Bad Bones (Claire Morgan) (3 page)

“Looks to me like he went off somewhere around here, all right,” Bud called out to her over the whirling wind, clapping his gloved hands together for warmth. “Probably bounced around some on the rocks and scrub trees before he tumbled to a stop down there somewhere.”

“Yeah. Our problem is how we’re gonna get down there without killing ourselves. Any bright ideas?”

Bud stamped his feet and clapped his gloved hands together some more and pulled the drawstring on his brown fur-lined hood tighter around his face. “Man, what a god-awful way to die, especially if the fall didn’t kill him. Just to lie down there alone in the dark, all broken up and slowly freeze to death.”

“If it makes you feel better, they say that when you freeze to death, it gets to the point where it’s sorta like just drifting off to sleep.” Claire took out her camera and started clicking photos of the outlook platform on which they stood. It didn’t have any disturbed snow or signs of footprints leading to or from it, except for the ones they had made in their approach. Several feet of snow had completely covered one side, sloping all the way up to the top of the handrail. “Maybe he didn’t go off from up here, Bud. Maybe a killer dumped him down there and wanted it to look like he fell.”

Bud blew into his gloved palms. Stomped some more. He hailed from Georgia, poor guy. Snow was an anathema to him, certainly not his favorite thing. Winter, either. Or hypothermia. Or thermal underwear. Or electric socks. “Or he might’ve just jumped and ended it all. Got all despondent for some reason and decided to make the hurting stop. Could’ve been because of this stupid frigid weather. I think I want to end it all, too, now that we’ve got to stand out here all night.”

“I feel your pain, Bud.”

“Maybe he bought it even before the storm hit. The ranger probably wouldn’t’ve seen him down there right off the bat. He might’ve been down there for days. All winter maybe.”

“Well, there’ve been suicides out here. He wouldn’t be the first.”

“Makes sense to me. Still, he chose a hard way to go. Most guys just blow their brains out when they want to end it all. Faster, easier, manlier. Takes guts to put a gun in your mouth.”

Pulling out her phone, Claire considered Bud’s theory as she punched in Buck’s cell phone number. From her high vantage point, she could see Buck grab his phone out of his pocket. She hoped the call would go through, considering the weather. It did. “Hey, Buck. We’re up top. What’d you got down there?”

Claire watched as Buck bent his head way back and gazed up at them. He gave a wave when he picked out their position on the outlook platform. “It’s a male victim, I think, completely encased in ice. Looks like a damn grape Popsicle. From what I can tell, appears like he’s got some broken bones and abrasions, but we can’t see him all that well yet. The ice is clouded. But I’m pretty sure it’s a man by the size of the body. Can you see where he went off?”

“Could’ve been anywhere along here. No signs of struggle or footprints. The snow’s covering up everything. Maybe we can find something underneath, but it’s gonna take days to shovel all this out.”

“I don’t think we’ll get much down here, either. Looks like he might’ve been here a while. See any clothes or a coat up there? Any suicide note?”

“Nope. Nothing. Unless it’s hidden under the snow. We’ll scrape around and see if we find anything where he could’ve gone off. I’m taking some photos, but there’s not much to see up here. Just smooth pure white snow, untouched.”

“Then he must’ve come out here in his underwear or swim trunks or something. It looks like he’s almost completely nude, but with the body in this condition, it’s hard to tell much yet. We gotta get him back and thawed out under the heat lamps.”

“So you think he’s been down there a while? Maybe nobody noticed him because of the storm fronts coming in and dumping snow on him?”

“The body looks fairly fresh, but like I told you, there’s at least an inch of ice covering his entire body. He’s lying half in the lake and the other half is frozen to the rocks. I’ve got to get him back to the morgue and do the cut before I can tell you anything for certain.”

“Okay, we’re gonna look around up here some more and then head down there along the boardwalk. We might find something along the way. How long are you gonna stay?”

“A long time, it looks like. We’ve got to have a blowtorch to melt him off those rocks and then cut him out of the ice. He’s stuck tight from neck to waist. We’ve been trying to knock him loose with a sledgehammer, but it’s not working so far.”

They hung up, and Claire glanced around. “Well, let’s tape off the edge along here and get the rest of the photos. I am so cold I can’t even feel my toes anymore.”

