Page 16 of Night Prey
“Did you recommend that the DA file charges against me?”
He worked the muscle in his jaw. “I did.”
“Now that’s even richer.” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to do that, did you? Sure, you had to arrest me. Your job demanded it, but there’s no law compelling you to push for charges to be filed against me.”
“Just the fact that I swore an oath to do my best for all victims. Even ones I don’t particularly like. Which means, when the evidence points to someone’s guilt, I arrest them and ask to have charges brought against them no matter who they are. No matter if they have friends in high places. No matter if I don’t believe they’re guilty.”
He was looking at her through narrowed eyes. He was right. Someone went to bat for her. She was thankful for that, but right now all she could see was his judgment over her special treatment, and she didn’t like it. Made her feel guilty when she was anything but.
She lifted her shoulders. “As you said, I have great resources at my disposal, and I need to get together with the Veritas and Nighthawk teams and get started looking for Junior’s killer.”
Ian drew a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out. “Take this. Just in case you change your mind about helping me or if you need me.”
She wasn’t a fool. She would need to talk to him again before her investigation was over. That was inevitable. She settled his card into her evening bag without looking at it and started to walk away.
“Be careful, Malone,” Ian called. “As you said, you’re looking for a killer. I wouldn’t want you to be his next victim.”
Sal tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “He’s right, you know. This isn’t one of your wayward teens needing their life investigated so you can try to reunite them with their parents. This is something different altogether. This is murder.”
“Reed will make sure I take care.” She glanced back at Ian then forced herself to look away.
“Reed will do his best,” Sal said. “But, honey, you’re known for ignoring him.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“I know I told you to stay away from Detective Blair,” Sal continued. “But there’s one thing you need to remember. You and your crack team at Veritas can investigate and prod and probe, but at some point you’ll need police assistance. When that happens, it could be a life-or-death situation, and you don’t want to be on the outs with this detective.”
Attending autopsies. One of the most difficult requirements of Ian’s job, and they never got easier. He usually made it through them by thinking of other things and places. Like today. He slipped his foot into the Tyvek suit the medical examiner left for him, his mind on Malone and her rejection.
He’d made a professional request to partner with her, but her rejection felt personal. He wasn’t surprised she’d said no. She was a strong, independent woman, and she had the Veritas Center professionals behind her. She could easily have them investigate Junior’s murder. They wouldn’t need Ian unless they required access to law enforcement databases. But his gut told him that the shooter had planned to set Malone up. She was the key to finding Junior’s killer, and Ian had to find a way to persuade her to work with him.
He zipped up the suit, put on a face mask and shield, and entered the autopsy suite. Three stainless steel tables sat in the center of the room that had large stainless steel sinks, refrigerators, and freezers along the walls.
Junior lay on the closest table, face up, eyes wide and wearing a blank stare. His chest had been sliced open. Dr. Albertson stood over him. She was slender, medium height, with a short bob of gray hair and plenty of wrinkles, which were covered by a clear face shield.
She looked at him. “I got an early start on the day and began without you. Nothing to report here regarding the cause of death. Just what we expected. Two gunshot wounds to the chest, one piercing the aorta. He would’ve dropped immediately. I didn’t find any signs of defensive wounds or skin cells under his nails, which we didn’t expect to find.”
“Gunshot wounds were inflicted from a distance?” he asked.
“Definitely not up close. There’s no stippling around the wounds or gunpowder on the shirt.”
Exactly like Malone reported.
“This is pretty cut and dried as far as a homicide goes.”
“I guess I didn’t need to take the time to be here.”
“Not so fast,” she said, a glint in her eyes. “You should know, if the victim hadn’t been shot, he probably wouldn’t have lived much longer.”
Ian’s interest perked up. “Why’s that?”
She pointed to an odd shaped organ that looked like a narrow cornucopia you’d see on a Thanksgiving table. It was located near his ribs, and a large discolored area took up two-thirds of the organ.
“An advanced tumor of the pancreas,” she said.
“He had pancreatic cancer?”
She pointed at a small mass. “It’s spread to his lymph nodes and blood vessels. Stage three.”
