When Shadows Fall (7 page)

Chapter
14

SAM TOOK HER
time going through the rest of the post. Savage’s body had a tale to tell, and she was listening.

His heart was normal size for a man of his age, with a nominal buildup of cholesterol plaque. The lungs: both upper and lower lobes, when dissected, proved to be clear of any indication of a chemical irritant. Liver, kidneys, stomach, intestinal tract, all were normal. He hadn’t had a recent meal before his death, though she found traces of blood he must have swallowed antemortem, and he was in decent shape.

In the examination of his throat, she found what she was looking for. Timothy Savage’s trachea had clearly been crushed. He’d been strangled, just as the bruising foretold, but by the very strong hands of another, with a towel or something soft to minimize the surface bruising. Sam had seen this sort of neck injury often, in accidental autoerotic deaths, but this was clearly murder—in those cases, the padded ropes or other devices were left in place. And in this case, the killer had been facing his victim.

With that knowledge in mind, she stepped back, looked at the body from a slightly different perspective. There was some slight internal bruising just below Savage’s lower ribs. Someone had put a knee on the man’s chest to hold him down. They’d very purposefully strangled the man, then set about making his death appear to be suicide.

Sam felt both vindicated and frightened. Savage had been correct. He had been murdered. And now she was into his case up to her eyeballs, and there was no going back.

She went through the final steps of the post. His brain was the last piece of the puzzle, and when they got his skull open, even that showed nothing irregular, just the typical undulating coils of gray matter, perhaps slightly looser than they would have been if he were younger.

Two things were bothering her. First, that Savage himself had known he was in mortal danger and had written to her directly instead of going to the police. It made her distrust June Davidson, someone she needed on her side. And two, that the law firm representing Savage’s estate had ordered him cremated without a proper autopsy. Three things, if she counted Benedict’s murder.

As she washed up and watched Regina craft beautiful stitches to close the Y-incision, Sam decided there and then to bring all the blood and tissue samples she’d taken back to D.C. for analysis. She didn’t trust anyone in Lynchburg, not now.

Used to sending samples out for analysis, Regina produced a small cooler that housed everything perfectly. She didn’t raise an eyebrow when Sam said, “I’ll drop these directly at the lab so you don’t have to make a special trip.”

“Should we go ahead with the cremation now?”

“If you have the room, why don’t you hold on to him for another day? I’ll call you tomorrow and release the body.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Owens. Thank you, so much, for allowing me to assist. It was fascinating watching you work.”

“You have a great touch. Remember the trick I showed you about how to cut the lung tissue so you can always identify it if you need to revisit your samples.”

“Triangles for upper, squares for lower. Got it.”

“If you do decide to go to med school for pathology, let me know. I’d be delighted to write a recommendation. I’m teaching at Georgetown now, so if you need a hand, don’t hesitate.”

Regina smiled widely. “Thank you so much. Do you have a card? So I can keep in touch?”

Sam gave her one of her new Georgetown University cards, then excused herself, went back upstairs into the grand foyer and called Fletcher. He answered, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Where are you? I’m finished, and waiting for you on the porch. We need to talk.”

“We had a looky-loo hanging around. Davidson and I chased him. Guy got away, he’s fast as a greyhound, but I got a good look at him. Five-eight, Caucasian, blondish hair, red-and-white baseball cap. Lock the doors and I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Sam didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t in the mood to take chances. She went inside, threw the bolt and realized how ridiculous her actions were. The place was huge, with multiple entrances. She rang the bell, and after a few moments, Regina appeared.

“Dr. Owens, you’re still here. Is everything okay?”

“Is this the only entrance?”

“No, there are the back doors to the veranda and the garages downstairs, of course, where we do intake. Why?”

“Detective Fletcher and Detective Davidson are chasing a suspect. They want us safely inside with all the doors locked.”

Regina responded immediately. “Follow me. The veranda doors are kept bolted, but the garage door is always open during business hours.”

