Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [28]
At the top of the stairs he pressed on a ceiling panel and moved it aside. The two men disappeared. Moments later I heard Sam’s distinct whistle. Spotting a box of latex gloves on a shelf, I popped it open and removed a pair. After snapping them on, I crept up the stairs. As soon as my head cleared the access space, a fetid odor rolled over me. While downstairs smelled of industrial strength bleach, up here the cloying smell of decaying flesh permeated the small chamber.
I retreated to the storage room, grabbed several surgical masks and put one on. I climbed up once more. Officer Hernandez, now wearing gloves like Sam, found a switch and flicked it. Powerful operating room lights came on, throwing a garish gleam on steel supply carts that held surgical saws and knives. A freezer and a refrigerator hummed in the corner alongside stacks of empty coolers. White plastic gallon jugs lined another wall. Silhouetted like ghostly fingers were white PVC pipes of various lengths sticking out of a large paint bucket.
The officer crossed to the bucket and rubbed his chin. “Why would they need PVC pipes up here?”
I swallowed the lump of horror that lodged in my throat. “They’re for bones.”
Sam and Hernandez swung around. “Christ, Nicole, I told you to stay put.”
I ignored him as I carefully made my way over to the stack of pipes, careful not to touch anything.
“I caught a television show on unusual crimes. There was an episode on an organ broker in Pennsylvania. In that case when there was an open casket viewing, a body snatcher would cut out the arm and leg bones, leaving the hands and feet intact, and then inserted the pipes in place so no one was the wiser.”
“Here.” I handed the officer a mask. “Best put this on.” I gave the remaining one to Sam, who slid it over his face.
“Shit.” Hernandez blanched. “Be right back, sir.” He staggered to the stairs and disappeared.
I would have loved to follow him, but in my years as a prosecutor, I had seen all manner of savagery. Dead was dead, right? These particular victims never knew what hideous atrocities had been committed against them.
I willed myself to look at the instruments crusted with unimaginable body waste. Plastic bags filled one bin and plastic food containers packed another. A stack of empty ice cream tubs sat on the floor. When I raised my head, Sam was studying me with an intent look. “You okay?”
I realized I’d been holding my breath and gestured. “This is a body chop shop, Sam. Bones, body tissue, maybe even eyes were harvested here, but…” Disappointment swirled with revulsion as I considered the little attic of horrors.
“I don’t think this operation was sophisticated enough for vital organ removal.”
Good news, bad news. I hadn’t found the source of Rebecca’s mutilation yet. Without a full autopsy the state would have a hard time proving without a reasonable doubt that Claire Whitman killed her baby. However, forensics-wise, I would have an equally tough time proving her innocence. It wouldn’t be the first time a person was tried and convicted on circumstantial evidence.
On the plus side, the media would be so busy having a hey-day over this ghoulish chamber that it might not pick up the story behind one sad little victim.
I crossed to the stairs. “I’ve seen enough. I’ll wait outside by the car.”
“I’ll take you home.” Sam followed behind me. Downstairs I couldn’t drag the gloves and mask off quickly enough, and dumped them in a garbage bin in the storage room. He stripped his off as well.
I drew in a deep breath but could still smell the death that clung to everything in the place.
“I’m fine. What abominations happened here need your immediate attention. You’ll need to update the search warrant.”
He scowled. “We already have a search warrant.”
Anger boiled inside me, so hot and intense that I knew it had been simmering for a long time. I stabbed my index finger into his chest.
“No, you don’t. You’re not screwing this investigation up by playing