Page 7 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

What she didn’t realize was that she was giving away more than she wanted to every time she spoke. Giving him more than enough evidence to draw conclusions. In a lot of ways, they were similar, and she was a whole lot like Kenna as well. But he’d love the chance to get to know her more, just to affirm he was right to put his faith in her and trust her to watch his back.

Ramon looked at the hand again. “We need a private forensics lab that doesn’t ask questions but who will testify in court as to their findings if it comes to that.”

“You still think taking down our enemies is going to happen because we brought them to justice?” She laughed, and it had a hollow sound to it. “I don’t want any part of it because it isn’t going to work.”

“You have a better way to figure out whose hand this is?”

“Trace the source.” She closed her eyes. “The guy who was supposed to be leaving me intel, but instead, he left me that.”

“Why are you in Spokane, Zeyla?”

“This place has its charms.” She exhaled, relaxing into the couch a little more.

“Not sure I’d agree with that.” He stared at her. “You’re falling asleep.”

Her head lolled to the side, but she sucked in a breath and blinked. Trying to focus on the room, or him.

“Who are you looking for?”

“A myth.”

“Zeyla, who are you looking for?”

The severed hand was female, which meant it could be a friend or relative. Did she know someone who was missing that needed to be found? Why she wouldn’t have asked any of them for help was a mystery. That was right up their alley. It was what Banbury Investigations stood for.

Finding the lost and forgotten.

No matter who they were.

She shook her head, her eyes fluttering closed. “The Count of Shadows.”

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.