Gonzalez made no effort to hide her displeasure. ‘When I get a moment to breathe,’ she said curtly. ‘We’re backed up, in case you haven’t noticed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
The door swung open and Theodore Lancaster stepped into the room.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, and moved to the corner of the room where the disposable scrubs, masks and gloves were kept. ‘Who do we have up first?’
‘The Downes autopsies were done this morning,’ Darby said. ‘But you already knew that, didn’t you?’
Lancaster put on a decent show of appearing shocked. But he couldn’t hide the confidence and self-satisfaction exuding from his pores and posture.
‘This is the first time I’m hearing about it, swear to God.’ He looked at the body being lifted on to the table, an older woman with saggy breasts and thick hips and legs dimpled with cellulite, and Darby heard a ripping sound in her head, like cloth tearing, and in her mind’s eye she pictured a sutured wound, the incision disturbed and bleeding, infected.
He isn’t worth it, Darby thought.
Lancaster turned to her and said, ‘You mean to tell me I drove all the way here for nothing?’
Darby moved to her rolling kit. As she leaned forward to grab the handle, she saw Lancaster’s reflection in the glass cabinet directly in front of her. He stood a couple of feet away, looking at her backside and her legs, comparing what he saw now to the photographs of her stored in his mind. His mouth parted slightly and his eyes lit up with pleasure as his imagination conjured up all sorts of lascivious images.
Then he blinked and pushed them back into hiding. He stepped behind her and put a hand on her shoulder when she straightened. He moved his head closer to hers, and she heard a wet click in his throat.
‘Those hotel shots of you,’ he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and rank with cigarettes and coffee. ‘Body like yours, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t let it go to waste either.’
Lancaster winked at her. When he wet his lips, Darby spun around and raked him with her elbow so hard blood and spittle flew from his mouth and stained the wall and shelves holding the morgue clothing. He staggered against the autopsy table and gripped its edge with both hands to keep from falling. She drove a fist into his kidney, and his back arched like he’d been jolted with electricity, and when he turned she jabbed him with her left and broke his nose, and then she followed it with a right cross that slammed into his left eye and knocked him against the naked corpse lying on the stainless-steel table.
‘Stop,’ Dr Gonzalez shrieked. The male morgue attendant stood frozen, his face white with shock. ‘Stop it right now!’
Darby hit Lancaster again, a solid blow to the kidneys. A girlish scream roared past his lips, and as she cocked back her fist to hit him again the male morgue attendant grabbed her in a bear hug. She didn’t try to break free, and she didn’t fight him when he started dragging her towards the door.
Lancaster gripped the edge of the autopsy table and staggered to his feet. Blood as bright as paint had pooled on the floor. As she was ushered into the hallway, Darby saw Lancaster turn to her, blood roaring from his broken nose, and just before the door shut he smiled, his teeth pink and his eyes burning with pleasure and satisfaction.
39
Jackson Cooper stood with Terry Hoder in the squad room. The front desks and chairs had been moved in order to make room for the TV camera and lighting equipment.
A reporter from the local paper, the Red Hill Evening Item, and a TV cameraman were inside the police chief’s office, waiting for Darby to arrive. After Hoder had explained the plan he and Darby had cooked up to trap the Red Hill Ripper, Coop pulled Hoder into the squad room to talk privately.
‘This is stupid and dangerous and you know it,’ Coop said.
Hoder sat on top of a desk, gripping it with both hands. His face was haggard and his colouring was off. He had spent the last three hours working and fine-tuning the list of questions the reporter would ask Darby. Hoder had also scripted her answers. The reporter had agreed to let Hoder script the video interview and edit the article in exchange for exclusives with Darby, Hoder and Ray Williams after the Red Hill Ripper was in custody.
Before the video was posted on the home page of the newspaper’s website, it would be emailed to Hoder’s point man at the Denver Regional Computer Forensics Laboratory. There, the Nerd Herd, as they called themselves, would insert a hidden program into the video, which would allow them to trace anyone who clicked on it. Both Darby and Hoder believed the Red Hill Ripper was an extreme narcissist who religiously followed – and possibly collected – his own press clippings. The killer, they believed, wouldn’t be able to resist watching the video. In order for the trace to work, the person had to watch the video for at least a couple of minutes.
‘Let Williams do the interview,’ Coop said. ‘He’s head of the task force.’
‘The Red Hill Ripper isn’t interested in or threatened by Ray Williams.’ Then Hoder’s eyes narrowed, like something of interest had come into his vision. ‘Or me, for that matter.’
Coop hated the way the guy seemed to read minds.
‘Right now this creep is looking for a way to get to her. He wants things to be all close and personal, remember?’
‘The interview was her idea,’ Hoder said. ‘I voiced my reservations.’
‘But you didn’t say no, did you? You could’ve put a stop to this, and you didn’t.’
‘I understand your objections. It’s difficult to put someone you’re deeply in love with in harm’s way.’
Coop looked at him sharply. Hoder craned his head and stared at the acoustic ceiling tiles.
Coop moved closer. ‘You voiced your reservations, as you so eloquently put it, so if something happens to Darby you can soothe your conscience by saying, “Hey, everyone, I told her not to do this.” And since she’s not a federal agent, if something happens to her, there won’t be any blowback on you or on the Bureau. Am I getting warm, Terry? No, don’t answer. It’s written all over your face.’
Hoder sighed. He looked and sounded incredibly tired and bored, as if he’d been asked to explain the meaning of life to a kitten.
‘What would you suggest I do?’
‘Put a stop to this,’ Coop said, irritated by the man’s soft drawl and laconic replies.
‘Again, this was her idea. She insisted on doing it and –’
‘And you’re going along with it because, like her, you’ve developed a major hard-on for this nut-job. Only your reasons are about your legacy. You’re set to retire next year, and this little experiment you dreamed up – a rolling forensics unit full of specialists with direct access to our lab – will prove your point to the director if you find the Red Hill Ripper. That’s what this entire thing is about, Terry. Preserving your legacy.’
‘All due respect, you’re out of line.’
‘Cut the bullshit. We both know why you’re scripting this video.’
‘Darby will be well insulated. He won’t get to her.’
‘You’re deliberately lighting a fire under this guy’s ass. Why not let him go on thinking he’s intellectually superior to us while we work the evidence?’
‘Is there some new piece of evidence I don’t know about?’
‘We’re still examining the blood we found. And don’t forget about the plastic fingerprint. We’re waiting on that.’
‘Otto told me the blood samples were destroyed by the bleach.’
‘He’s still got other samples to go through,’ Coop said confidently, even though the truth was that it wasn’t looking good.
‘And then what? Who’s going to do the DNA?’
‘We are. The rolling lab has PCR kits. We can get a DNA sample in two to three hours.’
‘And then we’ll have to mail the kits back to our lab. More waiting. What about that residue Darby found on the sliding glass door? Was it cutting oil?’