Bryce Trident loved his job, especially when he worked with Dr. Ogelsby. But Ogelsby was gone, and he had to train a new forensic pathologist to his ways. Yes, he would train this new doctor. Dr. O had taught him well, but he’d also been a student of Bryce’s. Bryce learned to train doctors when he was in graduate school for nursing. He got tired of being pushed around and unappreciated, so he started his own school, in his mind, and it didn’t take long before the doctors called for him specifically.
“What do you see here?” Dr. Glen McClaren, his new student, asked.
“I see a dead body.”
“Cut the crap, Bryce, tell me.”
Bryce had looked the body over before Dr. McC came in. In fact, he’d prepared the body for the young doctor. And by young, Bryce thought he was in his early forties. Dr. O had been nine-hundred years old, plus or minus a decade.
“Based on the toxicology reports, and the weird bruising at the top of his head, I think this guy either died, or would have died of a drug overdose, had someone not pulled him to a standing position by the hair on the top of his head, and shot him through the base of his skull.”
Dr. McClaren frowned, looked closer at the top of the victim’s skull, then said, “That very well could be. I agree with the assessment of the overdose. This guy was dead one way or the other. The bullet made a point somehow. Made it final, just in case the drugs didn’t.”
Bryce knew his job well. He’d been prepping and examining victims for more than a decade. More often than not, the victim proved to be a drain on society. Yes, innocent people died too, and he had a harder time with those bodies. After his first year in the forensic lab, he chose to see the bodies as peanut shells. The soul could still hover, but it no longer resided inside the peanut shell. He had no issues tearing apart a peanut shell. And the best part of the job: no attitude, well, except from a few cops and the doctor. He didn’t have enough time with the cops to get them trained, but Dr. McC was coming along nicely.
“We have three people from Peculiar: two shot in the back of the head, and one in the throat, but we don’t have the bullet from the first victim.”
“Have we gotten the tests on the bullets?” Bryce asked.
“They pulled one from the cabinet of the house where this guy was found. That went in for testing. I haven’t had a good look, but the throat shot may have lodged in the victim’s spine. No bullet was found in the room where he was killed. Once we have it, I’ll have the lab test it. I’m a betting man, and I’d bet at least these two bullets are from the same gun.”
Bryce snickered. “Duh.”
“Smartass. There’s always a chance it’s different guns.”
“Do you think the guy found in the trunk met the same gun?”
Dr. McClaren shrugged. “The burn pattern certainly looks similar on him and on this patient. But I doubt they’ll ever find that bullet.”
A knock sounded at the door to the lab. Bryce turned to see Kate’s face smashed against the small window.
“That’s my sister. She’s working this case. Can she come in?” Bryce said.
Dr. McClaren concentrated on Andy’s scalp, but nodded.
Bryce waved Kate in.
“Thanks. Who do we have here?” Kate said as she came through the door and immediately went to the closet to cover and glove up.
“This is Dr. Glen McClaren,” Bryce said.
Kate pulled on the gown, not bothering to tie it, then slipped gloves over her hands. She already had her hair pulled back, so she covered it with a surgical cap. “Dr. McClaren is the victim? I thought you were working on one of my victims.”
The doctor looked up. “We aren’t really set up for visitors. Is there something I can help you with?”
Kate blanched. She’d been in the lab many times with Dr. Ogelsby. “Oh, hi, I’m sorry. I didn’t know we had a new forensic pathologist.”
“Dr. O retired. You should really try to listen when I talk to you, if you’re going to keep visiting unannounced,” Bryce said, then handed Dr. McClaren some forceps.
“Dr. Oglesby trained you well,” Dr. McClaren said.
“Yeah,” Bryce said, trying hard to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“We’re looking at poor Mr. Andy Foss,” Dr. McClaren said. “And you are?”
“I’m looking at you, looking at Andy Foss,” Kate said.
“He meant, who are you, stupid.” Bryce rolled his eyes.
Kate glared at Bryce. “I’m Kate Darby. Andy Foss might be part of another murder I’m investigating.”
Dr. McClaren stood tall and turned to look at Kate. He pulled down his face mask and smiled his broad smile of pearly whites, the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deepening. Bryce could see Kate appreciated the man’s military haircut, broad smile, dark brown eyes, and tanned skin. Bryce didn’t really think of Dr. McClaren as good-looking, until he saw him through Kate’s eyes.
Bryce worked hard to be handsome. Several laser treatments for the acne scars he’d gained as a teen made his skin smoother, but he’d never have that polished skin most guys had. He still had huge pores and had learned to live with them. The drug binge he continued until deciding to get a life didn’t help, either. It had taken its toll on his body. Being vain, Bryce worked out religiously, when he wasn’t working. He showered at least twice a day to keep his skin fresh, always worried the acne would return. He’d never have the dark skin women loved, but he didn’t care. Women still slept with him, and that’s all that mattered. He wasn’t looking for Mrs. Right, only Ms. Right Now. He didn’t have time for a relationship. He spent too much time with work and keeping his appearance maintained.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Kate. Bryce tells me you’re his sister. You don’t look anything alike. I guess that’s lucky for you. But you sure act like siblings.”
