The Betrayed. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ He didn’t want to see what was revealed. He had to.

      Mortenson started with the female victim.

      “Female, between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five. Approximately five foot seven in life, 135 pounds. In excellent shape and health, judging by the state of her heart and organs, muscles and bones. She was a blue-eyed blonde, no contacts, highlights in her hair. We’ve done a computer mock-up of what she looked like before the tissue and muscle damage to the face. We’re turning that over to the police now.”

      Mortenson glanced at his clipboard and his notes, then pulled out several sheets, handing them to Aidan, Van Camp and Voorhaven.

      Aidan studied the woman’s face. She had nice bone structure, large eyes, a small nose and a pert chin. But there was no life in the image; he wasn’t sure he would have recognized her even if he’d known her.

      “What about her clothing?” Van Camp asked.

      “Her personal effects are boxed and ready for you and the lab,” Mortenson said. “But due to the blood on the outfit and various fluids stiffening the fabric, I believe she was killed and then beheaded in the suit you saw on the body, under that big coat. I’ve rushed everything, and the lab has, too.”

      “Thanks,” Aidan said.

      “Now, as to Mr. Highsmith...” Mortenson began.

      Aidan felt his muscles tighten. He steeled himself not to flinch, not to show emotion. He didn’t want to be hauled off the case.

      Mortenson rolled the sheet back.

      And there was Richard, the head placed where it should have been but showing not just the trauma of death, but of autopsy, too. He was almost unrecognizable.

      Mortenson was all business, his gloved hands showing what his medical eye saw as he pointed out the bruising caused by the strangulation that had ended Highsmith’s life.

      Aidan stared at the corpse on the gurney. Richard Highsmith looked like something created by a master of bizarre special effects.

      Mortenson’s voice droned on and on, until finally the sheet was drawn back over Richard.

      “I’ll keep you posted,” Dr. Mortenson said. “But I’m not sure what else I’ll be able to tell you.”

      “Toxicology reports,” Aidan said. He was quiet for a minute. “The timing here seems to be virtually impossible. Richard was seen, then he disappeared—but he wasn’t put on the headless horseman until the very early hours of the morning. Whoever killed him must have gotten him out of the convention center and held him somewhere—dead or alive.”

      “Well, we need to find the crime scenes, too,” Mortenson responded. “Both victims were dead when they were beheaded, but you’re still going to have blood somewhere.”

      Aidan nodded, then indicated the bags of clothing and personal effects. “Wallet, cash, ID?” He already knew they were there; he’d checked before the medical examiner had taken Richard’s body from the vault.

      “Yes. Of course, I’m not a detective, but...no robbery. He had about a hundred in cash on him, several credit cards and his New York State driver’s license.”

      “No cell phone?” Aidan asked. “It didn’t show up in a secret pocket or anything?”

      Mortenson shook his head. “No cell phone.”

      “Purbeck was going to get a fix on its last location,” Van Camp murmured.

      “It’ll be the convention center,” Aidan said. “If this killer is a psychopath, he’s a smart one.”

      “Call us,” Voorhaven said, “if you get anything, anything at all.”

      “We need an ID on Jane Doe as soon as possible,” Van Camp pointed out.

      “I’m on it. Like I said, I’ve done dental impressions and taken her fingerprints. Swabbed her for DNA, but of course, we have to have something for comparison,” Mortenson said.

      “Has the image of the young woman you showed us been made public?” Aidan asked.

      “Definitely,” Mortenson said. “It’s been shown on the media. Uniforms are putting pictures up all over the city now.”

      Aidan left, followed by Voorhaven and Van Camp. “On to the strip club?” Voorhaven guessed.

      “I want to head over to the convention center to meet the assistant first,” Aidan said.

      “You never met him?”

      “No, I never had reason to, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen Richard.”

      Van Camp shrugged. “We questioned everyone. We had police in there from the county helping out. We searched. We asked the assistant and Highsmith’s people if they’d stay around another few days, and they were agreeable.”

      “The Fed doesn’t seem to think we did it right,” Voorhaven said in a low, sarcastic voice.

      Aidan didn’t have to answer; Van Camp did it for him. “Don’t start with that crap, Jimmy. We have dead people here. We’ll give Mahoney our total cooperation. Maybe he’ll learn something more. He’s a pair of fresh eyes and we have new info, as in bodies,” he said, turning to Aidan. “Forgive the kid. He’s a good cop, but like I said, new to having a detective’s badge.”

      “Sure.” Aidan shrugged “We don’t know what we have yet. I’d still like to talk to Highsmith’s assistant.”

      “Sorry, yeah,” Voorhaven muttered. “We have dead people. I guess I think we’re supposed to resent federal intervention. And Lee is right. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

      “We could split up, but I wouldn’t mind an introduction to Mr. Branch, the assistant,” Aidan said.

      “Of course,” Voorhaven agreed.

      “I’ll follow you,” Aidan told them.

      Van Camp nodded and led the way to the cars.

      Aidan paused, looking back at the morgue.

      Most of his life, he’d hated it when he saw—or imagined he saw—what others didn’t. He hated whatever it was that made him see the dead walking.

      He often denied it, even to himself.

      But right now...

      His thoughts were different.

       Talk to me again, my friend. Talk to me, please. Talk to me again.

       3

      Somehow, Mo managed to get work done during the day, although she did keep the television on and listened as the news repeated the morning’s findings over and over again.

      A police СКАЧАТЬ