“Tell me about it.” Bud grumbled some more, mostly under his breath, but he unwound the tape and walked along the edge, hooking it around the handrails.

Claire shot pictures of everything along that area of the drop, most of which ended up as bare white landscapes that showed exactly nothing except undisturbed deep snow. No help that, not for a murder investigation, and that was for damn sure. She also checked out the area inside and behind the Castle for low mounds of snow that might indicate wadded up clothing or weapons or another corpse or any other hidden evidence. They dug off snow anywhere that looked promising but found nothing but more snow. If the guy wasn’t wearing clothes, Claire was pretty sure he’d been murdered. Why would he commit suicide in the nude? Who would do something like that? Especially a man. In her experience and unless the decision had been made on impulse, suicide victims usually went the other way and tried to make themselves look as presentable as possible to whoever discovered their body. On the other hand, a killer would not want to leave anything behind, no evidence, no clue to the victim’s identity. It would be to his advantage to take any clothes that might be identifiable. Or the victim could’ve escaped his assailant and tried to flee, but in his panic had run right off the edge and fallen to his death.

After half an hour of searching, they gave up and attempted unsuccessfully to follow the steep boardwalk down in its meandering switchback trail to the lake without slipping and sliding and plummeting themselves down to the crime scene. It was almost impossible to keep their footing on the steeper inclines and they both fell and slid on their backs multiple times. Claire ended up getting snow down inside her boots and up her pant legs and in her gloves, and so did Bud. So by the time they finally found their way to Buck and Shaggy and Vicky and the other technicians, they were not only cold but wet and miserable, too.

There, they found their good friend, John Becker aka Shaggy, Canton County’s ace criminalist, where he was being supported by a couple of other techs while he used a small blowtorch to melt through the ice holding the corpse against the rocks. The bottom half of the body was still encased in the frozen water just off the bank. Buck had ordered the lights to be focused on the victim, but dusk had fallen fast and hard now, and it was difficult to see as the snow turned to sleet and began to come down harder and in swift, slanted arrows that felt and sounded like BB pellets.

Shivering like crazy, Claire made her way closer to Buck, where he stood supervising the extraction of the body. There was little she could tell about the victim’s face, except that his skin looked purple. As Buck had said, the murky ice distorted his face and made his features unrecognizable. The scene in its entirety looked a lot like textbook photographs she’d seen of wooly mammoths being dug out of Arctic ice. The victim seemed to have frozen to the spot where he had landed in a relatively upright sitting position, head down, chin frozen tightly against his chest. The ice casing followed the contours of his body and made an ice effigy of a human being that created a very surreal and awful tableau of death in those smoky lights and windblown sleet.

“My God, Buck, what’d you think happened to this guy?”

“I’d say murder. There are better ways to commit suicide. But could be that he was on drugs, high on PCP or something like that. Had a bad trip, went crazy, stripped off his clothes and tried to fly off that cliff up there.”

Claire considered that scenario and then shook her head. “Sounds reasonable. Except there aren’t any clothes up there. No car, either. No tire tracks. No footprints. No nothing. And this place is pretty much off the beaten path. I doubt if he would’ve walked out here buck naked in freezing winter weather and then decided to jump to his death. That’s just too farfetched.”

Buck glanced at her. “Yeah, but who knows what a suicidal crazy’s gonna do?”

“True.”

After another ten minutes, Shaggy turned off the blowtorch and helped the others hack out the lower portion of the frozen corpse with a couple of axes, and then load him on a stretcher, still in a sitting position.

“I guess we can’t identify him until he warms up,” Claire said, already knowing the answer.

“Not unless he’s got ID on him, but that doesn’t seem possible, given what he’s not wearing. I’ll take him back to the morgue tonight and put him under the lamps. You and Bud might as well go home, get some rest. Nothing else you can do until we get his name and I can go to work on him. And I hear that a second front’s movin’ in later tonight.”

“That means more idiotic people travelin’ the roads tomorrow,” Bud said. “And some more dents in my SUV. Great. Can’t wait.”

“Well, at least this gives us a reason not to have to direct traffic for a few days,” Claire cried out above the rattle of sleet pellets striking the rocks. “Come on, let’s take another look around topside and then go home. My gut tells me this isn’t suicide or drug-related, but we won’t know anything until tomorrow anyway. I’m about to freeze to death, and I’m not exaggerating.”