Bryce flipped the doctor off behind his back.
“We’re foster siblings. We were both adopted by the same family,” Kate said, moving closer to the examination table.
“Different last names?”
Bryce cleared his throat. “I was older when I was adopted, so I kept my last name. My parents were cool with it. A man needs to keep his family tree thriving. If I took their name, my tree would die with me. Can’t be having that.”
The doctor returned his concentration to Andy. “Absolutely not.”
“Not like he’ll ever stick with a girl long enough to have kids, but maybe a one-night stand will get pregnant,” Kate said.
“If I learned one thing from my foster dad, it was,” Bryce changed his voice, “‘always wear a raincoat, never trust the girl.”’
“Funny thing, Dad told me to never trust the guy,” Kate laughed.
Once the doctor turned away, Kate wiggled her brows. Bryce stuck his gloved finger in his mouth to gag. He pulled it out just as the doctor looked up.
“What do we know?” Kate stepped up to the table.
“We know he’s dead,” Bryce said.
“You’re in a mood. Didn’t get laid last night?” Kate said.
“Definitely siblings,” Dr. McClaren said, laughing. “I’m pretty sure the fentanyl killed him. From the looks of it, he was either dead, or nearly dead, from the drugs, and then someone lifted him by the hair on the top of his head to put the bullet through the back of his brain. Knocked out a few teeth in the process. Point blank range. We’re going to compare the burns along with the bullets. Whoever did this didn’t realize how close to dead our Andy already was, or he wouldn’t have wasted a bullet.” He shrugged, then said, “Or maybe he still would have.”
“Interesting,” Kate tried to sound interested, but Bryce knew better.
“What are you looking at now, Dr. McClaren?” Kate asked.
“Please, call me Glen,” he said, pushing Andy’s shoulder off the table and turning him on his side in preparation to roll him over. “Look here.”
Bryce helped reposition Andy onto his stomach and flat on the table.
“Hesitation, I think. Look at that,” Bryce said, pointing to the bullet wound at the base of Andy’s skull.
“Good call, Bryce. This isn’t a solid burn mark. It’s like the gun was held against him, but then moved before they pulled the trigger. This guy’s brain stem was obliterated by the bullet.” He looked at Kate. “Forgive the lack of medical terms; I find cops usually haven’t studied medicine, so it’s easier to speak in laymen’s terms.”
“Thanks,” Kate said.
“Would a person who’d killed before hesitate?”
“I’m not a killer, but I’d think unless this guy was a friend or relative, a person in his line of work wouldn’t hesitate. But I can’t be sure.”
“Our current person of interest for this killing isn’t a novice. I can’t be sure he’s killed before, but I damn sure don’t think he’d hesitate. If this goes the way I think it will, this guy was killed by the dealer he worked with. Those guys don’t have feelings for the people who screw them over.”
“Maybe it’s something for your notes,” Glen said.
“What about the other body at the scene?” Kate asked.
Bryce was sure she didn’t remember the victim’s name without the file in front of her. “You mean Leon?”
Kate nodded, not humble enough to be embarrassed she didn’t remember the name.
“I haven’t looked at the toxicology report yet, and we haven’t examined the body. Either way, they are both dead.” Dr. McClaren continued to poke and prod at the top of Andy’s head. He looked up at Bryce. “Grab the saw and let’s give this guy a skull cap.”
With that, Kate said, “I’d better get out of your way. Thanks.”
“For what? We didn’t tell you anything,” Bryce said, handing the skull saw to the doctor.
“For letting me know about the fentanyl and the burn marks. The fentanyl tells me some bad drugs are obviously being circulated. I’ll have to talk to Zane about this.”
Dr. McClaren said, “Zane?”
Bryce answered before Kate could. “Her ex-husband and her boss, Sergeant Zane Gwilly. Hopefully soon to be Lieutenant Gwilly.”
“Not married, huh?” was not the response Bryce expected out of the doctor.
“Not married,” Kate said. “You?”
McClaren answered with a smile Kate didn’t see. Bryce smiled because he knew this guy was hot for his sister. “Not anymore.”
Bryce didn’t want to be a witness to their flirting, so he said, “Got time for lunch? We’re taking a break right after Andy.”
“I don’t. But come by the house after work. You need to decide which room you’re going to live in.”
Bryce shook his head. “I’m fine where I am. That place is too far from the hospital.”
“The other day you were hot to move in. You said the bedrooms were larger than your apartment. Have you been talking to Zane? He said the house was too far from town.”
“I haven’t been talking to Zane. I still need to think it over. I’m not good with change,” Bryce said.
“What place?” McClaren asked.
“My sister inherited a pecan farm from the grandfather she never knew.”
“That’s sounds interesting. You’ll have to tell me the story sometime,” McClaren said as he started the skull saw.
Kate didn’t hear him as she stripped off her hat, gloves, and gown before bolting out of the room.
Bryce laughed out loud. “I’ll see you tonight. Want me to bring pizza or something?”
Kate was already out of the room and didn’t respond. He’d text her later.