Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [26]
Blinking back tears, I gave the seat one last pat. Sam stood a few feet away, his hands jammed into his jeans’ front pockets. “Ready to tell me what happened? I’ve got a unit responding to the Depp Funeral Home.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Detective?” One of the deputies standing at the rear of the ice cream truck gestured. “You might want to take a look at this.”
Sam gestured for me to stay where I was, but of course I didn’t. I followed to where more than a few deputies stood with a green cast to their coloring. Standing inside the truck, one held up a bag.
“What the hell?” Sam grabbed the edge of a door and vaulted inside. I pushed through the crowd until I had a clear view. The bag contained two dark red, slimy…
I swallowed. “Sam, those aren’t…”
“Cherry popsicles? No, Red.” His lips curled back in distaste as he motioned for the officer to return the bag to the cooler. “Looks to me what we have here are organs on ice.”
Sam placed his hand on the side of the chest. “Someone see if the truck’s engine can run. These units aren’t chilling and the whole lot is going to spoil.”
A young male deputy clapped his hand over his mouth, spun and rushed off. A gray-haired officer rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” He disappeared around the corner.
Sam straightened. “Someone call the medical examiner’s office and get their tails out here.”
I stood staring at the contents of the chests. “Sam, are those human?”
He gave me a curt nod. “I’m not the ME but they sure look like human remains to me.”
Claire’s baby. A wave of sickness slapped me, almost taking me down as my legs turned to jelly.
Cursing, Sam jumped down and wrapped his arms around me. His strength flowed into me, and gradually the trembling subsided.
“Honey.” He ran a gentling hand up and down my back. “They’re not that baby’s. From the size, we have a shipment of adult organs.”
“Shipment.” I lifted my head and stared into his glittering gaze. “From Hassenfeld’s reaction yesterday, I thought you were pulling his leg. You really believe someone’s harvesting human organs?”
“Yes.”
I gripped his upper arms. “We need to get to the funeral home.”
Chapter Seven
I studied Sam’s grim profile as he drove us away from the detention center. Our argument about going with him had been short but not sweet. My being a material witness to the active crime scene trumped his desire to pack me into a cab home. While we’d walked to his parked car, I’d called both the office and my insurance company.
“I thought you were on Homicide again.” For awhile he’d served with the special crimes unit and on an FBI task force.
He cast me a dark look. “I am. You and your partners manage to keep me pretty busy.”
I bit my lip. The sick running office joke was how high the body count could pile up during one of our cases—and how many Sam ended up with.
“But you didn’t seem surprised at all about what was found in those coolers…almost as if there’s an ongoing investigation.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Budget cuts, work force reduction. Units aren’t as clear cut anymore. I’m a cop, Red. Whatever case the captain needs me to work on, I’ll investigate.”
Tendons flexed in his hand as he tightened it on the steering wheel. “However, as of this morning, I’m officially no longer handling the suspicious death of the Whitman baby. That’s been reassigned.”
I didn’t know if the constant tightrope Sam and I walked in our relationship just slackened or pulled impossibly tight.
“Meaning you’re investigating the theft of the baby’s…” My voice trailed off.
She has a name, Nicole, even in death. You’d never let a jury forget it. Don’t start impersonalizing her now.
Sam shot me another glance as he pulled into the driveway of the Depp Funeral Home. “Yes.”
“Then you’ll be able to keep me apprised of the investigation’s progress.”
“No.”
“May I remind you that I represent the Whitmans?”
The corner of Sam’s mouth lifted. “Hard to forget when you remind me