Authors: Tami Dane
Blood of Eden (4 page)
Miss Zumwalt shook her head again. “No gunfire. I would've ducked for cover if I'd heard a gun.”
“Okay. Thank you for answering our questions.” JT flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. “Do you have a phone number where we can reach you if we have any more questions?”
Miss Zumwalt's eyes brightened. She ran a hand over her mussed hair, catching a thin tendril and curling it around her finger. “No, but you can always find me at St. Edith's during lunchtime. They serve the best soup. Maybe you'd like to join me sometime?” She gave poor JT a coquettish smile.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I'm afraid I can't. It's against agency rules.” JT glanced at me. “Do you have any other questions, Skye?” I shrugged. I couldn't think of any. “Thank you again, Miss Zumwalt. You've been very helpful.”
“I hope you catch whoever killed that nice woman. It's terrible of me to say this, but I'm grateful it wasn't me. You never know if you'll be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm thinking I almost was today, just like my friend Lulu.” She made the sign of the cross over her chest. “God rest her soul.” The fear in Miss Zumwalt's eyes couldn't be missed. “Lulu was buying some cigarettes in a 7-Eleven when it was robbed. Bastards shot her. For no reason.”
Again, I could relate. Once, years ago, I was almost mugged on campus. A man came out of nowhere and grabbed me. I had no idea what he was going to do. Luckily, a campus security officer saw it. He dashed to my rescue, and the man ran off. I'd never felt so helpless, vulnerable, or terrified before.
“We're going to do our best to help the police catch whoever did this. I promise.” I wrote down St. Edith's, and JT and I started back toward the rest of the team. I saw Chief Peyton talking to the local FBI field office liaison. Agent Fischer was talking to a couple of Baltimore police officers.
“I wasn't sure about that witness when we started,” I admitted before we were within earshot of the other agents. I didn't mention Miss Zumwalt's obvious flirting, figuring JT probably dealt with that kind of thing all the time. He clearly knew how to handle it.
JT nodded. “It's probably alcohol. But she gave us some good details. I wish she'd seen the victim collapse.”
I chewed on my pencil eraser as I reread my notes. “The purse was a good catch. I don't remember seeing the victim's handbag. Maybe it was a robbery. Or she could have collapsed. Miss Zumwalt thought she might have been ill.” I took a quick glance around. “This doesn't look like the best neighborhood. Someone could have stolen her handbag after she passed out.”
“The witness saw no blood. That would suggest the bite was an old wound.”
I stood next to a parked police car, intentionally positioning myself so I couldn't see the body. “Not necessarily. Puncture wounds don't always bleed, or if they do, they don't bleed for long.”
“Sure, but a puncture striking the jugular?”
I shrugged. “Could have missed the major blood vessels.”
“I guess it's possible.” JT stared over my shoulder, in the general direction of the dead body.
I cleared my throat. “I think I'll go find Chief Peyton, ask her what she'd like me to do next.”
“Sure.” JT gave me a knowing smile. “It gets easier, Skye. I promise. The first body's the worst.”
“Thanks.” I swear, I was so embarrassed my cheeks were hot enough to melt lead. I'd hoped he hadn't seen me throw up. So much for that.
JT, bless him, didn't say another word about my weak stomach. “The ME's here. Before I talk to him, I want to double-check and see if a purse has been found. We need to identify our victim.”
“Has her car been located?” I asked.
“Probably not, but we can check the meters and run the plates of any cars parked at the ones that are expired.”
“What about a bus?”
“Looks like there's a stop back there, so that's a possibility. I'll be looking at maps of the area later, once we've finished up here.”
I took one sweeping look around, at the old brick and concrete multistory structures crowded together. There had to be hundreds of people in the neighboring buildings. Which one had the victim been headed for when she'd died? And why had the killer chosen this location for the crime?
The traffic wasn't heavy, but it wasn't light either. And there were pedestrians walking around, people gathering at the bus stop, businesspeople walking to and from cars. It was a busy intersection, the meeting of not two but three roads. Behind me sat a homeless shelter; in front, some kind of large, sprawling building. To the left and right were a deli, beauty salon, and church. To me, it seemed like a very risky place to jump someone.
As I approached Chief Peyton, I overheard part of the conversation she was having with Agent Nelson from the Baltimore FBI field office.
Nelson was saying, “There haven't been any similar deaths reported, that I'm aware of. That's why we couldn't get the BAU in here. The locals don't think it's an FBI case.”
“You don't agree?” Chief Peyton asked as she gave me a slight nod, signaling for me to stay put and listen.
