Dirty Rotten Scoundrel (3 page)

“Jesus,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine.”

The Greenwood Elementary Shooting had been national news for weeks now. Five high s
choolers had made a suicide pact and decided along the way they were going to take as many members of their small town that they could with them. They’d started with the elementary school. That’s where it had ended too. Sixty-two children and teachers dead.

“Yeah. Chen did the work and waded through the blood, and then when it was all over she went to her chief and turned
in her badge and gun. Chief Walker and I are friends, so he gave me a call and told me she was too good a cop to not work the job at all. That maybe she just needed a change of pace. It didn’t take much to convince her to pick up a badge again. Cop to the bone. Sometimes you just need a little break.”

I ducked my head so Jack wouldn’t see my smile. All his cops were cops to the bone, but they all had stories and pasts that haunted them. The sheriff’s office was turning into a kind of rehabilitation center, and I wondered if Jack realized what he was doing. I snuck a glance at him from the corner of my eye and saw he was watching me. Of course he knew what he was doing. Nothing much got past Jack.

I turned my attention back to the body and then looked at Colburn. “I didn’t realize we were in mob territory. We’re a long way from Jersey and Vegas.”

“
But we’re a stone’s throw from Washington D.C., and the mob and politics have gone hand in hand since the dawn of time. If the vic’s from that area it could be politically motivated. Or it could be none of the above.”

“I’ll see if I can find any wounds ante mortem. Maybe he put up a fight. But like I said, at this point it’ll be hard to determine what was caused by fighting and what was caused by the river.”

Colburn
squatted down next to the body but across from me. “We’ve had a lot of rain the last couple of days. The river is moving more than usual. This guy could be from any state that butts up against the Potomac River. I’ve got Lewis checking missing persons just to make sure. If you think he’s been dead at least forty-eight hours then a report should’ve been filed by now. If we can get an ID on him soon we’ll be able to determine if he’s one of ours. If he’s not we’ll have to give him over to another jurisdiction.”

I looked back at the body and stuck my finger into the mouth cavity. “The bullet fractured teeth. It’ll make it harder to get a dental match. And the condition of the skin after sitting in water all this time is going to make retrieving the fingerprints difficult. I’ll work on the identification and then keep him on ice until we know for sure if he’s ours.”

“Anything wash up with him?” Jack asked.

Colburn looked up and down the shoreline to where the circle from the spotlights ended. “Not that we’ve found so far. When daylight hits we’ll comb as far as we can and see what’s what.”

“All right. Let’s bag him up and get him to the lab. It’ll take a little time to get the prints. It’s delicate work. But I should be able to have them to you in a few hours. Maybe sooner now that I have an assistant.”

I looked over at Jack and grinned. Everyone knew Jack was a hell of a cop and there wasn’t much that bothered him. The autopsies didn’t faze him one bit. But I only had one lab, and when I needed to put on my coroner cap I had to do autopsies in the same place where I prepared bodies for burial, and the smell of embalming fluid was enough to send Jack over the edge every time. It was an acquired smell—one I’d been used to since childhood.

The
great thing about Jack was that he was also a perverse creature by nature, and just the fact that I’d thrown down the gauntlet would mean he’d feel obligated to accept my challenge in becoming my assistant for the day. I knew Jack as well as he knew me.

His
face was a tad green, but his smile was sharp and a little bit cocky. “At your service, Doctor Graves.”

Dawn was just peeking over the horizon by the time we drove back into Bloody Mary, Jack behind the wheel this time.

I’d done a lot of thinking
over the past half-hour in the car, and I knew I was the one who needed to make the change. These were my hang ups. And Jack was right, it was my fear holding us back.

I’d watched a man I’d been intimate with die in front of me. I hadn’t loved him—not t
he way I’d wanted to—but there’d still been something there. Something inside of me had broken that day, but I knew it would be nothing in comparison if anything ever happened to Jack. I wouldn’t just be broken. I’d be shattered.

T
he paths we’d chosen kept death in the forefront of our lives—a constant reminder that the time we had on earth was finite—and that the human body was fragile. I could either live with that fear and that reminder swallowing me whole on a daily basis, or I could live the life I’d been given a second chance at with Jack at my side.

“If we got married,” I
said softly, my gaze turned toward the window so the buildings went by in a blur. “I think I’d want to take your name. If you don’t mind.” My face was hot with embarrassment and I wondered why I’d even brought it up. Hadn’t even known I’d been thinking about it somewhere in my subconscious.

“Oh, yeah?” Jack answered casually, but I knew I had his full attention.

“It’s just that I was thinking the name Graves is not really mine to begin with. They weren’t my parents. We don’t—”

My throat was dry and I would’ve given anything for a glass of water. My voice would never be the same after my incident. The doctors had told me that. And they’d said there would be some days worse than others, when the words wouldn’t come at all.
I cleared my throat and tried again.

