sharp. Of course, it was always sharp, usually sarcastic, so Nate couldn’t tell if she was truly pissed off or just giving him her usual hard time.
“It’s been two days. I’ve been plenty patient.”
She sent him one last glare before relenting. “I expected you yesterday.” Her gaze settled on Risa then. “You still around?”
“Obviously.”
Nate winced, braced himself for the explosion. But amazingly Liz remained calm. “You’re hired as an independent consultant, I hear.”
He shot her a narrowed look and she held up a placating hand. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. I listen, I don’t talk. And that outfit she works for isn’t exactly low profile.” She turned around and started to stride away. He knew her well enough to realize they were supposed to follow.
“The Mindhunters, right?” she threw over her shoulder as she walked at a surprisingly quick pace. “I heard one of Adam Raiker’s scientists speak at a conference I was at a couple years ago. Alfred Jones. Smart guy. And everyone’s heard of Raiker.”
Nate resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders. No way in hell would he admit he’d never heard of the man or his company until he’d researched both after having one of Raiker’s consultants thrust on him. And yeah, it was hard not to be impressed by the man’s resume. Or the details of his last case for the bureau.
He’d been captured by the serial child killer he’d trailed to the Louisiana swamps. Been held and tortured for three days before escaping and killing the man. Such was the stuff of legends. But it was the more recent news about Risa’s boss that had captured his attention. Four attempts on his life in as many months should have kept him too busy to intervene in a police investigation in Philadelphia. And it was the details behind those actions that interested him most about the man.
“What’s he like?” The question, directed at Risa, was tossed over Liz’s shoulder.
“Who, Jonesy?”
“Jonesy. Yeah, that fits. No, I mean Raiker. I’d like to meet him sometime.”
“He’s . . . indescribable.”
“Not surprising, with his history. Here’s your guy. I’m just finishing up on him.” Liz opened up the door to one of the morgue’s main rooms. It was lined with a half-dozen workstations, each consisting of a large sink, a scale, and a small counter with a surgical light. The exam tables would be rolled out of one of the walk-in refrigerators where the bodies were stored.
What remained of Pat Christiansen lay on the gurney at the first workstation. A quick glance assured Nate that none of the man’s organs were sitting on the scale, or worse, middissection on the counter.
“Relax, Nervous Nellie, I’ve sewn him up already.” Liz poked an elbow at Risa. “He hates this place. The first time he came here—”
“I don’t think we need to go into that story,” he objected.
“—he tossed his cookies in that sink over there.” Liz pointed a gloved finger at the third workstation. “And then he blames his weak stomach on the smell. Smelled a lot worse when he left, let me tell you.”
“In my defense, I was twenty-two and just out of the academy,” he started.
The women shared a grin that would strike fear into the heart of any thinking male. “I know. Guys, right?” Risa said, and the two of them laughed.
He examined the ceiling. “Like it wasn’t enough I had to clean five pounds of shit off the hood of my car an hour ago. I have to listen to it here, too.”
“What?”
“From one of his many admirers,” Risa explained, and the ME laughed again.
Nate eyed them unkindly. In all his years of working with Liz, he’d never heard her laugh. Rarely saw her smile. He should have known both would be as cutting as her speech. “You’re as mean as she is,” he informed Risa. “And it’s a well-known fact that she uses her tongue as a scalpel in here.” Although Liz and Cass were friendly enough, he didn’t recall Liz ever taking to a newcomer so quickly.
On the other hand, when Risa was laughing at him, it was a helluva lot easier to forget how attractive she was. That wasn’t all bad.
“Your patient?” he reminded the ME. “You’re done with the autopsy, you said?”
Finally Liz moved toward the exam table. “I’ll have a preliminary draft of the report to you by the end of the day. Cause of death is smoke inhalation, but I don’t have to tell you he suffered before death.”
“How long?”