Page 31 of A Deeper Darkness

“Did ballistics come back on the bullet recovered from the scene?”

Fletcher caught Hart’s eye, saw the amusement in them. He was enjoying this, damn him.

“No,” Fletcher said slowly. “We’re expecting the report back any time now. Dr. Owens, can I ask? What’s your tie to Edward Donovan? Why did his mother call you?”

She got a faraway look on her face, brief, fleeting, then snapped back. “Donovan and I went to med school together. Georgetown. We’ve known each other for a long time. Eleanor just wanted to do right by him.”

Fletcher wondered if that was the real reason she was here, but it was plausible enough.

“So other than the sand, did you find out anything else that might help?”

She shook her head. He liked the way her hair swirled around her neck when she did it. She was a deceptive package. On the surface, so strong, smart, capable. But broken inside. Fragile. She needed protecting. And boy, how he’d be happy to be of service.

Hart coughed, and Fletcher realized he was staring. He closed the file.

“Thank you for coming by, Dr. Owens. If we find anything, we’ll be sure to let you know.”

“That’s it?” Her eyebrows arched. “Seriously?”

“What would you like me to say? This is good information, and we’ll hold it in consideration as all of the facts come in.”

She shook her head again, her eyes becoming frank and assessing. “Don’t even think about blowing me off. Something isn’t right here, and we both know it. What aren’t you telling me?”

Pretty, and perceptive, too. A bad combination.

Hart spoke up, and Fletcher strongly considered strangling him.

“Another soldier from Donovan’s unit was murdered. Yesterday.”

The M.E. shut her mouth tightly, her lips compressing into a thin line. Fletcher could swear he felt shadows swirl around the room, darkening the walls with foreboding.

He needed to nip this in the bud, and quick.

“We have nothing to prove that these two cases are related.”

Owens laughed, humorless and sharp. “Except your gut, telling you there’s no such thing as coincidence. Did you run it through ViCAP yet? There could be related cases in other states. Have you talked to Donovan’s commanding officer and gotten a list of everyone in his unit? Better yet, they keep those records at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri—you can make a request for the files right away. You have to move fast, Detective. Tick-tock. Time’s a-wastin’.”

“Jesus, you sound like a cop.”

“I’m a medical examiner in a city that has over a hundred murders a year. I have been for a very long time. And my best friend has spent most of her career in Homicide. We’ve seen a lot. She’s the one who taught me coincidence doesn’t exist. Not when people are dying all around you. Something else is going on here. I don’t know what, but I’d like to help you get to the bottom of it.”

“She’s right, Fletch.”

Hart. Traitor to the cause. Fletcher gave him the evil eye for a moment before returning his gaze to the pathologist. He checked his libido and really looked this time. Used his gift, his ability to read people. She let herself be read, dropped the walls. She was right. And she knew he knew it.

Someone whistled, and Fletcher dragged his eyes away. His admin, Danny Rama, stood in the door.

“Yo, Danny. What’s up?”

“Lots of good news. Ballistics on the Donovan and Croswell murders you asked for. You’re gonna want to see this.”

Fletched snapped his fingers, and Danny brought him the file. He ignored both Owens and Hart, opened the heavy manila folder.

Son of a bitch.

“What is it?” Hart asked. Owens just sat, watching them, beatific and serene, as if she already knew what the report said.

“According to the wife, Donovan carried a 9 mm Beretta in the car, right?”