a “th” she always found distracting. “We’ve swept this area, so you’re clear to come closer.” She did, easing forward, eye line following his gloved finger. “We found tracks, probably from a ladder.” Gerri studied them a moment, the two rectangular impressions deep in the dirt of the flowerbed below the window. “Looks like a possible point of entry.”

  “But?” Gerri straightened up, jotting in her notebook as Binks pointed next at the back door.

  “Lock’s been broken,” he said, blinking behind his thick glasses. His glove crinkled softly as he adjusted them, wiggling his long, narrow nose to settle them back in place. Binks was fabulous at what he did, but he always reminded Gerri of the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Quick talking, lisping, tall and skinny with pale blonde hair and eyes so light she wondered if he was borderline albino.

  “Two murderers?” But why two points of entry? That made no sense. If there were two of them, why not both enter through the back door?

  In any case, this was feeling more and more like a robbery gone wrong.

  “We found a ladder in the shed,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “We’re fingerprinting, but the brilliant criminal who chose to use the Sonnicker’s own equipment to scale to the window are a few launches short of rocket scientists.” He snorted a laugh.

  Gerri clapped him on the shoulder, swaying him with the blow. He adjusted his glasses again as she closed her notebook.

  Dumbass criminals. Her favorite.

  ***

  INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE - AFTERNOON

  Ray stepped back from John Sonnicker’s body, slipping her gloves from her slim hands as her assistant, Robert Ling, did the last of the cleaning. She turned to the computer to jot some observation notes, the sound of the hose washing away the remains of the blood a soothing noise, despite the reason for it.

  Death by exsanguination, as if there was any real surprise. Ray could tell the moment she crouched next to John’s body. Still, she couldn’t log that information yet, not until she did a thorough forensic autopsy. She might know it, able to see the moment of his death when he breathed his last, body lacking the blood it needed to deliver oxygen to his heart and brain. Ray just wished she could also see who killed him. That would make knowing the cause of death, the little talent she had, more worthwhile.

  She’d do her autopsy. And, in the end, report he died of blood loss. The wife’s COD was just as straight forward. The silver spike through her eye damaged her brain and ended her life. Sharp force trauma through the orbital socket. A horrible way to die.

  Was there a good way? She had, as yet, to find one.

  Ray turned back as the hose shut off. “Ready with for the next one,” Robert said.

  “Thank you.” She pulled on a new pair of gloves as the door to the morgue swung open. Ray waved at Gerri and Kinsey, smiling at her assistant. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Sonnicker if you want to take a break?”

  He shrugged, shedding his lab coat and gloves. Gerri grinned at him on the way by.

  “Detective. Doctor.” Robert raised his eyebrows at Ray after pertly addressing her friends, angular, brown gaze questioning. So protective, though unwilling to argue with her in front of others. Rest assured, he’d bring up her need for privacy later. For now, she just let him go before gesturing Gerri and Kinsey closer.

  “It’s not official yet,” Ray said, keeping her voice down though it was just the three of them, “but I have COD’s on both bodies.” She didn’t have to tell the girls how she knew. They both nodded. “And while it’s hardly a shocker, they died as they appeared to. Husband from exsanguination and wife from sharp force trauma.”

  “The blood was all his?” Gerri stepped up to the body of John Sonnicker.

  “Seemed like a lot for one person.” Kinsey, on the other hand, held her distance. Ray felt suddenly sorry for her. She forgot not everyone was as comfortable with the dead as she.

  “An adult male body holds roughly twelve pints,” Ray said. “Severing both the carotid artery and both internal and external jugular meant death occurred within less than a minute.” She paused, thinking as she had at the scene, how much pressure it would have taken to cut so deep in one slice. “The wound is a single draw of a straight blade, right to left.” She pointed out the thinner edge on the right, the deeper on the left.

  “That means the attacker was left handed, correct?” Gerri’s interest perked. “The business partner, Abel Crombie, is right handed, so no love there.” She sounded disappointed.

