Dead Run

CHAPTER 19

Saturday, November 10

4:30 p.m.

The medical examiner for the keys was an old friend of Rick’s. They had played ball together for the Key West High School Fighting Conchs. Rick had been the second-string quarterback, Daniel Carson a second-string receiver. Their sophomore year, the Conchs had won the state championship. Consequently, they had spent a lot of time on the bench together while the first string strutted their stuff. Later, when their paths had crossed professionally, they’d discovered they got along as well as men as they had as boys.

Rick knew Daniel would be much less discreet than Val. It helped that Val and Daniel had never particularly liked each other-Daniel would be inclined to share the information just for the opportunity to piss Val off.

“Daniel, Rick Wells.”

“Rick.” The other man laughed, his deep voice sandpapery from years of smoking. He had given up the habit the day his father died from lung cancer, but he hadn’t lost the smoker’s gravel. “How the hell are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Rick murmured. “How’re Vicki and the kids?”

“Doing great. Danny’s playing junior-high ball. Made first string, right off.”

The pride in the other man’s voice made Rick ache. Sam would have been nine this year. A fourth-grader. Playing ball. Beginning to think girls weren’t the enemy.

For a split second, Rick couldn’t think, let alone respond. In that moment he missed his child with a ferocity that made him want to weep.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t think, I-”

“It’s okay,” Rick managed to say, finding his voice, fighting his way back from despair. “He a receiver like his old man?”

“You bet. He’s got better hands, though. He’s faster.”

“Smarter, too, I hope,” Rick teased, working to chase away the ghosts of the past.

“Without a doubt. Hold on a second.” Rick heard the sound of someone in the background and Dan’s reply. A moment later, he returned to Rick. “So, buddy, you call to shoot the breeze?”

“No. I need a favor.”

“Thought so.” Daniel’s tone held no condemnation. “Does this favor have anything to do with the Mancuso murder?”

“You do an autopsy yet?”

“Finished an hour or so ago.” He paused a moment. “I’d never seen anything like it before. Gang killings, suicides, overdoses. But this…” His voice thickened. “Made me want to give this job up, open up a nice family practice. Live with a few of my illusions intact.”

“It’s too late for that now,” Rick said grimly. “What did you find?”

“You know that’s confidential information. You’re not on the force anymore, Rick.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why so interested?”

“I’ve got a feeling about this one, Dan. Val’s shut me out.”

“You recognized the killing style.”

“Yes.”

The other man hesitated, then sighed. “You on a land line or a cell?”

“Land.”

“Hold on a moment.” His friend laid down the phone. Rick heard footsteps, then a door shutting. A moment later he was back. He confirmed what Rick had suspected: she had been attacked from behind, the injury to her neck had killed her, she had not been sexually assaulted and the carvings on her body had, indeed, been done postmortem.

Then he said something that took Rick by surprise.

“She was pregnant. No more than three months along.”

“Oh, man.”

“It gets worse, my friend. The killer cut open her womb and took the fetus.”