Page 4 of Secrets Beneath the Waves (Beach Read Thrillers #2)

CHAPTER

FOUR

“Well now. This is interesting, isn’t it?” The white-coated forensic technician, Carl Swanson, had a British accent that was thicker now than when he’d introduced himself to them.

He wore a light purple dress shirt and black slacks over dress shoes with rubber soles.

When he bent over the severed hand—the only thing on the long metal table—Ramon saw that he had thinning hair on top.

The crown of his head held only thin strands of dark brown hair with plenty of scalp showing underneath.

Zeyla wandered away from his side, where she’d stopped.

She ambled over to a noticeboard on the wall, next to the huge metal sink.

The wall also contained several doors, the small metal ones that indicated a body was stored within.

The temperature in here was chilly, like early morning in fall. Still, Ramon could smell the hand.

“You were a medical examiner?” Ramon shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

The staff at Pioneer Forensics hadn’t asked a lot of questions but had been eager to get a look at the hand. Doctor Swanson had shooed out a couple of techs wearing black scrubs.

“Was. In Chicago, for twenty-three years. Retirement brought me out west, closer to the kids and grandkids.” He frowned, peering closely at the hand before he slid over a magnifying glass with a light on it to get a better look.

“Do you get many bodies in here?”

“It’s not only city employees who get to perform autopsies. We often have families wanting a second opinion or seeking closure as to their loved ones’ manner of death.” His voice trailed off. “Interesting.”

Zeyla came back over. “What can you tell us about the hand?”

“Before I do that, I’ll need you both to clarify if you’d like the results of this test in a format that will be sent over to the local police.”

Ramon had brought the box with him and worn gloves when he touched it. He doubted Zeyla’s fingerprints were in the system, but he wasn’t so fortunate. Pioneer Forensics Labs now had possession of the box, sealed in an evidence bag.

Doctor Swanson straightened.

Ramon said, “We want the police to be informed.”

Zeyla whacked his arm.

“Although, preferably at a specific time.”

The doctor smirked a little. “Given what I know of the police in this city, that’s probably wise.”

Ramon didn’t need to get into why the man seemed to hold a grudge. It wasn’t his job here to fix a problem or correct injustice. He was here to keep Zeyla safe while she found this Count of Shadows person.

He’d passed that on to Maizie after Zeyla started snoring on the couch in his hotel room.

When he woke up this morning, she’d been gone, but she showed up with coffee just after eight.

Maizie hadn’t found anything online about the Count of Shadows, and they’d both researched all over.

There was no way to search the dark web since it wasn’t indexed—which made it unsearchable.

To find something, you had to know where to find it.

So, they’d searched everywhere they were able to, locally and across the world, and come up with nothing. Which was interesting, considering he’d expected a comic strip character or something from a Victorian-era novel, at least.

This morning, Zeyla hadn’t mentioned the night before once, except to tell him she’d heard from Maizie that there was a local forensics lab they could pay for a private consultation.

Zeyla moved back to his side now, so close her shoulder brushed his. As if they were partners. She pointed to the table. “The hand?”

Doctor Swanson lifted the hand, and it was the sight of his hand in a protective cream-colored glove that made Ramon shiver.

Not the severed limb. Why did he always react to gloves like that?

But there didn’t have to be a reason. As far as he was concerned, they gave him the same sensation as other people felt from the word “moist.”

Swanson studied the cut edge, just above where the wrist bones would be.

“The dismemberment was done by a professional. This is a surgical, clean cut with an extremely sharp implement. As you can likely tell from the smell alone, it was done some time ago. There’s clotting, but no recent bleeding.

No evidence of decay, so either it occurred within the last week or this thing has been preserved in some way. ”

“So it could be old, and we have no way to know?” Ramon scratched his jaw. “Except that she was alive when her hand was cut off.”

“Once I run some bone density and DNA tests, we’ll know more.

I’ll also run the fingerprints and see if there’s a match in the databases we have access to.

If I can’t find a match, I’ll need to reach out to law enforcement to ascertain if they can give us an ID on the hand.

At which point, they’ll be asking some uncomfortable questions about where the hand came from. ”

“I’ll be gone by then.” Zeyla stopped abruptly. “I mean, Pioneer can liaise with the police, right? You guys do that?”

Swanson frowned at her. “It’s not our job to protect you from the police.”

“It makes them accomplices to any crime you’ve committed,” Ramon explained.

“Who says I committed a crime?” Zeyla blinked, the picture of innocence. “Or that you haven’t.”

When Ramon looked at him, Swanson was still frowning. The doctor said, “Pioneer Forensics operates within the boundaries of the law, with discretion and a team of lawyers. If we have a problem, I’ll be forthcoming about that.”

“And in exchange,” Ramon said, “we’ll be forthcoming about our intentions.”

Swanson nodded, then looked again at the hand. “There’s some kind of substance under the nails. I’ll take samples and test them. It may tell us the kind of environment this woman was in prior to having the hand removed, or it may be DNA deposited as a result of her fighting back.”

“How long will it take to get the results?”

“If you want it today, that’ll cost extra.”

Ramon said, “Consider it done.”

Doctor Swanson removed his gloves, and they shook hands.

On the way out the front door, Ramon dropped the company credit card. He didn’t miss Zeyla’s reaction to that, but she held off asking about it until after they left the glass-fronted building at the edge of an industrial area.

The parking lot was full, but he didn’t see anyone else around.

No Miguel. No other snipers.

“You want the cops to know Banbury Investigations is involved?”

