Breaking Creed

51

Stan was waiting for O’Dell. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation. The body was ready on a table. The medical examiner bent over and prepared his instruments.

“I have no idea what Assistant Director Kunze thinks you’ll be able to witness or report back to him that wouldn’t already be in my notes.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I would have much rather stayed in bed this morning.”

He glanced up just as she was taking off her jacket to gown up, and then he did a double take when he saw the welts on her arms.

“What in the world happened to you?”

“Scorpions.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she said, and joined him on the other side of the table, trying to ignore his staring. He was waiting for an explanation. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were in a hurry?”

“Something tells me your scorpion story is related.” He put down a scalpel and crossed his arms. For the first time since she’d met the man, he looked genuinely concerned about her.

“Actually, it’s your fault.”

“Mine?”

“I went searching for the original crime scene and fire ants.”

She gave him a quick rundown on how she found scorpions instead. She caught him wincing twice.

“DEA.” He said it like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “They must have known when we pulled Bagley out of the river.”

“Do you know who received the call about the first package?” O’Dell asked as she let her eyes examine the bloated victim. This guy hadn’t been in the water as long. “You mentioned it that morning. Did it come into your office?”

He shook his head as he picked up the scalpel and a hemostat. Gently he began to tug at a corner of the duct tape on the victim’s mouth.

“We were simply told. I believe the call that came in to us was from someone at Justice.”

“In the Department of Justice? Not someone at the FBI? Or maybe the DEA?”

“I can check. I’m sure we track such things.”

“That’s why you were surprised to see me there?”

“I guess neither of us should be surprised at too much anymore.”

Stan had worked off most of the tape now but stopped when he saw what looked to O’Dell like a thin black thread overlapping the lower lip. At first, she thought it might be a suture. Then it moved.

“Holy crap!” Stan jerked back.

O’Dell stared and watched, mesmerized, but she didn’t dare get any closer. The object poking out of the corpse’s mouth was made up of small segments and moved almost in robotic twitches back and forth.

“Seems I spoke too soon,” Stan said as he looked around his workspace. He grabbed a large Ziploc bag and shoved it at O’Dell.

“It’s not a spider leg.”

“No,” Stan agreed. “I’m guessing antenna. The bastard’s sticking it out to get a sense of his new surroundings.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“The one primitive species that has survived for millions of years and can survive anywhere on earth and probably in hell. Yes, I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing.”

He twisted around to his tray and plucked up tweezers and a bigger hemostat while O’Dell pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She had left the gloves in her pockets since she hadn’t intended to touch anything. Stan was a stickler for no interference. That he was suggesting she assist him was a breakthrough she could actually do without. Still, she took the plastic bag and followed his instructions.

“He’ll either retreat when he sees the lights or he’ll race out,” Stan told her as he donned headgear that provided magnification and a stream of LED light. Then he bent over the victim, fingers ready.

“What makes you think there’s only one?”

He looked up at her over the contraption as he flipped the light switch and shot the beam of light in her eyes, making her blink.

“Just be ready to play catch,” he told her. “I don’t want a bunch of cockroaches running around my autopsy suite.”