Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,30

Hopefully, we’ll verify. Dr. Simpson is starting his autopsy.”

“Autopsy? Do they even have the body at the morgue?”

“They took the body right after you left. Under the circumstances, Beau put the autopsy as top priority. You might want to join him.”

Stacey was looking at him.

“Autopsy,” he said.

“Tomorrow?” she asked. “Later today?”

“Now.”

“But that’s—”

“For this case? Apparently, it’s not just possible. It’s happening.”

* * *

The morgue was kept spotlessly clean—antiseptically clean. And yet, despite the multitude of products used to keep germs and bacteria at bay, Stacey felt as though the smell of death somehow seemed to permeate the place, from the autopsy rooms to the reception and the hallways.

It didn’t, really; Stacey simply knew that she was in the morgue. She supposed that now she associated the specific smell of the place with death.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Death, she knew, was a part of life. Part of the natural world. But sometimes, life was stolen. And that was why she so passionately wanted to be right where she was, seeking to stop those who would steal life.

Beau had really moved swiftly, pulling out all stops, sailing through paperwork and getting the job done. The body was lying on the autopsy table when they arrived; the Y incision had been made. Beau was speaking into the microphone above the body, clearly stating details for his recording of the autopsy.

Jackson was already in the room, observing. He caught Stacey’s arm as they entered, stopping her and Keenan.

“Your source was right. Her name is Lindsey Green,” Jackson told them quietly. “She worked for Billie Bingham. Positive fingerprint match came in quickly; she was arrested three years ago for soliciting close to the Smithsonian. The DC police have her on file. Apparently, Billie found her after her release and taught her how to ply her trade legitimately.”

They both nodded. Beau Simpson was in the process of removing the organs.

“Liver, enlarged. The damage has caused injury to the spleen as well. Other organs most likely bearing an effect as well.”

It seemed to Stacey that the autopsy went on forever. She wanted very badly to escape it.

“Any sense of anything?” Jackson whispered softly to Stacey.

She looked up at him, frowning, and then she knew what he meant.

In her experience, she’d never seen ghosts at an autopsy. But then, she’d never been at an autopsy before she’d joined the bureau. Ever since her second dream, she had seen the spirits of the dead, sometimes in a cemetery, more often where there was life, music, sunshine—things they might have enjoyed in life. But here, now... She blinked, cringing at the thought that the dead might return and witness something so horrible as the autopsy of their own body.

She saw that Keenan was shaking his head. He was frowning and moved closer, ostensibly listening to Beau, leaning forward—and touching the victim’s arm lightly—while asking a question.

Nothing.

Finally, it ended, and Beau left the sewing of the body to his assistant, stepping out to speak with the three of them.

“I’m sorry to call you in. I know you have the living to question. But this seemed important. No one would have stolen this woman’s organs. I suspected when I initially examined the body. She was suffering from cirrhosis. I have a feeling that they might have charged her for drunk and disorderly behavior as well as solicitation, but someone kindly forgot about that charge. For Billie, it wouldn’t have mattered. Lindsey might have made a fun drunk.”

“Thank you, Beau,” Keenan told him. He was anxious to move on. He looked at Jackson. “Whether the killer is trying a sham with a mask of the Ripper to steal organs, or if he’s really just a Jack-the-Ripper wannabe, he’s got the pattern down.”

“If he’s following the pattern, the next murder will be indoors—and it will be horrendous,” Stacey said. “All murder is horrendous, but according to most who have studied the case, law enforcement and others—”

“Mary Kelly was the last, murdered in her home, viciously torn apart. Yes,” Jackson said. “I talked to Fred Crandall. He was interviewing the maids. I’m going to join him back at the house with the CSI team. I have a hard time believing that Billie Bingham didn’t have a hidden camera somewhere. What’s your plan from here?”

Keenan looked at Stacey. It was getting late. They would have to rest at some point. There were other agents who could be called in.

“I want to figure out a way to, er, diplomatically speak with Congressman Colin Smith. If