Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [574]
“And you’re thinking you’ve got just the forensic anthropologist he could send it to.” There was another knowing smile, and Maggie tried to suppress a blush.
“That’s not exactly what I was thinking.” She knew Gwen was referring to Adam Bonzado, a professor in West Haven, Connecticut, with whom Maggie had worked the previous year. A professor of forensic anthropology who had made it quite clear he was interested in more than Maggie’s bones.
“Seriously, though,” Gwen continued, letting her off without what Maggie had come to expect was Gwen’s regular lecture about her nonexistent love life. “What are the chances of using an outside expert like Professor Bonzado? Would Stan be offended?”
“Actually, I would hope he’d welcome it,” she said, slicing off a bite of mushroom. “I’ve already mentioned the idea to Racine that the other two victims should be handed off to an expert. It’s up to her to bring it up with Stan. As soon as I got to the site today, he reminded me that technically this wasn’t even his case.” Maggie gulped the remainder of her Diet Pepsi and started looking for Marco.
“What did he mean, it wasn’t his case?”
“Traditionally when a body’s been dismembered, or in this case decapitated, whoever has the heart has jurisdiction.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gwen said with enough force to make Maggie stop searching for a waiter and get her attention. Evidently she realized her mistake. Gwen sat back and in a much calmer, more controlled voice she said, “It’s silly, isn’t it? I don’t remember such an archaic rule. I mean, what if the rest of the body is never found?”
“First, Racine needs to check the computer again and see if any torsos have shown up. The killer could be traveling to dump them somewhere else.” Maggie watched her friend out of the corner of her eye as she opened the menu and pretended to be interested. What was it that seemed to have Gwen on edge? In the dim gaslight of the restaurant Maggie tried to study Gwen, only now noticing that her strawberry-blond hair was tousled, her usually manicured fingernails looked neglected, and there were dark lines under her eyes.
“That would mean he has a job that includes travel or it allows some flexibility in his schedule.” Gwen’s tone was back to normal, but Maggie noticed her fingers nervously curling the tips of her cocktail napkin.
“Quite possibly. But whatever the killer’s doing with the torsos, Stan won’t be able to just shrug off his responsibility. Right now jurisdiction is the last thing we need to worry about.”
Gwen sipped her wine, and this time Maggie thought she could see a slight tremor in her hand. She wondered if Gwen was simply tired, perhaps stressed about a particular patient. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Maggie was looking for something that wasn’t there. She’d ask anyway. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.”
Gwen’s answer came too quickly, and she must have noticed the concern on Maggie’s face.
“I’m fine,” Gwen said, sounding a bit defensive, but then catching herself and adding, “Just a bit tired.”
She smiled at Maggie as she pretended to be interested in her menu, closing the subject as she strategically hid her eyes. Maggie couldn’t help wondering if Gwen was afraid she might reveal something more than exhaustion.
She followed Gwen’s lead and reopened her own menu, but kept it slanted so she could watch her friend. What in the world was it that was Gwen wasn’t telling her?
CHAPTER 6
Eppley Airport
Omaha, Nebraska
Detective Tommy Pakula hated messes. He didn’t really mind the blood. After almost twenty years as a cop there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. He could handle splattered brain matter or sawed-off body parts. None of that bothered him. What he absolutely hated was a contaminated crime scene.
He ran his hand over his shaved head, the bristles becoming a bit pronounced at the end of what had already been a long day. He had been home only long enough to change his shirt and socks, the latter at his wife, Clare’s, insistence. They’d been married for as long as he’d been a cop, and his stinky feet still bothered her.