Nelson added, “Something just doesn't sit right with me. I'm hoping you'll get to the bottom of it.”
“We're going to do our best.” Chief Peyton's phone rang, and she glanced down at it, smiling. “Just a minute.” When Nelson acknowledged her with a nod, she stepped aside, out of both his earshot and mine, and flipped open the phone to answer.
That left me standing next to an agent I didn't know, an agent who had seen me throw up. I might as well have been wearing a big scarlet letter
N
for “Newbie” on my chest.
N
for “Newbie” on my chest.
I had no idea what to say. I tried to push aside my discomfort by focusing on the case.
Our job wasn't necessarily to gather evidence; that was the work of the local detectives and agents. We were there to interpret the evidence they uncovered, to determine if a paranormal element was involved in the crime. If there was one, we were to provide a profile of the creature responsible. It was all very
X-Files
.
X-Files
.
But, of course, we didn't have a profile yet. So, instead of standing there feeling out of place, I turned to look back in the direction the victim would have come from.
That's when I noticed the sign. The blue rectangle with a capital
H
in white.
H
in white.
“Excuse me, Agent Nelson, but is that a hospital?” I indicated the building on the opposite side of the street.
“Yep. That's Good Samaritan.”
Could that be a coincidence? My mother didn't believe in coincidences.
The victim had looked as if she might be sick.
She'd collapsed within eyesight of a hospital.
Seemed like the hospital might be a clue.
I asked, “Has anyone checked to see if our victim was a patient?”
Nelson nodded. “We checked both the ER and the cashier. Nobody fitting the victim's description was seen in the emergency room or clinic. Nor was anyone fitting her description discharged this morning. However, visiting hours start at nine. She could have been visiting a patient.”
“I see.” I took a few more notes.
Chief Peyton gave my arm a tap, letting me know she was back. “There may not have been another death like this in Baltimore, but there has been one in a town close by. Agent Nelson, the rest of my team will stay here with you and follow up. I'm going to take Skye and see what we can learn from the first victim.” She didn't wait for Nelson to respond before she started toward her Suburban. “Hurry up, Skye, we need to pay a visit to the hospital before the victim's body is released to the family.”
“Another death?” I echoed, trying to keep up. For a woman who needed three-inch heels to stand eye to eye with me, Chief Peyton sure could move fast. “Do you think we're looking for a serial killer?”
“I don't know yet, but I'm hoping the pathologist can tell us something useful. Let's go.”
Many have puzzled themselves about the origin of evil.
I am content to observe that there is evil, and that
there is a way to escape from it, and with this I begin
and end.
I am content to observe that there is evil, and that
there is a way to escape from it, and with this I begin
and end.
âJohn Newton
3
Hospitals aren't my favorite places. I hate the smell, that cloying combination of antiseptic and blood. The sounds of moaning patients, squeaking shoes, and chirping monitors. Certainly, the sight of fresh blood isn't high on my list of favorite things either.
So, of course, because hospitals make me uneasy, I had to be dragged to the very bowels of one on my first day on the job.
Down in the basement, where patients never tread.
Who would ever think that something surrounded by sand, silt, and clay could be so white? The floors, the walls, and the ceiling of the basement were stark white. The only color breaking the blinding glare were the little signs pointing the way through the maze of identical hallways to such thrilling locations as records. Accounting. And, of course, the morgue. We, however, had no need for the signs. We had a personal escort, a security guard who said very little as he led us to our destination.
I'm guessing I looked a little pale by the time we reached the morgue. Chief Peyton took one look at me and said, “If you'd rather stay outside, I understand.”
Bless her.
“However,” she continued, “I brought you along for a reason, and I'd like you to at least try to come in.”
Urgh.
I'd had one unfortunate episode with a recently deceased person today. Did I really need another one so soon? The answer, of course, was no. But there was this little problem. A job with the FBI, particularly the BAU, was going to involve regular exposure to dead people. Sooner or later, I was going to have to get over the wooziness.
Sooner was definitely better than later.
It was decided; I would go in.
Pulling my lips back in what I hoped was a passing attempt at a smile, I said, “Of course, I'll come in.”
“Excellent.”
In we went.
The pathologist who had conducted the autopsy was waiting for us, with the body laid out on the metal table, lights fully illuminated. Thankfully, a sheet covered the body from head to toe.
“Thank you for meeting with us.” Chief Peyton offered the doctor a hand.
The doctor gave it a shake. “Not a problem. Bob Davis.” Dr. Davis looked at me.
“Sloan Skye.” Standing as far back as possible, I gave a little wave. “The room's kind of small. I think I'd better stay out of the way.”