  Ray didn’t comment, but went on. “The wife’s trauma was just as aggressive.” She turned to the next table, where the silver spike had been freed from Emma Sonnicker’s socket. The mess of her eye remained, a clot of blood dark in the center, adding a horror-movie aspect to her staring visage. “One thrust, through the eye, so hard the tip embedded in the skull at the back of the head.” While the brain was mostly made of fat and the consistency of warm butter, the skull on the other side was not. The X-Rays she’d taken before the spike was removed confirmed the tip buried in the bone of the occipital ridge, where the skull curved in the back, almost enough to emerge on the other side.

  “Which suggests a crime of passion, not robbery.” Gerri frowned and shook her head. “I’m getting some conflicting information here, Ray.”

  “All I can tell you is what I know for now.” She sighed and leaned against the stainless-steel table. “If I find more, I’ll share it, of course.”

  “What about the scene, Kinsey?” Gerri stepped away from the corpse, hopping up on an empty slab, cowboy boots thudding against the leg as her feet swung.

  “As I suspected,” the blonde anthropologist said with a nose-wrinkle that looked like disgust. “A mish-mash of religious icons and paraphernalia, including Egyptian, Wicca, Hindu, Buddhist and, my favorite, Catholic,” she rolled her eyes, “all thrown together with a cauldron and two naked folks in black robes.” She pointed with a long swallow at the spike. “With fetish issues.”

  “Fascinating.” Gerri grinned. “Your deduction from your findings, Doctor?”

  “That whoever these people were,” Kinsey said, “they either had zero clue about what religion they wanted to worship and were trying them all out just in case.”

  “Or?” Ray smiled with Gerri. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Or,” Kinsey said, “we’re looking at so much weird, I don’t even know where to start.”

  Gerri snorted, hopping down from the table. “I’ll take door number one,” she said. “Sounds like a sex fantasy night gone wrong to me. Thanks, Kins. If you could email your report over to the precinct, I’ll check ‘weird’ officially off my list.”

  “There is one thing I wanted to show you.” Kinsey’s hesitation was a huge warning flag for Ray, though Gerri didn’t seem to notice. At least, her happy mood didn’t abate as Kinsey stepped closer, holding up her camera for them both to have a look. It was a shot of Emma Sonnicker’s neck and the odd, gold necklace draped across her collarbone. Ray remembered it, saw CSI bag it for trace, before Ray could get a closer look. As she bent in, her heart skipped, face paling as she realized what she was looking at.

  “God damn it.” Gerri’s happy mood shattered, face compressing into a sharp scowl as she grabbed the camera from Kinsey and stared at the screen as though doing so would make what she was looking at go away.

  “I’m sorry, Gerri,” Kinsey said, sounding truly distressed. “But that necklace has the same six symbols we’re all familiar with. Which leads me to believe, while the rest of the items at the scene might have been a jumble of nothing, that,” she pointed toward the camera while Gerri glowered at her, “is something we need to pay attention to.”

  Six symbols. Ray saw them for the first time carved into the body of a dead transsexual. Again burned into the flesh of a young man shot and killed still holding the knife he use to murder two people. And, she was told, on the supposed holy man who turne
d Curtis Alexander into a killer in the first place. It seemed now the three friends were seeing those symbols everywhere, from the curling swirl over the “I” at the Exotica nightclub, to this strange necklace around the neck of a dead housewife.

  Looked like weird decided to come out to play after all.

  “Could be a coincidence.” Even Gerri didn’t sound like she believed what she just said.

  “You, of all people, know there’s no such thing.” Kinsey took the camera back from Gerri, staring at the image herself. “We need to look into this. Even if it isn’t connected to the murders, we need to find out where the necklace came from. It might lead us to more artifacts like the ones Simone has me translating.”

  Simone Paris gave Ray the shivers, though she’d only really met the woman in passing. Knowing she was in with Julian Black, the owner of Exotica, didn’t encourage Ray’s trust in her, either. And, from Gerri’s scowl, the detective agreed with her.