“We don’t share blood. So it’s not like I’m really holding onto anything of value.
”

He reached across and took my hand, squeezing it lightly. “You know I’d be honored for you to take my name. But I want you to do it because it’s what you really want. Not because it’s what you think you should do. And not as a shield to hide who you are. You’re not of their blood, and I’m damned happy about that if you want to know the truth. But you’ve made your name what it is, Jaye. Not them. They had nothing to do with it. Just remember that when you’re signing on the dotted line.”

“My first name is stupid,” I blurted out. I figured if I was going to embarrass myself I should go ahead and get it all out of the way. “I just wanted you to know that because you’ll probably see it on an official document. If we get married, I mean.”

“I’m glad that you can talk about getting married to me now without looking like you’re going to throw up. We’re making progress. And I’m assuming all this talk of marriage means that you’re in agreement to doing it sooner rather than later?”

I chewed at my bottom lip and realized how stiff I was when my shoulders started to hurt. I took a deep breath and relaxed. I loved Jack. I knew that would never change. It was time for me to make a decision and commit instead of worrying about what might happen. And it was time I stopped letting the actions of my parents dictate the rest of my life. I’d tell Jack about my father, we’d deal with the body and the papers, and then we’d get married. As long as he was in my life I could deal with anything else.

“Yeah.” I finally turned in my seat until I was facing him. We came to a stoplight and he looked at me—his eyes filled with a little bit of laughter and a lifetime of love. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

His sensual lips curved upward and I felt the slow burn of arousal roll through my body. I wondered if it would ever get old—looking at the sheer maleness of him and feeling my bones turn liquid and my heart flip in my chest.

“And just so there are no surprises,” he said. “I’ve known your real name since we were in
fifth grade. I’ve been holding back the information for a potential blackmail opportunity.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise and I felt the flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and cheeks.
“All this time and you never said anything?”

“I’ve thought about it many times over the years. I came really close to using it once or twice, but I could never get it to come out. The name doesn’t fit you.”

I sunk down in the seat a bit and crossed my arms over my chest. “Well thank God for that. What kind of respectable doctor is named Jericho? And what the hell were my parents thinking? It’s like they stole me just so they could make my life miserable. What kind of people do that?”

“The shitty kind, appare
ntly. Don’t worry, love. Your secret is safe with me.”

***

Graves Funeral Home sat right on the corner of Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon, and it took up two full lots. It was a three-story Colonial with dark red brick and white columns that flanked the front entryway. Two massive elm trees stood in front of the house, the leaves new with spring and bright green. No grass grew beneath the trees, and the roots were gnarled and grew out of the ground, cracking the sidewalk.

Jack backed the Suburban up under the portico where we loaded and unloaded bodies. It didn’t take long to get the victim moved onto a stretcher and up the ramp
that led into the large kitchen. This was the private area of the funeral home where guests weren’t allowed. The big stainless steel door that led to my lab was just off the kitchen, and I keyed in the code and waited until the locks released.

Frigid air blasted me in the face as soon as I opened the door and Jack and I maneuvered the body
inside and to the elevator. Despite the temperature, sweat broke out on Jack’s brow as soon as the smell of the embalming fluid hit him. I immediately went and turned on the fans to the highest setting.

I tried not to pay any attention to the five boxes that sat unobtrusively in the corner—the same boxes my father had been looking for.
This was the only secure place I could keep them, but I wondered if the security on the door would really keep him out. Jack had a large safe in his closet where he kept extra guns, a few heirlooms, and extra cash. I was thinking it might be better to move them there, that way we could go through the boxes in the comfort of our home instead of huddled in the basement with a dead body.

“You okay?” I asked after I got the body settled
on the table. “There are bottles of water in the fridge if you want one.”

“I’m good. It’ll pass after a few minutes.
”

I grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and then tossed him the box. I worried about the shape the victim would be in even after such a short trip in the car. Victims found in the
water after an extended period of time were extremely delicate, and I knew if I was going to get viable prints for Colburn the work was going to be painstakingly tedious.

I unzipped the body
bag and we carefully removed the victim, making sure not to brush against his sensitive skin. I cut his shirt down the middle and peeled it away from his chest and shoulders. His flesh was already patchy and raw in places just from the trip down the river. My complete attention was on getting the sleeve from the arm when I felt Jack pause.

I looked up to make sure he was all right and wasn’t going to be sick, but I knew it was something else entirely once I saw the look on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look at the tattoo on his chest.”

