“Sheppard, nice to see you.” Chief Medical Examiner Raven Lockwood waved Grace in through the open door to the autopsy room.
“You too,” Grace said, her gaze lingering on the only metal gurney covered with a sheet. “How’ve you been?”
“Doing well, thanks,” she said, leading Grace over to the body. “I’m actually seeing someone new. I don’t know why I just blurted that out. I think I’m nervous.”
Lockwood beamed, and Grace noted the goosebumps on her arms as a juxtaposition of a happy woman in such a sad, cold, clinical place.
“Gone on many dates?”
“Third one’s tonight,” she said, sliding on a pair of blue latex gloves. “Before him, I hadn’t had a date in two years.”
“I can relate. I can’t remember the last time I was on a date.” The truth slipped out, a reaction to Lockwood’s candor.
“Tall Pines doesn’t exactly give the widest selection of people to date though. Anyway, I’m finally back in the saddle. My last relationship wasn’t a good one. I was kind of put off for a while.”
“I see.” Grace folded her arms in front of her. “Well, I’m happy you’ve found someone.”
“How about you? Seeing anyone since you’ve moved here?”
Grace laughed, shaking her head.
“See? Not much selection,” Lockwood said.
“Well, it’s not all bad.”
Mac’s not all bad.
“They say it happens when you’re not looking, you know,” Lockwood said as Mac walked in.
Grace pressed her lips together, nodding, hoping to end their talk before Mac caught wind of it.
“How does Sheppard always beat you here when you live closer?” Lockwood asked.
“Kenzie’s coming tonight,” Mac said, smiling, “so I had to do some last minute stuff. Today’s packed as it is, so let’s get started.”
“Right.” Lockwood pinched both corners of the sheet and pulled it off the vic, past his face and torso. A hazy purple line ran along his neck.
That’s odd. I’ve seen that in vics who have hung themselves.
Three puncture wounds, all located in a concentrated area just beneath his rib cage stood out against his pale chest.
“The puncture wounds to the chest and abdomen came before the throat,” Lockwood said. “This one hit a lung.” Lockwood pointed to the top wound. “It entered at an upwards angle. The lung filled with blood. Then, this next one just missed his gall bladder, entering the liver. The last one here punctured the ascending colon.”
“Ugh.” Mac shook his head. “Okay, so what’s with the throat?”
“I’ve determined ultimate C.O.D. was strangulation.”
“Wouldn’t he have died without that?”
“I received his clothing,” she said, taking a clear baggie from the metal side table, “including his tie, which was used to strangulate the vic.”
“So someone brought a sharp object to stab him with,” Grace said, “but then what? He wasn’t dying fast enough? Or maybe he was putting up too much of a fight, so the killer used what they had right there. His tie to choke him to death?”
“Speaking of sharp objects.” Lockwood handed Grace the file, and Mac moved beside her, looking over his shoulder as his cologne wafted toward her. A welcome reprieve from the stale scent of the refrigerated body, yet with sharp notes of alcohol and bleach. “See there? Each stab wound ran roughly seven inches deep, indicating there was a level of precision and control there, or, more likely, that was the length of the weapon.”
“Looks like a knife,” Mac said.
Lockwood pointed to the diagram in front of Grace. “Based on the stab wounds, I’d say his attacker came from directly in front of him, and the way the tie was pulled to the right, and the way the blood pooled, he was sitting in the car at the time of death and afterwards for not long after he died.”
“Time of death?” Grace asked.
“I have it listed at ten PM.”
“Fifteen minutes before the guests left to send off the bride and groom,” Grace muttered.
“And based on the time your sister called you, witnessing the fight, he was outside for about forty-five minutes after they left him, but before he was found.”
“Not a narrow time frame.” Grace shook her head.
“The killer might have been watching,” Mac said. “Knew once everyone left the vic out alone, they had their chance. If someone came, they would’ve silenced him by choking him.”
“Or the killer knew when the send off was,” Grace said. “They might have known how much time they had and escaped with minutes to spare.”
“Any other markings?” Mac asked.
“Bruised right cheek, almost fully healed. Then I found some bruising on the abdomen that was fairly recent as well. I’d say the bruises all occurred at roughly the same time.”
“Can you say what caused it?” Mac asked.
“It’s consistent with blunt force trauma,” she said. “Beyond that I can’t tell. If it had happened the night he died, it would be easier to tell.”
“Anything else?” Mac asked, taking the file from Grace’s hands and skimming through it.
“Broken arm a long time ago, back in his childhood. Two dental implants for his top front teeth. Nothing else serious to note. Nothing that hasn’t already healed except what I told you. I’ve sent some blood samples to the lab, but I’d guess you’ll have better luck with the DNA collected on his clothes and from the car.”
“It’s all closer to the left side,” Mac said, “so the killer wasn’t in the car with him then.”
“She said the stab wounds came from the front and the strangulation in the car.” Grace grabbed for the file, but he held it back.
“No fighting, you two,” Lockwood said and handed Grace her own file. “I thought this might be needed, but I was hoping things had settled down between you two.”
“Oh, they have,” Mac smirked. “This is what settled looks like for us.”
“Is that right?”
Grace shook her head. “One step forward…”
“Well, you’re both smiling, so it can’t be that bad.”
“Anything else unusual?” Grace asked before pursing her lips, eager to regain focus.
“Nothing under the nails, no defensive wounds,” she said.
“So this happened fast.” Mac looked down at the vic. “His parents and widow are coming in this afternoon?”
Lockwood nodded.