They hustled down the stairs. Sam’s hand was beginning to go numb from carrying the weight of the cooler. She wasn’t about to let it go, though. They passed the autopsy suite and the embalming room, and entered a long hallway that led to darkness. Sam followed Regina closely lest she get lost in the labyrinth. After a minute, they stepped into a cavernous space Sam recognized from her own facility in Nashville. There were two industrial garage doors side by side, and a decent-sized body cooler.

As they entered the room, the lights went on with a hum. Sam relaxed a bit. The overheads were on motion sensors. No one was in here.

Regina slapped the button and the large doors began to drop. There was an entrance door between the two; she hurried over to it and threw the dead bolt.

“There,” she said with a grim smile. “We’re all secure.”

Sam patted her on the back. “You seem like you’ve done this before.”

“Oh, we have to run drills all the time. And up in Richmond, well, they don’t mess around. We’re expected to know the emergency precautions for any situation. Now, since you’re stuck here for a bit, would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Or something stronger?”

“Tea would be fabulous.”

They started back toward the stairs, down the long, dark hallway. As they turned the corner, Sam saw the door to the autopsy suite was open. Regina noticed it at the same time, and flattened back against the wall, an arm held out in front of Sam in protection. They stared at each other, both listening. Sam could have sworn she heard a noise coming from the autopsy suite.

She pointed to the suite and Regina shook her head, admonishing her to stay put. But Sam knew they had to check, see what was happening. She edged forward, slowly, one step at a time. There, she heard the noise again. It was quiet, barely audible keening. Grief. A breathy little sob.

What in the world?

She stepped firmer now, and miscalculated a corner. The cooler clanged against the wall, and there was a flash of movement. Someone burst from the room, ran into them both. Sam was shoved against the wall and knocked down, Regina collapsed beside her. Footsteps rang out as the person rushed away. Sam recovered quickly, ran down the hall after him. She turned the corner into the garage just in time to see a red-and-white baseball cap disappear out the door.

Chapter
15

SAM RAN TO
the door and carefully ducked her head outside, but all she saw was an expanse of green lawn and a curving asphalt drive. Whoever had just been in the autopsy suite was gone.

Fast as a greyhound was an understatement.

She used a tissue from her pocket to relock the door, careful not to wipe away any possible fingerprints, then hurried back to Regina, who was collecting herself up off the floor. Her eyes weren’t totally focused on Sam.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I hit my head. Sorry. Did he get away?”

“He’s gone. Let me see.” Sam expertly ran her hands through Regina’s hair, feeling for the lump. She found it in the front, near her temple. She gave the girl a quick neurological exam, but she was focusing better.

“You’re going to have a headache, and you’ve got a little concussion. You might even sport a black eye tomorrow. Keep a close watch on yourself for the rest of the day. If your headache gets worse, go to the hospital immediately, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just went down awkwardly. Hit my head on the edge of the cooler, of all things.”

“We’d best check the body. Whoever that was wanted something from Savage.”

They got Regina back to standing and entered the autopsy suite. The body was undisturbed.

Sam looked around the room but saw nothing out of place. “Regina, before he ran out of here, did you hear crying?”

“I thought I did. That is so weird. I’ve seen some odd things, but we’ve never had a break-in like this. Nothing taken, nothing disturbed. No harm, no foul. Oh, shoot. I better go check on Roy. He was supposed to be working on Mrs. Edmunds this afternoon.”

Sam collected the cooler, which had been knocked over when Regina fell on it, and checked inside. Everything was still in its place. Regina led them down the opposite hallway to the embalming room.

Roy was inside, earbuds in, studiously brushing a dead woman’s long silver hair. He didn’t hear them come in. Regina smiled, then signaled to Sam to back away.

Once in the hallway, she said, “If he’d been disturbed, he wouldn’t be so calm. He’s a nervous sort, my brother. Scared of his own shadow. But so good at his job. You need someone caring at this stage, and he’s a love. Come on. Let’s get back upstairs.” The girl’s natural exuberance showed itself. “I’m sure you want to call your cop friend, let him know we had a visitor.”

Sam called Fletch’s phone, but he didn’t answer. Moments later, they heard the doorbell ring.

“Ah, there they are,” Sam said.

They went to the foyer and Regina unlocked the front door. The men came in, both breathing heavily and sweating.

