Possession - J.M. Dillard [67]
It was far, far worse than he had imagined. As he stood beside half a display console—literally torn in two, the metal edges jagged, twisted—Picard gazed down at the battered corpse pinned beneath it.
Barbara Evans lay on her back, stiffening arms and legs flung out like a rag doll; her battered, mottled face gazed slack-jawed and unseeing at the ceiling. Judging from the fading yellow-green bruise and the black rivulets of dried blood on her upper lip and chin, her nose had been broken—smashed—some time ago and never tended. More recently, someone had beaten her to death with the torn console—so savagely that its sharp metal edge had nearly cleaved her body in two and still bit deep into her abdomen. A darkening butterfly of blood at her waist stained the carpet beneath her—so much blood that Picard could smell it. He turned away in revulsion.
“Who could’ve done this?” he murmured, though he knew the answer even before Will Riker offered grimly:
“A madman.”
Behind the first officer, the carefully planned display booths lay in ruins—shattered, torn, and strewn with abandon over Ten Forward’s entire surface.
Picard scowled at the reply and turned toward Worf, who along with other security personnel had been busily scanning the area with tricorders. “Lieutenant …”
The Klingon turned off his tricorder and stepped over to Picard. “We have scanned the area for hair and skin cells,” Worf reported dutifully, “in an attempt to determine the identity of the perpetrators. The computer is sorting through it, but the evidence is surprisingly small.”
“As though they were calculating enough to protect themselves from detection,” Riker grumbled.
“So far,” the Klingon continued, “the computer has matched every cell, every drop of blood, every fiber of hair to Ensign Evans. I know there must be more evidence here, yet everything I scan comes up the same.”
“There’ll be evidence on her,” Riker noted grimly, nodding toward the body. “Dr. Crusher will find it during the autopsy.”
“Can this be related to the attack on Dr. Dannelke?” Picard wondered.
“It must be,” Worf speculated. “Ky—Dr. Dannelke’s report specified the ferocity of his attack, his expertise in fighting.” The Klingon paused, then said quietly, “It is clear this woman was beaten savagely.”
“And could all this be the work of one person?” Picard gestured at the destruction surrounding them.
Worf considered it a moment. “It is possible.”
Riker nodded, following their gazes around the devastated room. “A Klingon would have the strength, the energy to do this.”
“Or a Vulcan,” Picard said thoughtfully, provoking Riker’s sharp glance.
“Do you think Skel did this, sir?”
The captain sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine any Vulcan committing such a brutal act, and I would think even a Vulcan could not have avoided shedding some blood in this melee. And Vulcan blood is easy enough to detect. But I will question him as to his whereabouts at the time of Ensign Evans’s death.” He paused. “Lieutenant Worf, have someone in security run a complete background check on every assistant or technician that came aboard with the scientists. I want you to know everything about them—everything. If there are any suspicious gaps in their information, we may have to detain them. If nothing shows up that indicates a suspect, then review the scientists’ background as well.”
“And if nothing shows up there?” Worf asked.
“Then begin reviewing Enterprise personnel,” Picard said without hesitating. “Begin with any new crewmen and work your way through the entire staff if you must. Keep me closely informed.”
Worf nodded and glanced over at the far wall, where Ensign Alvarado stood, hugging herself. “I believe I have just the person for the job, sir.”
As Worf approached the young woman, Picard moved away from the corpse, and Riker went with him.
“Will,” Picard said quietly as the two of them walked slowly into the corridor, “have you talked to Deanna lately?”
Riker shook his head. “Whatever Beverly gave