Just above the victim’s heart was a tattoo of an eagle. It held an assault rifle in one talon, a lightning bolt in the other, and a large knife pierced the center. The detail was incredible and I could recite everything about it without looking at it. I was intimately familiar with that tattoo. Jack had one just like it, only his was located above his right hip.

“I don’t understand.”

“He was a SWAT brother,” Jack said. “Or maybe a wannabe, but he’s got marks of combat on him—looks like a knife wound on the arm and a bullet hole down low on his side—so I’m thinking he’s probably legit. We all have the tattoo. It’s a rite of passage.”

“One of your squad from DC? Is the tattoo specific to which
unit you’re in or are they all the same?”

“They’re all the same, so he could be from anywhere. But since he washed up on our shore
, he’s more than likely out of one of the surrounding offices. If he’s a cop his prints will be easy to tag.”

“Then I’ll get started. This is going to take a while if you’ve got something else you want to do.”

“I’ll see it through.”

I finished removing the victim’s clothes and bagged them carefully to send off to Richmond and the lab techs we used there. Just in case there was blood belonging to someone other than the victim.

The tissue on the victim’s fingers wasn’t stable, and if I wasn’t careful I’d tear the skin and wouldn’t get a viable print. The easiest way to do it was to remove the finger entirely and then remove the skin. It was quick—if gruesome—work to remove the finger and the skin, and I laid the epidermis on the table.

I used a superglue solution to spray on the skin to keep it from tearing and then I carefully
wrapped it over my glove, on the tip of my index finger. The black powder used at crime scenes was more delicate than the ink normally used when fingerprinted at the station, so Jack dusted the finger and I gently pressed it to the card he’d placed on the table. It was slow work, but when I lifted my hand and saw the perfect print I knew we’d gotten what we needed.

I wiped my brow
with the back of my arm, and when I stood up straight my back ached from where I’d been hunched over. I looked at the clock and saw we’d been at it for almost three hours. It was shy of noon and my stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d had nothing more than a cup of coffee all day.

“That’s all I can do for now until
I get the go ahead to start on an autopsy.”

“Then l
et’s get this to Colburn so he can look for matches through the computer. If the victim’s a cop he’ll be much easier to find. And while we’re out we can grab some lunch at Martha’s.”

Martha’s Diner was the only sit down restaurant in Bloody Mary. The hamburgers were good and greasy, the coffee questionable, and the pie out of this world. “Oh, good. It’s been a couple of days since I’ve been stared at and gossiped about. I was starting to miss it.”

“I’m sensing sarcasm in your tone.”

I stuck out my tongue at Jack and
pushed the body into the walk-in freezer. “You’re asking for it. You know Martha is going to ask you all sorts of questions about our relationship, and then you’ll tell her we’re engaged. And then she’s going to want to know why I’m not wearing an engagement ring. Then she’s going to assume it’s because you’re still on the market and she’ll try to fix you up with her niece’s granddaughter’s first cousin.”

“I’m pretty sure I followed your entire train of thought,” Jack said wryly. “It must be love.”

I stripped off my gloves, tossing them in the trash, and rolled my eyes.

“Besides,” he said. “I have your engagement ring in the safe. If you’d like we can get it from the house before we go eat lunch so we can avoid Martha’s prying.”

Jack was already halfway up the stairs, while I stood with my mouth open at the thought of a ring. A ring made it real. Not to mention I was terrified of losing it. I’d never worn jewelry before. It had a tendency to end up in whatever body I had cut open on my table.

“
What—You already have a ring? How? Why?”

He paused on the stairs and looked back at me. “You’re full of questions today. The ring belonged to my great-grandmother and it’s a family
tradition to pass it down to the oldest son’s bride. But if you don’t like it we’ll find something else.”

“No! Of course I’ll like it. I’m just—surprised. I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.”

The look he gave me wasn’t discernable, and he turned back toward the top of the stairs. I started up after him and had my foot on the first step when the boxes caught my eye. What the hell, I thought. It was a day for changes.

“
Jack.” He stopped at the top, his hand on the door, and looked back down at me. “I think I want to move the boxes home.” I realized it was the first time I’d referred to his house as my home. It was still a new experience for me to think of sharing my life with someone. With sharing a house. “I was thinking I should start going through them tonight.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” And while we were going through the boxes—examining the secrets my parents kept—I’d tell him my father wasn’t really dead. And then we’d see what happened.

Jack nodded and started back down the stairs to lift the boxes. They weren’t overly heavy—about a foot deep and wide—and we were able to carry two each up the stairs and load them into the back of the Suburban. I got in the passenger seat while Jack retrieved the remaining box.

The drive to the police station didn’t take long. All of the municipal buildings were built in the county square, so law and order was equal in all four of the towns that made up King George County—Bloody Mary and King George proper to the north and Nottingham and Newcastle to the south.