Regina took Davidson to the autopsy suite to show him what happened, leaving Sam and Fletcher alone. She handed him a bottle of water from her bag. He gulped greedily while she explained what had transpired, and Fletcher’s brows drew closer together.

“What happened earlier?” Sam asked.

“June caught a flash of the baseball cap, called out for him to stop, but he took off at a sprint. We got after him, but he ducked into the woods and disappeared. Poof, gone. He must have circled back and come in through the garage doors. Nothing’s missing?”

Sam shook her head. “Not that we can see. Fletch, he was standing over the body, and it sounded like he was crying. Do you think this could be the son, Henry Matcliff? The glimpse I had, he looked young.”

“Maybe. Xander checked in—he’s going into the woods to see if he can spot the man for us. Keep that under your hat for now.” His voice dropped, and she had to lean forward to hear him. “I don’t trust Davidson, not yet. I don’t think he’s told us everything about Savage. Something odd’s going on here.”

“No kidding.”

Before they could analyze things further, Davidson returned with Regina.

“We better get over to the law firm. I’ll send an officer out here to keep an eye on things until we get Savage’s wishes cleared up. Regina will keep watch, won’t you, honey?”

Regina rolled her eyes at the endearment, clearly offended, but nodded. She pointedly ignored Davidson, but shook Sam’s hand, and Fletcher’s. “Thanks for everything, Dr. Owens. I’ll see you around. You need anything, just call.”

She waited for them to leave, and Sam clearly heard the bolt thrown on the front door. Good. At least someone wasn’t going to take any chances.

* * *

The law offices of Benedict, Picker, Green and Thompson were on Rivermont Avenue, only a ten-minute drive from Hoyle’s. They were in a redbrick two-story Victorian dollhouse, complete with white trim and turrets, which, they soon found out, housed the firm’s library of law books.

They were met in the reception area by an older gentleman with white hair and a rotund stomach. He wore a gray summer-weight wool suit, his tie a florid green slash across his belly.

“Good, you’re here at last.” He turned to Sam and Fletcher. “I’m McKendry Picker. You can call me Mac. We’re all just sick about Rolph. What more can you tell us about his death? I need to let his wife know the details, and his kids, they’re flying in from around the country to be with their mother, and this is all just so heartbreaking. We knew he wasn’t going to last long with the disease and all, but to die like this, murdered, so far away from home, it’s just—” He burst into tears.

Sam’s first instinct was to comfort him, but Fletcher cleared his throat and imperceptibly shook his head at her, so she stood her ground.

Davidson was the one who laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Mac, shh, it’s okay, man. I know how hard this is for everyone. Where are Tony and Stacey?”

Picker got himself together, sniffling and wiping his eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “They’re in Las Vegas. A deposition for a client. They’ll fly back as soon as they’re finished, should be in this evening.” He turned to Sam and Fletcher and cleared his throat, the tears still sparkling on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry to lose control like that. Saying it aloud made it so real. Rolph and I have been friends for forty years. I’m going to miss him dreadfully.”

Fletch bowed his head and said softly, “We understand, sir. Is there someplace we can sit and chat for a bit?”

“Of course. We have pastries and coffee waiting in the conference room. Follow me, please.”

Sam noticed the man’s stride was slightly off, as if he were wearing a knee brace, or had twisted his ankle. When they got into the conference room, which was gorgeous—dark wood and gleaming floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking an extravagant all-white flower garden—Sam asked him about it as they settled around the table.

“Korea, I’m afraid. Lost the leg. I was shipped over toward the end, when I was only seventeen, though Uncle Sam didn’t know that. I was green as a sapling, and stepped on a mine the first day I was there. Blew it right off. I was lucky, they saved my knee, and prosthetics have come so far since I first began wearing them. And I’m blessed with excellent insurance.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said. “You seem to manage beautifully.”

“Years of practice. And don’t be sorry. Government paid for everything, from my leg through to my schooling. I wouldn’t have gotten into law without the push. Everything happens for a reason, Dr. Owens. Even losing a leg in a stupid accident, or the untimely death of a friend. Now please, tell me what’s happening. Why was my best friend murdered?”