Dr. Davis nodded and turned his attention back to my boss. I surmised he was used to people reacting the way I had. “I have a Caucasian female, thirty-one years old. This was an interesting case, unique. I don't know exactly what you're looking for, or how it might be tied to your case in Baltimore, but I'm more than happy to share my findings.”
Chief Peyton moved a little closer to the table. “Thank you. I'm anxious to see what you discovered.”
The doctor uncovered the victim's head, neck, and chest. Even from a distance, the rash covering the woman's upper body was still visible. “This patient died ofâ”
“Typhoid?” I asked.
“Yes, this patient consumed food or water tainted with the bacterium
Salmonella enterica typhi
and later died from complications,” Dr. Davis explained. “Intestinal perforation and encephalitis.”
Salmonella enterica typhi
and later died from complications,” Dr. Davis explained. “Intestinal perforation and encephalitis.”
“But what about the puncture wounds on the neck you told me about?” Chief Peyton leaned over the table.
The doctor pointed to the side of the patient's neck farthest from Chief Peyton. “They're located here, just under the right ear. They are odd. Deep and fairly large. Bite wounds, not clean punctures. The skin is torn. But it doesn't appear they played a role in the patient's death. Whatever made them missed the major blood vessels.”
“Just like our victim in Baltimore.” Feeling okay at the moment, I moved a little closer, to get a look at the wound.
“Had the patient recently traveled out of the country?” Chief Peyton asked.
Dr. Davis picked up a clipboard and skimmed the chart. “The family said she hasn't.”
Peyton inspected the rash closer. “And that didn't strike you as odd?”
“Roughly four hundred Americans contract typhoid fever every year,” I commented, reciting a statistic I'd read a few years ago.
The doctor gave me a raised-brow look. “That's correct. So, no, it didn't. But what did strike me as odd is why this generally healthy patient, with no underlying health conditions, died from a disease with a relatively low fatality rate. I also question why she wouldn't have seen a doctor before it got to this stage. Treatment is generally successful. It isn't invasive or expensive.”
“Did you mention your concerns to her family?” Chief Peyton asked.
Dr. Davis set down the clipboard. “No. I felt it was better to let things be. I know it's difficult accepting loss. Why make it worse by giving the family a reason to wonder if the death might have been prevented?”
Whatever the reason for the woman not seeking medical care, the way I saw it, her death was obviously caused by a pathogen. Not a vampire.
Case closed.
“One more question,” Chief Peyton said. “What about blood volume? Was it low?”
Dr. Davis took a look at the chart again. “On the low side of average, no lower than if she'd donated blood the day before.”
“Okay. I guess that's it for now. Thank you, Doctor.”
He pulled the cover over the body and shook Chief Peyton's hand again. Within a handful of minutesâthank Godâwe were on our way back to the team's temporary home away from home, a conference room in Baltimore's Central District PD.
We'd just pulled up in front of the building when Chief Peyton's phone rang, pulling me out of the book she'd handed me when we left the hospital,
The Element Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures,
by John and Caitlin Matthews. Fascinating reading, but her phone conversation was more interesting. From her end, I figured something major had happened. I hoped it didn't mean we'd be making another trip to a morgue tonight.
The Element Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures,
by John and Caitlin Matthews. Fascinating reading, but her phone conversation was more interesting. From her end, I figured something major had happened. I hoped it didn't mean we'd be making another trip to a morgue tonight.
“There's been another death,” she told me as she maneuvered the car into a parking spot. My hollow stomach slid to my toes. “The victim has the same wounds on the neck. Another woman. She collapsed in front of a fabric store in Arlington, Virginia.”
“A third death?” This couldn't be a coincidence ... or could it? Three people dying suddenly, and all displaying what looked like bite marks on the same area of the neck. The odds were incredibly remote, considering the population in the city of Baltimore alone.
The chief didn't cut off the engine. She shifted in her seat, facing me. “You're doing a good job, Skye. You were thrown in the deep end of the pool, but I knew you'd swim okay. You're intelligent and, more important, you have good instincts.” She poked an index finger at my forehead. “Trust yourself.”
As long as I could remember, I'd been told I was smart, but somehow this was different. This meant more. “Thanks, Chief. I will.” My stomach rumbled loudly. Embarrassed, I jerked my arms around my waist.
“I want you to get JT up to speed on what we've learned.” Chief Peyton poked at the number pad on her cell phone. “I'm going to call him now and have him take you to get something to eat.”
