of you can get out of the way,” Lilly sighed. She began washing the body down with a length of garden hose attached to one of the faucets of the double stainless steel sink.
Dr. John slipped into a surgical gown, complete with hood and plastic visor. He pulled on a pair of mint-green latex gloves and approached the table as Lilly finished removing the mud caked to the pale body. A foot pedal operated a microphone suspended above the table, and Dr. John stepped on this and began the examination.
In the next hour, he collected the samples of liver, stomach content, heart, and lungs that would be saved or sent for toxicology.
With the physical part of the postmortem completed, Lilly pushed the remainder of the organs back into the body cavity and stitched the T-shaped opening shut with coarse twine. Then she pulled a sheet over the body.
Jack kept an eye on the state detective’s face. She had turned a little green around the gills during the removal of the internal organs, but if she had never attended an autopsy before, she hid it well. He knew veteran street cops who had thrown up or passed out under similar circumstances.
“So, no sign of sexual interference?” Brooke asked.
Dr. John pulled the facemask and hood off, wiping away the accumulated sweat. “The rape kit will tell for certain, but off the record, I would say she was not the recipient of a paramour’s attention.”
Brooke didn’t respond to the pathologist’s attempt at humor.
“No obvious sign of sexual activity,” Dr. John confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean the lab won’t find something.”
“I’ll get the lab to put a rush on the samples.”
“You buying?” Lilly asked. She hoped the state would absorb the cost of all the tests that would be needed.
“How can I say no?” Brooke said.
“Well then . . .” Lilly said, her mouth twisting into a smirk, “how about those tests we asked for on the other victims? Any chance of getting those expedited?”
“I can get things done,” Brooke said, and gave Jack a challenging look.
Afterward, Jack went outside to make a call. He had to shove his cell phone hard against his ear to hear over the sound of heavy truck traffic lumbering past on the Lloyd Expressway.
“What’d you find out, pod’na?” Liddell asked.
Jack wanted to tell him to forget about the case and rest, but he knew that was pointless. Staying involved was how cops survived.
“Brooke is rushing the toxicology and DNA results on the bodies the fishermen found in the creek. With her connections I’m hoping she gets the tests back pronto.”
“Brooke?” Liddell asked.
Jack was sorry he’d slipped out with the name. He didn’t feel like telling Liddell about the political backlash that had wormed its way into their case. He glanced at the open garage doors to see if anyone was listening. “Brooke is with the state police,” Jack said. “Special Investigations Unit from Indianapolis. Ever heard of them?”
“Sure,” Liddell said. “Special Investigators, as in, they wear bicycle helmets and ride the short bus?” Jack was glad to hear his partner joking around again.
“She’s driving a smoking hot black Charger, Bigfoot.” And she’s smokin’ hot herself.
“Interesting,” Liddell noted. “Is she cute?”
Jack didn’t want to get into that subject. “So, when are you going to quit stealing sick time from the city and come back to work?” He secretly hoped the Liddell would take a few days off.
“I see my doctor tomorrow. Captain Franklin won’t let me come back without a medical release.” Liddell didn’t sound pleased.
“Oh? That’s too bad,” Jack lied. “But I guess it proves what I’ve always said. You are the most hardheaded person I’ve ever known. Anyone else would be in the hospital for a month.”
“Listen, pod’na. Katie was at the hospital this morning, and I think she was hoping you’d be there. Is there any chance?”
Jack was glad Katie was there for Liddell and Marcie. “Any chance I’ll be at the hospital?” Jack asked, as if he were confused by the question.
“You know what I mean, pod’na.”
“How is Marcie?” Jack asked. He knew where Liddell was going with this, and he wanted to stop him before it got started. Katie was engaged to someone else.
“The doctor took his sweet time discharging me, so Katie got Marcie some hospital scrubs to wear home. They have little animals all over them. They’re kind of hot.”
“You are one sick man, Bigfoot,” Jack said. Then he smelled cigarette smoke. “Gotta go. Someone’s coming.”
He hung up just as Brooke came