So they switched on their flashlights and trudged through more frigid drifts, slipping and sliding all over the damn place. Oh, yeah, she should definitely have listened to Black and taken a leave of absence and stayed in New Orleans for the rest of the winter. Or better yet, they should have flown to Tahiti and some serious sun and fun on some pristine and private golden beach paradise, which had been Black’s second suggestion and quite an enticement that had been, too. Oh, yeah, at the moment, that sounded like the perfect place to be, all right. She was beginning to hate winter, almost as much as Bud did. If that was even possible.

A little over two hours later, Claire found herself knee-deep in the icy white stuff again, this time trekking down the road to her own place, boots squeaking in the deep snow, panting with exertion, more than ready to step into her own warm and snug little A-frame house after a very long and bitterly cold workday. Bud’s Bronco couldn’t make it through the windblown drifts across her road so he let her out at the end near Harve Lester’s house. Harve had been her partner in Los Angeles, and was one of her best friends, but he was not home, having caught a ride with Black out to California on Black’s own personal little Learjet and was probably now having a good old time visiting with their former LAPD cronies. So she didn’t even have a place to stop and warm up. Oh, yeah, the day had been pretty damn crummy thus far. On the other hand, she was almost home, and her dear one, Black, was supposed to be there already, so she increased her footsteps. Yes, indeedy, the idea of him and a very warm hot tub at the end of the road, both just waiting for her to show up so the fun could begin, did register awfully high on her whoopee scale at the moment.

When her cabin finally came into sight, all lit up and warm and welcoming, Black’s Cobalt 360 was indeed tied up at her ice-clogged little dock. He had the top up and buttoned down to protect him from the wind and weather and keep in the heat, and she remembered fondly the previous summer when they had frolicked just off her dock in the hot sun. Winter sucked; Bud was right on. Forging on, she just hoped Black had brought something good to eat, too, because lunch had not happened, not with the dozens of snow-related vehicle accidents that she and Bud had worked all day long. But first things first, she was freezing. Minutes later, she stomped across the front porch, kicked caked snow off her heavy fur-lined boots, and thrust open the front door. Black was standing at the kitchen counter, dressed in a tan thermal shirt under a plaid black-and-tan, fleece-lined flannel shirt that was unbuttoned and rolled to the elbows. He had on jeans, and was drinking a cup of coffee that smelled absolutely wonderful, and looking as hot as hell as usual, with those ice-blue eyes and thick black hair and killer dimples, especially the dimples because he had a big welcoming smile on his face.

“Well, it’s about time you got home. You hungry? I’ve got T-bone steaks. Still nice and warm and juicy. Medium well, just the way you like it. French fries, extra crispy, and Caesar salad on the side. Peach cobbler for dessert.”

Claire slammed the door behind her, unzipped her parka, shrugged out of it, and threw it on the floor. “No time to eat. I gotta get these clothes off.”

Black appeared startled. He put down his cup. “I do believe I’ve had this dream before.”

Claire had to laugh. “Stop, Black. I’m freezing, I kid you not. And that hot tub’s gonna warm me up faster than anything else.”

“I take offense to that,” Black said, but he wasted no time pulling off his shirt. “But we’ll see. I like a challenge.”

By the time Claire sat down on the couch and pulled off her gloves and jerked off one crusted snow boot, Black was already undressed and sitting in the hot tub waiting for her. He said, “Bad day, I take it. You’re usually incapable of turning down French fries for this long.”

“Yep, pretty damn bad. Unless you enjoy standing in sub-zero weather, directing traffic and avoiding cars slipping and sliding all over the ice.”

Claire pulled off her sock hat and unwound her scarf and threw them both aside, hurrying now, ready, willing, and able to get into that nice warm bubbling water with her guy. Her little white poodle, Jules Verne, had other plans. Not to be ignored, he suddenly came barreling down the steps from the loft bedroom and jumped acrobatically onto the couch and then up into her arms. She took a minute from tugging off her clothes and snuggled him close and momentarily suffered his excited face licking.

“That dog always gets to you first,” Black said, watching her push down her snow pants and kick them off. “So it was pretty brutal out there, huh?”

“Yeah, and I’m tired and very ready for some downtime. And black and blue from falling on the ice.”

“Is that sunburn on your face?”