  Gerri nabbed the camera again, squinting at the image. Her fingers pressed a button or two, before her eyes widened. “That’s not the only thing we need to look into.” She handed the camera to Ray while Kinsey peeked around her, the scent of coffee and some faint flower perfume the blonde’s signature scent. But no trace of her death to come, a fact Ray was grateful for. Odd how Ray never seemed to be able to see Kinsey’s impending doom. Or Gerri’s for that matter. Two of the very few, in fact. “Look at the photo behind her shoulder. On the nightstand.”

  Ray did, frowning at the detail Gerri brought up. Just a photo of the family in a silver frame. Then again, it seemed off center, as though it slipped in its housing.

  Kinsey shrugged. “A crooked picture?”

  Gerri grabbed the camera. “I’ll have the CSI’s take a look,” she said, before tossing it to Kinsey again. Ray got the feeling this was distraction tactic for the detective, but wasn’t about to argue with her. “See you two later. Thanks for the help.”

  Kinsey didn’t pause, chasing after Gerri as the tall redhead strode from the room. Ray shook her head, wondering when her friend would finally stop running from the truth. Weird was happening. And, for some reason, the three of them seemed to be in the middle of it.

  For now, she’d let Kinsey poke the cranky bear. Ray had autopsies to perform.

  “Robert!” She smiled at him as he poked his head through the door. “Feel like working today, do you?”

  His snort and head toss of mock irritation was enough to make her laugh.

  ***

  INT. to EXT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE – DAY

  Kinsey panted after Gerri, not catching her friend until the entry to the morgue. She grasped the tall redhead’s arm, pulling her around by a grip on her suit jacket. Gerri glared down at her, tsking softly under her breath, green eyes snapping with anger. There was a time Kinsey might have backed down, allowing Gerri’s irritation shut her up. She adored the detective, idolized her so much sometimes it was embarrassing, really. She was a grown woman, a PhD of anthropology, not some flunky.

  “We need to talk about what I’m translating.” Why was it so important to Kinsey Gerri believe her? Aside from the obvious, of course. Kinsey trusted her friend, knew they’d shared witness to the paranormal. And, because Kinsey just couldn’t stand to think the redhead would think she was crazy or making things up. It hurt too much. More than Kinsey was willing to admit.

  The detective shot a look over Kinsey’s shoulder. She turned around, caught sight of the two guards watching them and sighed. She followed Gerri out into the sunshine, though at least her friend didn’t stomp away and refuse to talk to her, forcing Kinsey to chase her like a little kid looking for attention.

  “Kins,” Gerri said, voice low and intense, bending over the smaller blonde, broad shoulders blocking out the sun, “just drop this, okay? I’m trying to solve a pair of murders. One necklace doesn’t mean anything.”

  Kinsey had to hold herself back from stomping her foot in frustration. Yes, that would look professional and grown up, wouldn’t it? Gerri already looked at her like she was a cute little mascot or something. Irritated by the image that raised, Kinsey stifled her growing temper. Instead of overreacting, she drew a calming breath and used her best professor voice on the detective.

  “Like it or not,” she said, “if the symbols on the necklace do fully match those on the artifacts I’m studying, ignoring them means you’re purposely overlooking pertinent evidence in a murder investigation.” Gerri’s frown turned to a full-blown, storm cloud scowl. Kinsey knew exactly where to hit her to make her pay attention, no matter the risk of consequences. And Kinsey wasn’t above doing so, knowing Gerri’s big-sister attitude toward her let the detective get away with more than one of her anthropological colleagues might. “Since we’ve had encounters with symbols like these in the past connected to other murder cases, I would think you would be more willing to discuss the translations and what they might mean.”

