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When she called him at the cell phone number that was still, miraculously, the right number, he told her to come over.
His home was in northern Virginia, so it hadn’t taken her long to reach him—no more than forty-five minutes—even though she stopped by Lara’s on the way.
“You’ve graduated, Margaret. Congratulations!” he said as he welcomed her into his home.
“You...knew I was in the academy?”
“Of course. I thought maybe you’d find me. If you hadn’t, I would have sought you out. Do you want to be with the Krewe?” he asked her. “Oh, would you like some iced tea or coffee—or a drink?”
She shook her head. “I need help,” she said.
“Oh?” He seemed surprised. She realized he’d assumed she was coming to inquire about becoming part of the Krewe.
“My friend Lara Mayhew is missing. I saw the press conference about the woman discovered in the river. Adam, Lara fits the description to a T.”
He frowned, obviously not expecting this. “It’s a long shot to think your friend might be this girl. When did she go missing?” he asked.
“She left me a message at around two-thirty this morning, about leaving DC. She said she had to get out of there. And she seemed really distressed.”
Adam was silent for a minute. Meg knew he’d lived through a great deal of stress and heartache through the years. “But...if she said she was leaving, it’s quite possible that she...left.”
“There was something wrong with the message, Adam. She didn’t sound all right. She almost sounded as if...as if she planned to go into hiding.”
“Maybe she did,” he said gently.
“I know, but her message scared me.”
“So you’d say she’s been missing, what, about fifteen hours?”
Meg nodded unhappily. She knew that the length of time Lara had been missing wouldn’t fit the official interpretation of “missing.” It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.
“And you haven’t been able to reach her?”
“No, and I made several other calls, too.” She hesitated, then added, “She was involved in politics. Not that I’m suggesting politicians are evil or anything.”
Adam laughed. “We could take a poll on that one,” he said.
“The whole situation really worries me, Adam. She worked in media relations for Congressman Walker, and I tried calling his office. They seemed to be saying she quit, but I couldn’t get any more out of them. They gave me...the brush-off.”
“I won’t get a brush-off,” he assured her, his voice grim. “Those offices are usually busy, and unless you represent a powerful lobby of some kind... Well, let’s just say that the days when a man could walk into the White House to chat with the president are long gone.” He paused, then offered her an encouraging smile. “Remember, though, your friend may be fine. Try not to stress too much. If she said she was leaving, she might have done just that.”
“Adam, I know that something’s wrong.”
“Ah,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
“I—I need to see her.”
“Of course. You mean you need to see the victim. If she can be identified, it’ll certainly help the investigation. You realize it’s not easy?”
“I went through the academy. I’ve seen all kinds of horrors.”
“Yes,” he said, “but this is the real world you’re entering—not a video of what others have been through or a lecture about what they’ve discovered. This will be up close. And it might well be personal.”
“I’ve been to an autopsy before.”
“However, it may not be your friend at all,” he pointed out.
“But then again, it may be. I can’t reach her, Adam,” she said, even more urgently than before. “I tried repeatedly. I called her aunt. I called other friends. And, as I told you, her office wouldn’t give me any information.”
“So they say she quit?”
“Yes, sometime yesterday or last night, I assume. Actually, they didn’t use the word quit. They used the words no longer here. And they suggested I speak with her if I wanted more information about her future plans.”
Adam was thoughtful for a moment.
“Have you...seen this friend?” he asked her softly.
Seen. As in seeing her ghost or whatever remained of the person who had once been Lara.
“No, but like I said, I’m absolutely certain that something is very wrong. She loved her job. Plus, her message seemed so strange. And there was another call from her phone but no message. I figured at first that she’d redialed by accident.” Meg shrugged hopelessly. “Adam, believe me, I tried all the people and venues I could. I had her landlady check, but Lara didn’t answer the door at her apartment. I checked her place myself on the way here. She didn’t respond. I have her spare key so I went in. She’s not there. Her purse and keys are gone, but she hasn’t packed to go anywhere. I’m aware that she hasn’t been gone very long and yet...her resemblance to the victim is so close.”
“I understand.”
“I just— I need to see the woman they found, Adam.”
“The body is badly decomposed,” he warned her.
“Still... I believe I’d know if it was Lara.”
“I agree that you need to see her,” Adam said.
“I noticed that the Bureau is handling the case.”
“Yes, the Krewe specifically, and yes, I can make the arrangements. Are you ready now?”
She nodded.
“You drove here?” he asked her.
“I did. So we can go to the morgue right away?” Meg asked.
“We’ll stop there first, although we probably don’t have to. I’m sure that if this is your friend, her fingerprints are in the system, since she works on the Hill. I believe the corp—the young woman was not... Well, it may take them time to get prints, but I can find out where the ME is with that.”
He made the calls as she drove. They reached the OCME and a receptionist was waiting to let them in. Adam was familiar with the morgue and led her down a hallway.
They were met by the man she’d seen on television. She was tall, but he seemed to tower over her. She tried to remember the name she’d heard on TV. Agent...Boswell or something like that.
It didn’t matter. Adam introduced them. He was Special Agent Matthew Bosworth. He was polite but restrained during the introduction, and assured Adam that Dr. Wong was already there, prepared to show the body.