“More like windburn, and maybe a tad of frostbite.”

“Well, hurry it up and get those clothes off. I’ve been waiting for this all day long.”

“Ditto, believe you me.”

Claire quickly unzipped her flannel-lined hooded fleece sweatshirt, her eyes latched on Black. He looked pretty damn good bare chested, eyes flashing blue in the lamplight as he watched her strip off more clothes. At least he did until he frowned and said, “And I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing your engagement ring.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I don’t see it on your finger, Claire.”

“No. But it’s right here on this chain hanging around my neck, right alongside the St. Michael’s medal that you gave me to keep me alive and kicking.” She pulled it out of her thermal underwear top and showed him, and then looped both it and her badge chain off over her head.

“Right. Guess I haven’t seen all that many engagement rings worn quite that way.”

That remark was edged with a very mild degree of sarcasm, so Claire thought it best to ignore it. He stared at her, apparently rather unhappy with her choice of ring display, and not willing to hide his irked feelings. Since she happened to have a perfectly good reason for the chain thing, she decided to share it with him.

“Don’t get your back up, Black. I don’t wanna lose it since it cost you plenty, the market value of this house, probably. That diamond’s so big that I’m afraid it’s gonna get caught on something if I have to pull my weapon real quicklike. I know you wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“So you shoot with your left hand now?”

Claire unzipped her jeans and kicked them off. “Sometimes, I do, if my other hand’s busy punching somebody in the gut.”

“Hope you’re not referring to me.” But Black was not one to hedge when he had something to say, and he didn’t this time, either. “So what’s this all about, Claire? You having second thoughts about getting married? Is that it?”

Claire stopped undressing and gave him her most highly exasperated, and yes, annoyed gander. “Well, no. Come
on
, Black, give me a break here. I’m cold and tired and not in the mood for some silly argument.”

“You were ready enough to commit before that snowstorm hit and grounded the plane on Christmas Eve. Or we would’ve been married that night in Las Vegas. Now it’s the end of January and still no wedding.”

Claire pulled off her insulated undershirt. “Yeah, but the plane
did
get snowed in. Hey, you’re the one who wants a great big, flashy wedding. That takes time to plan, you know.”

“At this point, I just want a wedding, period.”

“And you’re going to get one, trust me. And something else you need to think about, Black. I deal with criminals all day long every day. What if one of the creeps I have to hassle notices this big expensive ring I’m wearing and decides to follow me home, mug me, maybe even kill me, and take the ring so he can retire. Ever think of that?”

He hadn’t, judging by the concerned expression on his face. “I’ll tell you one thing, if anybody ever touches you or that ring, I’ll kill them.”

“Aw, how sweet. Promise? Problem is I’d still be dead.”

“All right, I get it. I see your point. I just like to see that ring on your finger, that’s all. Looks good there. Tells the world how it is.”

“And you will. I do love it, and I do want to marry you, or you would have it back by now. So, we good now? No more talk about that damn ring?”

“Yes. You just said what I wanted to hear. So, hurry it up. Your skin looks a little blue, almost Smurfette-ish, in fact. Good God, how many clothes do you have on?”

Pulling down her thermal underwear bottoms, she kicked them off, too, and hopped her way to the tub, stripping off her heated socks and everything else along the way.

“Enough
not
to keep me warm.” She stopped beside the big hot tub and laid her phone on the edge. She took her engagement ring off the chain and held it up for him to see. “Okay, see this. Watch closely now, I’m putting it on my finger right now, where it belongs. Happy?”

His eyes slid down over her slightly blue and half-frozen body. “Oh, yeah, you bet I’m happy. Now get in here with me and show me how glad you are to see me. It’s been a very long week.”

Down to naked skin now, rather goose-bumpy naked skin, to be sure, and shivering all over, she eased down into the warm and silky water and felt as if she’d submerged herself into a slice of heaven. Black watched, smiling at her long sigh of pleasure. Claire sat there across from him, relaxing and allowing her frigid limbs to slowly thaw out a bit, and vowed never to step foot outside the house again. “So, tell me, Black, how did your day go?”

“I saw a couple of patients, swam some laps, worked out in the weight room, tried to get over my jet lag from the flight back from LA, all the while waiting for you to get home so we could enjoy several hours of slow, inventive lovemaking. So, I guess it was pretty uneventful. It’s looking up now, so come over here and let me say hello.”