  Gerri turned away, letting the sun in again. Kinsey breathed slowly into the humid air, holding still, and waiting for Gerri to react. She stood with her back to Kinsey for a long moment, hands on her hips, red curls glowing. Kinsey caught herself holding her breath no matter her intent to remain poised and in control of her emotions. For the first time, she was unsure if she’d pushed her friend too far. Kinsey clutched her camera to her chest to protect the precious images. Why she was worried about her friend’s temper, she had no idea. Except that, in the moment between Gerri standing frozen and the next instant as she turned, Kinsey could swear she caught sight of something snarling in her shadow.

  She started as Gerri crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “Fine,” the detective said. “But relevant information only. I’m tired of you and Ray running off with wild theories about vampires and shit when there’s no evidence, Kins.” She dropped her hands to her sides before slapping the back of one into the palm of the other. “None.”

  Delusion didn’t suit Gerri, but Kinsey was happy just to have made this little bit of progress, tension uncoiling in her stomach. “I’ll put together some of the work I’ve been doing and come see you.” Did that come out too eager, too quick? Kinsey didn’t dare pause. She had to rush forward. Before Gerri could change her mind.

  The detective nodded, green eyes staring at the tips of her boots, jaw jumping. She finally sighed her stress visibly into the warm California day and met Kinsey’s gaze, skin tight around her eyes. “How’s Margot?”

  An odd question, considering the last time Gerri talked with Kinsey’s grandmother, she’d insulted her and walked off with a grin on her face.

  “She’s gone back to Boston,” Kinsey said. And was glad to have the over bearing woman out of her life again, if only for now. The email her grandmother sent her suggested Margot might be making more permanent arrangements to relocate to Silver City for as long as Kinsey decided to call it her home. But Gerri didn’t need to know that.

  “Good.” Gerri relaxed all of a sudden, winking. “Can’t have as much fun with her around.”

  So mercurial, her red haired friend. But Kinsey felt the last of her own anxiety easing as Gerri’s did and she smiled back.

  “I’ll drop by campus this afternoon.” Gerri waved, turning and striding off toward her car. Kinsey watched her go, hoping she could find a way to make her friend pay attention.

  She feared what she was uncovering was about far more than murder.

  ***

  INT. – PATRICK SONNICKER’S APARTMENT – AFTERNOON

  Kinsey was cracked, that much was obvious. But, Gerri had to admit to herself as she drove slightly faster than necessary through the next intersection, she had a point. If the necklace—with the hateful symbols carved into it—was vital to the investigation, Gerri couldn’t ignore it.

  She just had to hope that, yet again, her anthropologist friend was looking for trouble where none existed.

  Never mind the things Gerri may or may not have experienced. She was still doubtful she even recalled correctly
the night her first partner in Silver City, Detective Joe Mutch, was killed by the cranked up junkie dealer. She’d been hit on the head the day before, suffering a mild concussion. And though she woke at times in a cold sweat from the image of a green scaled something with eyes so human they haunted her, pulling Joe into the lake, Gerri could force herself to forget in a solid hour at the gym.

  The fact her two closest friends in the world seemed to think they were special, that they had talents they called paranormal, just made Gerri cringe. She’d spent her whole life fighting the different label, from elementary school until the present, her stellar solve record a testament to that. Yes, she had a strong gut instinct. Yes, it often told her who was guilty and who she needed to lean on for answers. Who to be wary of. But, was it supernatural? No more than her ability to run fast or the way her mind naturally deduced answers.

  No, Gerri’s gut was just that—instinct honed by years of crime solving and, if anything, from being born the daughter of another natural detective, her dad, Dutch Meyers. Thinking about him made her grin. He’d hear Kinsey out, pat her on the head and send her on her way, before laughing about it with Gerri over a beer.

  Maybe she should call him. Get some perspective. But Dad was the last person she wanted to talk to about this stuff. Better to handle it on her own and move the hell on.

  Besides, she had a follow-up interview to conduct and a double murder to solve. Her attempt to talk to Patrick Sonnicker after re-entering the house hit a wall. According to Officer Mills, he’d left with his girlfriend. Gerri did her best not to give Mills a hard time over allowing a suspect to leave the scene before she was done, especially since Jackson’s smirk told her he was likely behind the release go-ahead.