Ramon shifted his thoughts from wondering how long—after he sought medical treatment for that stab wound—before Miguel would be coming after them again to Zeyla and the conversation she wanted to have. “These guys seemed legit. There was no reason to use an untraceable bank card.”

“Still seems risky.”

“I know you prefer anonymity. But if there’s going to be a court case against whoever was behind the severed hand, things need to be aboveboard so the defense has no angle to argue technicalities on the charges presented by the district attorney. Right?”

“Hmm. I guess.”

His guess would be that she also preferred a decisive resolution.

She’d already scoffed at the idea they might seek justice against Dominatus using conventional means.

Given the group was international, that would probably mean the International Criminal Court brought the charges.

He had to admit that it did seem like a long shot.

The man he wanted to be needed to seek justice the right way, not using the methods Zeyla or someone like Miguel might use to right a wrong.

But he could see how she’d think that was less than effective, or at least slow and risky.

However, she couldn’t possibly put a bullet between the eyes of every person involved with a group spread across the world.

He stopped by his car, which they’d brought. She had left hers at the hotel where he was staying and opted to ride with him—something that surprised him. “Where to now?”

“Let’s go visit my contact.” She pulled open her door and slid into the passenger seat.

Ramon turned on the car, and she tapped the screen, entering a location that wasn’t exactly an address. More like a general area.

“Two hours’ drive to get there. You want to grab coffee?”

Zeyla shrugged. “I’ll take a chai. I don’t drink coffee.”

Ramon bit back a sarcastic comment about that being an indication of something being wrong with her. He didn’t want to battle with her or come across like he was flirting. There was already enough tension between them, and he didn’t need it getting personal.

He swung by a drive-through coffee place and got her a chai, plus her requested chocolate croissant. He grabbed himself black coffee—because it was a moral high ground—and a breakfast burrito.

The GPS indicated it was two hours to the spot she’d pinned on the map, and she fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Or she was pretending, which was fine by him. He took the chance to get some perspective and think over everything.

Miguel was likely going to turn out to be a serious problem.

Added to the already serious problem of whatever was going on that resulted in a severed hand. He wasn’t going to leave Zeyla here to fend for herself. He needed to see it through.

Sure, the task was only to check if she was all right and see if she needed backup. But he couldn’t, in all good conscience, walk away when she might get herself into a situation where she did need backup, and he was hundreds of miles away.

Ramon’s phone rang, so he tapped the button on his steering wheel and answered. “Santiago.”

“It’s just me.” Maizie.

“How’d your paper go?”

“It’s gone, and I don’t want to think about it.”

He’d rather have talked about the Spartans with her because he thought ancient history was interesting, but he figured he wasn’t about to understand a young adult woman anytime soon. Their relationship didn’t need that shared interest in order to survive. “Fair enough. Do you have anything for me?”

She likely wouldn’t have called otherwise, but she might just want to complain about something or shoot the breeze.

Maizie said, “There’s not much on this Miguel guy. I got more on the doctor at Pioneer Forensics.”

“Something interesting in Swanson’s background?”

“Depends if you think this is interesting,” she said.

“Four years ago, he was assigned the remains for several murders. Ones that the police department was attributing to a serial killer. They refused FBI help, trying to keep it in-house instead. The mayor and the police chief went on TV over and over, giving information about the case and warning people to be careful, but the evidence Doctor Swanson found indicated the bodies were all killed by different people. When his reports didn’t match the narrative that they were sticking to, he was fired.

There were several arrests, and the police chief and the mayor were back on TV telling everyone the convictions were due to the tireless efforts of local law enforcement, despite how they were ‘stonewalled’—their word—by the ME’s office. ”

“They forced him out?”

Zeyla shifted in her seat in a way that let him know she was awake or waking up.

“Just for pointing out what they didn’t want to believe,” Maizie said. “Or so it looks.”

Ramon spotted a turnoff coming up, an exit on this two-lane highway with few cars. “Or he just got sick of the bureaucracy. There’s usually more money in the private sector.”

“You’re looking for a job?” Maizie asked, her voice tense.

“Of course not. I’m already making more money in the private sector.” And it was legitimate money. Even filing his taxes felt like another step in the right direction toward living a clean life. “There’s no way I’m going back to law enforcement even if they ask me. Which they won’t.”

Zeyla glanced over at him. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

Ramon signed off with Maizie and ended the call. He took the turn indicated on his GPS. “Wanna tell me why we drove two hours into the middle of nowhere?”

“This is where he lives.” She motioned to a clearing, and he parked at the edge just in case he had to turn quickly and head back the way they’d come.

“My contact, who left the intel at that PO box, lives out here. But there’s a reason I do a pickup in town instead of coming out here. He doesn’t like uninvited guests.”

Ramon peered over the steering wheel at the ring of trees with grass in the center. A couple of blackbirds flew out of the top of a tree, up into the sky. “There’s nothing here.”

“We have to hike.”

Ramon frowned, pushing open the car door and meeting her at the front end. “How far?”

“Are you going to ask questions the whole time?”

“Just tell me how far. I’ll change my shoes if it’s rough terrain.” He wore boots with jeans, a T-shirt, and jacket, pretty much like always.

“You’ll be fine.” She tromped off across the clearing.

He pocketed his keys and followed her between the trees on the left side, then along a thin trail that snaked through the woods. “This path isn’t wide enough.”

“It’s a deer trail.”

“Are we going to see an animal? Should I have packed a rifle?”

She chuckled, walking fast ahead of him. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the wildlife, City Boy.”

He was about to respond back that he’d spent plenty of time in the wild when her footsteps faltered.

She reached her hand up to a branch over the path about her shoulder height. The branch had been broken. “This has blood on it.”

Zeyla took off running.