“I am a little hungry.” I checked my watch. Eight hours had flown by since I'd walked into the FBI Academy this morning. I hadn't eaten lunch yet, and it was dinnertime. It was no wonder my eyelids felt like they were weighted down with sandbags.
“I need to get going.” Chief Peyton lifted her phone to her ear and waved me out. “JT leased a car for the day so the team could split up and get more accomplished. After dinner, he'll drive you back to Quantico, Sloan.”
“Great, thanks.”
As I scrambled out of the car, she reminded me, “Don't forget your bag.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” A smidge unsteady on my feetâlow blood sugarâI opened the back door and dragged my laptop bag off the backseat. Once I'd set it on the ground, I pulled the telescoping handle out and shut the door. And before Chief Peyton had maneuvered the car out of the parking spot, I headed toward the police department's entry, my bag's handle in one hand and Chief's book in the other.
When I stepped inside, I found JT standing at the front desk, chatting with the officer on desk duty. I gave him a wilted smile as I dragged my weary self toward him.
He hurried across the lobby. “You look tired.”
“I'm okay. Hungry.”
“Me too.” Proving himself a gentleman, he took my laptop case and together we headed outside. “The car's around the corner.” He pointed at a blue Chrysler. “Would you rather eat before heading back to Quantico, or wait?”
“If I wait, I may pass out.”
“Not a problem. The boys said the café down the street has good food. Would you rather drive or walk? It's only a block away.”
“We can walk. That's fine.”
JT reached for my laptop case. “I can throw this in the carâ”
“If you don't mind, I'd rather not.” I smiled, hoping he wouldn't think I'm crazy for insisting on dragging it around. “Call me paranoid, but I don't like to keep valuables in a car.”
“Actually, that's very smart. Can I carry it for you?”
“Only if you insist.”
“I insist.” JT fell into step beside me, dragging my laptop case behind him.
“Thank you.”
We headed into the cute little restaurant. The hostess escorted us to a table tucked in a cozy corner. We ordered sandwiches and drinks. As she scampered off to fill our orders, I rubbed my neck. It was stiff, sore. Thanks to JT, a few other bits of my anatomy were sort of achy too, but in a good way.
“What a weird and fascinating day,” I said. “Outside of making an ass out of myself at my first crime scene, I think it went pretty well.”
“You didn't make an ass out of yourself.”
Despite JT's sincere expression, I wasn't buying that. “Well, I don't think I made a good first impression with the detective,” I said, hiding my embarrassment under a chuckle. “Or the rest of the PBAU. Or the Baltimore PD... .”
“Hey, every one of them, including Peyton, probably hurled at their first murder scene too.”
“Probably.” Wondering why I'd even brought that up, I redirected the conversation into safer territory, tried to lighten the mood. “Judging from today, I think this is definitely going to be a summer I'll never forget. Probably more exciting, and disturbing, than the year I worked for a traveling carnival. Let me tell you, I saw some freaky stuff that summer.”
“You were a carny?” JT laughed. I liked his laugh. And I liked the way his eyes twinkled when he was laughing. “Hopefully, you didn't see any dead bodies ...”
“... with bite marks on their necks?” I finished for him. “No, no dead bodies. Or vampires. Thank God. It wasn't a bad job. Except for the food. And the scary clowns.”
“Speaking of shitty summer jobs, one year I was a mascot for a restaurant. I had to wear this ugly dog outfit and stand outside for hours, waving at cars as they drove by. I think I scared more people away than anything. And yes, before you ask, it's hotter than hell in there.” JT gave me a funny look, the kind a guy might give a girl on a first date.
I swallowed hard.
As our eyes met, I reminded myself this man was off-limits. Period. It sucked, since I was already beginning to see that JT was not only very good-looking, but also intelligent, easy to talk to, and he seemed to
get
me. There weren't a lot of JTs in the world.
get
me. There weren't a lot of JTs in the world.
“So,” we said in unison. We shared a laugh as the waitress brought our Cokes. Then we apologized, once again, in unison. Finally JT motioned with a wave of his hand for me to speak, and he took a healthy gulp of his cola.
“I guess we should get to work.” I pulled my notebook from my back pocket and flipped to the last page. I normally wouldn't have needed to skim my notes; I always remember everything I write down. But my gray matter was a little mushy tonight. “The lady at the hospital died from typhoid fever. The bite played no role in her death.” I pointed at him. “Your turn. What did you get?”
“The Baltimore victim's COD, complications from malaria.”
“Seriously, malaria? Is the ME sure?”
JT nodded. “We received the initial report just before you rolled in with the chief. It was caught by RDTârapid diagnostic test. It'll be confirmed with a blood smear later.”
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