“All in good time. So everything’s cool and copacetic at your Los Angeles clinic? You did go to Los Angeles like you said you did, right? Do I need to call out there and verify your story? Sure you weren’t in New York partying it up with your buds at the Ritz-Carlton?”

They’d had a bit of a tiff not so long ago when he had lied about where he’d been, but that was long over. He’d had a good reason at the time and had squared it with her satisfactorily. Still, it had rankled a little and made her wonder where he really was every time he flew off to distant locales.

Black didn’t bite. He usually didn’t when she was baiting him. He was a crack psychiatrist, after all. He probably knew her better than she knew herself. In fact, she was pretty sure he did. “Everything’s fine in California, and when Harve’s cop friends showed up at the airport to pick him up, he was very glad to see them. And right now? I’m glad to be back home with you. So, one more time, why don’t you come over here and let me show you?”

This time Claire decided to do his bidding, having missed him rather a lot, too, and they quickly entered into their usual slippery, sliding, slick and lovely, skin-to-warm-skin, mouth-to-mouth explorations. They did so love their nifty hot tub and therefore used it often and well.

“You feel so damn good,” he muttered into her hair, his hand sliding up her bare back to grip the nape of her neck. “I love kissing you more than just about anything I can think of.”

“Yeah? Well, keep it up. I’m getting halfway warm for the first time all day.”

“My temperature’s been up ever since you took off all that sexy thermal underwear and those battery-operated socks.”

Claire laughed at him again, but the sound died away as he turned her around and pressed his mouth down on her naked shoulder, and in a very warm and eager way, too. Black knew full well where to find her major and most titillate-able erogenous zones, especially that spot on her shoulder that always made her go weak in the knees and in other places, too. Oh, yeah, he used that knowledge often and expertly in order to get her all turned on, and as fast as possible, at that. It was working admirably, yet again. She moaned with the keenest sort of pleasure, could not help it, as his lips moved up the side of her throat and settled over her mouth again. Thus and therefore, they had at it with lots of feeling and a plethora of it’s-been-way-way-too-long carnal enthusiasm. He pulled her onto his lap facing him, and she slid her arms around his neck and entwined her fingers into his hair. His mouth attacked hers with renewed interest, and she responded with equal alacrity, or at least she did until her telephone started ringing.

“Don’t even think about it,” Black murmured against her throat.

“Sorry. Got to,” she muttered, reluctantly disentangling herself, not exactly thrilled about the interruption herself, and yes, just when it was getting good. She left Black muttering under his breath and grabbed her phone off the ledge and looked at Caller ID. “It’s Bud. What the hell? He just dropped me off. Something must be wrong.”

“Damn it,” Black said, seriously not lark-happy anymore. “Tell him we’re busy.”

Claire ignored him. “What’s up, Bud? You okay?”

“Buck just called. We definitely got us a homicide. He says it looks like every bone in that poor guy’s body is broken and in ways that couldn’t be caused by any kind of fall. He said it’s god awful what somebody did to him.”

“Man, that’s just sick. Is the body still frozen solid?”

“Frozen solid? What body?” That was Black, moving up behind her and pulling her back up against his chest.

Claire concentrated on what Bud was saying, but it took some effort as Black took some more than welcome liberties with his hands. Bud was still talking and she tried her best to listen. “It’s still frozen, but Buck can see compound fractures, and he says it looks like there’s gonna be a ton of ’em. He can’t perform the autopsy until tomorrow. He’s gonna call us. Just wanted you to know we’re back on homicide for sure. Charlie already pulled us off traffic for good. Thank God.”

“Okay, great. Thanks for letting me know.”

Black stopped what he was doing and said, “Please tell me that you’re not going out again tonight.”

“I’m not going out again tonight.”

“Did I hear something rather unpleasant about somebody’s body being frozen?”

“Yeah, we found a homicide victim out at Ha Ha Tonka. Frozen to the bottom of the cliffs, half in and half out of the water. Wanna hear the gory details?”

“Later. I’m not finished warming you up yet.”

Claire was feeling pretty damn warm by now, hot even, but she wanted him to touch her as much as he wanted to, which was their usual state of affairs. She turned around and pressed herself up against him. “Okay, now, where were we?”