“We received a sort of complaint from the widow passed on to us by the vic’s mom, so just be aware,” Mac said, tapping the file. “And sensitive. Thanks.”
Lockwood nodded, and Mac strode toward the door, stopping when he realized Grace wasn’t right behind him.
“Sheppard?”
“Have fun tonight,” Grace said, giving her a small nod.
“Ugh, thanks,” Lockwood grinned. “So much pressure.”
“Sometime today?” Mac called.
Lockwood raised her brows and opened her mouth to say something, but Grace did first. “Sorry, was I supposed to hold your hand and guide you out to your car?”
“Ha,” Lockwood let out a huff of air and nodded.
Mac muttered to himself, scratching his head and using his body to push the door open with a straight face.
“Take care.” Grace strode to the door as Mac held it open for her, holding his hand out toward her with a grin and wiggling his fingers.
“Oh, go on,” Grace laughed and pushed his shoulder, grabbing the door for herself. As she glanced over her shoulder, Lockwood smirked at her, giving her a knowing nod.
She sees there’s something going on between us. I don’t even know what it is, but she sees it.
“Tarek’s got the cell records for us,” Mac said before they split up, walking back to their cars. “Hey, I thought you’d walk me to my car?” He held his hand out again for her to hold.
She shook her head, unable to wipe the grin off her face, and she slid into her own car.
Tarek handed her the cell records as Mac joined them, balancing three coffee cups in his hands.
“Thanks.” Tarek took one.
Grace put hers on the table in front of her. “I’m getting sick of drinking out of Styrofoam. Do you know how bad it is for the environment?”
Mac stood on the other side of her, leaning over her shoulder again to see the reports.
I can’t concentrate with him standing like that. So close.
“They go back six months,” Tarek said, sitting in the chair beside them. “Not much variety.”
Grace stepped aside and put the papers on the table before sitting beside him.
“What do you mean?” Mac asked, grabbing a chair of his own.
“He rarely called anyone except his wife, Marie Boyd, and even then, the calls never lasted long. Those are highlighted in pink. A few to his parents’ number, the Boyds—orange. Then he texted most people. They’re all there. Your special request for financial records is coming right up, hopefully today. Do you need me to go over the call logs with you, or?”
“Naw, we’ll be fine,” Mac said, pulling his chair up to the table beside her.
“Thanks, Tarek,” Grace said, and he left the room. “I want to know who Cory was talking to during the wedding. He kept taking calls outside.”
Mac laid the papers out across the table, focusing on the first one.
“Okay, his last communication was… an outgoing call to Brad Hensen.” Mac highlighted the name and number. “His business partner’s personal cell phone. 8:43 PM.”
“For just under ten minutes. Todd was saying Cory stepped out to take calls, so that was the last one, shortly before he called Marie outside.”
Grace leaned over the table and ran her finger down the other numbers. “One incoming call from Brad the day prior, but then nothing from him for...at least a week.”
“Okay, we’re going to pay Brad a personal visit,” Mac said, standing up straight and writing his name on the dry erase board. “Our first suspect. He spoke to Cory right before our witnesses say there was the whole debacle outside.”
“Could have put him in a bad mood.” Grace read over the rest of the first page as Mac wrote out the call times on the board.
“Otherwise, the majority of the communication was to and from Marie. Two incoming calls from his parents that week, likely his mom.”
“That’s it?”
“For the first page. That goes back a week. I need to look into these more in depth.”
“Okay, but let’s focus on Brad Hensen,” Mac said. “Highlight all the calls to and from him, the business number, his cell number…”
“I got it.” Grace grabbed a highlighter. “You start a few months before they opened their business, and I’ll start from the present. We’ll meet in the middle—“
“Doubtful,” Mac smirked.
Grace rolled her eyes and took a seat. Wordlessly, they poured over the pages for almost an hour, spreading them out onto the table once finished.
“You see the pattern?” Grace asked, taking a step back to join Mac where he stood.
Constant initial contact between Brad and Cory that tapered off as the months went on.
She marvelled over the papers as Mac studied them.
“Lots of texts and calls back and forth the month they opened the business.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Then a cool-off period for two months, until this month. Then there’s a few more.”
“Right.” Glad you’ve caught up. “They barely communicated at all before they opened the business. It’s like when Cory won the money, he just called up an old friend on a whim, and they decided to make a long-ago pipe dream come true.”
“No time to plan. They just bought the place a few weeks after Cory’s initial contact with Brad.”
Mac nodded. “Something happened there. From what you told me your sister heard, I’m going to guess it was about money.”
If money was an issue for the business, it would have gotten between their friendship. It would have become personal.
She turned to Mac. “That phone call could be not just a stressor, but the trigger that led to Cory’s murder.”
Mac grabbed the dry erase marker and strode to the board.
Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“It’s almost dinner time,” he said after writing “business money” as a motive on the board.
“You’re thinking about food again? When we just had a breakthrough?”
Mac laughed and shook his head, setting the marker down. “The store is closed, but even if he works elsewhere, chances are he’d be home for dinner, no?”
Grace grabbed her jacket, and Mac followed her out of the room.
“Let’s take your car.”
Grace frowned. “Sure, why?”
“I don’t want us to look too official.”
“Good idea. We can make it seem like it’s just a routine call to get more information.”
“What did you just say?” Mac asked, holding the door open for her.
“Like a routine—“
“Nope,” he said, following her out to her car. “You said ‘good idea.’ Glad you’re finally recognizing.”
Grace kept walking to the car, refusing to give him the attention he apparently desired and refusing to break the tension between them with words on the drive to the Hensen’s.
Maybe I like the attention too.