Meg was brought into the room where the woman lay. The air was pungent with the combined scent of disinfectant and decomposing flesh. She swallowed fiercely to fight her gag reflexes. She’d seen death before, but never like this.
It was difficult to view the body...
She had to. She began to shake. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Is it your friend?” Agent Bosworth asked her.
2 (#ulink_a7463f53-e106-5af9-a661-db0bf980fd7b)
Matt had long been accustomed to the horrors in this world and yet every time he saw the handiwork of a killer he felt as though his heart and soul had been torn apart. All that made it bearable was the fact that he confronted those monsters. Someone had to, and perhaps because of his own past, he was more determined to confront them than others.
Yet watching Meg Murray as she stared at the dead woman seemed more wrenching than dealing with death himself.
He wondered if she really could make an identification—the corpse was so mottled and distorted with swelling and decomposition.
Even Dr. Wong, who spent far too many hours gazing upon the horrors inflicted on one person by another, seemed moved as he studied the young woman. But Wong didn’t usually get to observe, up close, what seeing the ravaged body of a victim did to those who had cherished that victim in life. Making the whole situation even harder was the fact that Meg was one of them now. And she had a past with Adam Harrison, although Matt knew very little about it.
Wong cleared his throat.
As he did, Matt remembered when it had been his turn to stare down at the dead, dreading the possibility that the remains would belong to someone he loved.
He glanced over at Adam, who was looking back at him.
Matt set a hand on Meg Murray’s shoulder. “Is it your friend Lara?” Meg was straight and tall—and shaking. She had enormous and striking blue eyes. She blinked hard, trying not to betray emotion. Watching her was painful; she was beautiful but seemed fragile, yet she also had the rigid stance and stoic control of a hardened law enforcement officer.
He forced himself to be just as impassive. The seconds ticked by.
He wondered if she’d heard his question.
“No.”
She was shaking even more badly now.
She turned suddenly, almost colliding with him. He was afraid she’d fall and awkwardly tried to comfort her, holding her upright, patting her back.
“No, no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not Lara.”
Her hair smelled sweetly clean. For a moment, when she clung to him, her body racked with emotional spasms, he felt as if they’d been transported from the decay of the morgue to the realm of daylight and life.
“You’re sure?” he asked huskily.
She nodded.
“You realize that the face and body have been badly...compromised,” he began.
“It’s not her. I’d know Lara.”
She took a huge breath and steadied herself, shoulders straightening as she moved back, and shrugged with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just...”
“It’s fine,” he said.
“I was so afraid...” Her voice shook. “I should have better control.”
“We should never have complete control. We wouldn’t be human,” he said.
Matt had never met her before tonight, but he’d heard about her. Unless circumstances brought them a perfect candidate for the Krewe, Adam and Jackson introduced prospective agents they’d heard about to the rest of the group—and then the possibility of an interview was broached. They were a tight clan.
They spoke freely among one another.
But just one another.
They were closemouthed, careful to smile casually when other agents teased them about being the supernatural crowd. If they responded, it was merely to say that they considered all possibilities on a case. He’d first heard about Meg—or Margaret Colleen Murray—in a meeting. Adam had mentioned that a “prospect” was coming through the academy.
If she was on Adam’s radar, there had to be a reason.
“Well, then, there’s hope,” Adam said. “Meg? Don’t you agree?”
She’d been looking at Matt with an expression of relief mixed with horror. She turned to Adam and shook her head. He stepped forward with her, urging her closer to the corpse.
“You’re sure?” he asked, just as Matt had.
Meg seemed frozen for a minute or two, then reached out and gently touched the dead woman’s arm. “Yes...”
“My heart bleeds for this poor girl,” Adam told her quietly, “but as Matt said, at least there’s hope for your friend Lara.”
Matt sent Adam a silent question, gesturing toward the door.
“Shall we go?” Adam suggested. “Dr. Wong, thank you.”
Matt followed Adam and Meg out to the hallway, thanking Wong for coming back in at a moment’s notice that night.
“It’s difficult, huh?” Wong shook his head. “I’m very glad for Agent Murray—but it means other people out there will mourn this woman. I wonder sometimes what I was doing when I decided to become a medical examiner. There’s an old joke about doctors who go that route. As an ME, you can’t make fatal mistakes—because your patients are already dead. But...I like to think that at least we speak for the dead, that we’re a voice. The voice that may lead to justice.”
“Yours is the voice that leads to justice,” Matt declared.
Wong nodded slowly. “There’s something off about this. I can’t quite figure out what it is.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When I have both bodies here, maybe I’ll see it.”
“Keep me posted.”
“You heading this one up?”
Matt glanced at Adam and Meg as they moved down the hall toward the exit. “So it seems. Jackson Crow officially, but definitely our unit.” Jackson Crow spent long hours in the office. He was in charge of supervising the Krewe and overseeing the unit in New York. He coordinated data searches that came to them, organized specialized work as needed and kept his expert eye on every case in motion.
Since Matt had been summoned to the morgue that morning, he assumed he was now responsible for this one.
“I’ll call you immediately with anything I have,” Wong promised him.
Matt thanked him and hurried after the other two.
