is a crime scene, Black. Next time, watch where you’re walking. You’re lucky we already dusted for prints and shoes.”
She looked down, baffled; she had been careful where she had walked. She looked up at Connelly’s steely eyes and realized he was just looking for a reason to ride her.
“I didn’t know it was a crime scene,” she said. “Thanks for filling me in.”
Ramirez snickered.
Connelly bit down and stepped forward.
“You know why people can’t stand you, Black? It’s not just that you’re an outsider, it’s that when you were on the outside, you had no real respect for cops, and now that you’re on the inside, you have even less respect. Let me be perfectly clear: I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, and I sure as hell didn’t want you on my team.”
He turned to Ramirez.
“Fill her in on what we know. I’m going home to take a shower. I feel sick,” he said. Gloves were removed and thrown to the ground. To Avery, he added: “I expect a full report by the end of the day. Five o’clock sharp. Conference room. You hear me? Don’t be late. And make sure you clean this mess up, too, before you leave. State troopers were kind enough to step aside and let us work. You be kind enough and show them some courtesy.”
Connelly walked away in a huff.
“You have a real way with people,” Ramirez admired.
Avery shrugged.
The forensics specialist on the scene was a shapely young African American named Randy Johnson. She had large eyes and an easy way about herself. Short, dreadlocked hair was only partially hidden behind a white cap.
Avery had worked with her before. They’d formed a fast bond during a domestic violence case. The last time they’d seen each other was over drinks.
Excited to be on another case with Avery, Randy held out a hand, noticed her own glove, blushed, guffawed, and said, “Oops,” followed by a wacky, eek! expression and the proclamation: “I might be contaminated.”
“Good to see you too, Randy.”
“Congrats on Homicide.” Randy bowed. “Moving up in the world.”
“One wacko at a time. What have we got?”
“I’d say someone was in love,” Randy replied. “Cleaned her up pretty good. Opened her up from the back. Drained her body, filled her up so she wouldn’t rot, and stitched her up again. Fresh clothes. Manicure. Careful too. No prints yet. Not much to go on until I get to the lab. Only two wounds I can find. See the mouth? You can either pin this from the inside, or use gel to get a corpse to smile like that. From the puncture wound here,” she pointed at the corner of a lip, “I’d guess injection. There’s another one here,” she noted on the neck. “By the coloring, this came earlier, maybe at the time of abduction. Body has been dead for about forty-eight hours. Found a couple of interesting hairs.”
“How long has she been here?”
“Bikers found her at six,” Ramirez said. “The park is patrolled every night around midnight and three a.m. They didn’t see anything.”
Avery couldn’t stop staring at the dead girl’s eyes. They seemed to be looking at something in the distance, yet close to the shoreline, on their side of the river. She carefully maneuvered to the back of the bench and tried to follow the line of sight. Downriver, there were a bunch of low brick buildings; one of them was short; a white dome rested on its on top.
“What building is that?” she asked. “The large one with the dome?”
Ramirez squinted.
“Maybe the Omni Theatre?”
“Can we find out what’s playing?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, just a hunch.”
Avery stood up.
“Do we know who she is?”
“Yeah,” Ramirez replied and checked his notes. “We think her name is Cindy Jenkins. Harvard senior. Sorority sister. Kappa Kappa Gamma. Went missing two nights ago. Campus police and Cambridge cops put her picture up last night. Connelly had his people check through photos. Hers was a match. We still need confirmation. I’ll call the family.”
“How are we on surveillance?”
“Jones and Thompson are on that now. You know them, right? Great detectives. They’re assigned to us for the day. After that, we’re on our own unless we can prove we need the extra resources. No entrance cameras to the park, but there are some up the highway and across the street. We should know something this afternoon.”
“Any witnesses?”
“None so far. The bikers are clean. I can troll around.”
Avery surveyed the surrounding area. Yellow tape encompassed a large swath of the park. Nothing out of the ordinary could be found near the river or on the bike path or grass. She tried to form a mental picture of events. He would have driven in through the main road, parked his car close to the water for easy access to the bench. How did he get the body to the bench without causing suspicion?
She wondered. People might have been watching. He had to prepare for that. Maybe he made it look like she was alive? Avery turned back to the body. It was a definite possibility. The girl was beautiful, even in death, ethereal almost. He had obviously spent a lot of time and planning to ensure she looked perfect. Not a gang kill, she realized. Not a scorned lover. This was different. Avery had seen it before.
Suddenly, she wondered if O’Malley was right. Maybe she wasn’t ready.
“Can I borrow your car?” she asked.
Ramirez cocked a brow.
“What about the crime scene?”
She offered a confident shrug.
“You’re a big boy. Figure it out.”
“Where are you going?”
“Harvard.”
CHAPTER FOUR
He sat in an office cubicle – superior, victorious, more powerful than anyone on the planet. A computer screen was open before him. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and remembered.
He recalled the cavernous basement of his home, more like a garden nursery. Multiple varieties of poppy flowers lined the main room: red, yellow, and white. Many other psychedelic plants – each one accrued over countless years – had been placed in long troughs; some were alien-like weeds or intriguing flowers; many had a more common appearance that would have been overlooked in any wildlife setting, despite their potent abilities. A timed watering system, temperature gauge, and LED lights kept them thriving.
A long hallway made of wooden beams led to other rooms. On the walls were pictures. Most of the pictures were of animals in various stages of death, and then “rebirth” as they were stuffed and positioned: a tabby cat on its hind legs playing with yarn;
