that matter. In most cases, anyway. Especially not the recently dead. Wrapping the telephone cord around her finger until it cut off her circulation, shame heated up her cheeks while Templeton filled her in on the rest of the story.
As Templeton spoke, Dana gathered that Christian Manhoff had been found naked and lying dead in the middle of a downtown street with a large rawhide dog bone shoved halfway down his throat – a favourite prop of the Browns’ ‘super-fans’. According to Templeton, the ME had concluded that Manhoff had choked to death on the bone, though Dana didn’t think that eight years of advanced schooling had necessarily been required to come up with that unsurprising diagnosis.
‘There is something else,’ Templeton said when he’d finally finished bringing Dana up to speed.
‘What’s that?’
Templeton hesitated. Then he blew out a slow breath and went on. ‘There was also a picture of your brother attached to one of Manhoff’s nipple rings.’
Dana’s stomach flipped over inside her gut. For one terrifying moment there, she couldn’t even breathe. Her world swam in and out of focus before clearing up again suddenly in a dizzying flash of colour. Her knees buckled hard. ‘What?’ she asked, hoarsely.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Templeton said. ‘It’s fucking weird. The photograph wasn’t there at the initial crime scene, but the ME said he discovered it when he went to do the autopsy.’
Dana glanced over at the digital clock on her stove, holding on tight to the edge of the kitchen counter for balance. ‘Where are you now?’ she asked.
‘Down at the station house.’
‘Where’s Christian Manhoff’s body?’
‘At the coroner’s office.’
‘I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up.’
Templeton let out a relieved breath. ‘Thanks, Dana. I really appreciate it. I’m really sorry for dropping this shitstorm into your lap right after you got out of the hospital, but I really didn’t know who else to turn to. I owe you one.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Dana said. ‘I’ll see you in half an hour.’ Hanging up the phone, Dana felt a familiar thrill boil away deep in the pit of her stomach, completely chasing away the vertigo despite the overwhelming shock of having been thrust smack-dab into the middle of yet another homicide investigation featuring a very personal connection to her.
The thrill of the chase.
Dana took in several deep breaths through her nostrils and steeled herself for what would come next. Hell, maybe she wasn’t crazy, after all. Maybe she’d just been born for this kind of work. Had been born to chase killers. God knew that she loved it – all the horrible collateral damage usually involved notwithstanding. And much like the rest of the country, anything concerning Nathan Stiedowe – even peripherally – fascinated the hell out of her.
Besides, Gary, Dana thought as her gaze drifted upward and landed on the fresh bottle of Jim Beam sitting on top of her refrigerator next to a roll of paper towels. It’s me who owes everybody else. Crawford, Eric, Jeremy… all the others…
And now it was time for her to pay up.
CHAPTER 13
After finally discarding the silly white lab coat in favour of her worn brown leather bomber jacket, a fuzzy green scarf and a pair of faded blue jeans – tucking her Glock 17 into her shoulder holster to complete the hastily thrown-together outfit – Dana exited the elevator on the ground floor of her apartment complex and rushed out the front door of the lobby to go meet up with Templeton at the station house downtown. Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed down one bit since she’d first hung up with the Cleveland cop, and judging from the incessant thumping still banging away against her ribcage, she highly doubted that it would anytime soon.
Preoccupied with thoughts of her brother and how he might tie into Christian Manhoff’s brutal murder, Dana didn’t notice the television news crew that had been lying in wait for her just outside the main doors until it was already too late. Clever as the sleight of hand might have been with the doctor’s outfit at the hospital, apparently the press hadn’t been fooled for long. Still, Dana was happy the misdirection had worked for as long as it had. After all, she certainly hadn’t expected the press to stay in the dark for ever on the subject of her whereabouts. They were just too good at what they did; too hungry; too goddamn relentless.
As was usual with television journalists, everything happened very quickly from there. Before Dana knew what