Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(41)

“If it is,” Duncan said, “he’s a cruel bastard.”



Eve knew Hollywood touched everything in Los Angeles. So it was no surprise to her that the Los Angeles County Coroner-Medical Examiner’s office was the only one in the nation with a gift shop and its own line of souvenirs, from beach towels to toe tags. The store was in the lobby of a stately 1909 Italianate building that was once Los Angeles County General Hospital and was often used as a police precinct in cop shows and movies.

But only administrative work was done in there now. The autopsies and scientific work were conducted in the buildings behind it, structures so generic and unremarkable that their facades would never be reproduced on the souvenir shot glasses.

Eve arrived and parked in front of one of the generic buildings. But she didn’t get out right away. She sat there for a long moment, trying to collect herself, even though she’d already spent two hours parked in traffic. She was afraid of how she might react to seeing a dead baby being cut open and examined.

There was a knock on the window, startling her. She turned to see Nan Baker, the head of the CSU unit, standing outside her driver’s side door.

Nan was an African American woman in her forties who looked like she could wrestle a bear to the ground without breaking a sweat. She was in her usual Tyvek suit and gloves, a camera around her neck, and holding her evidence processing kit.

“Are you coming?” Nan asked. “I don’t have all day.”

Eve opened the door and got out. “Could I ask your professional opinion on something?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Could you take a whiff inside my car and tell me what you smell?”

“You’re joking,” she said.

“Please. Pretend it’s a crime scene. Give me your first impressions.”

Nan opened the back door and sniffed. “French fries, sweat, old socks, formaldehyde, and dog shit.”

“I knew it,” Eve said and kicked the driver’s side door shut. “It’s a relief to know I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not qualified to give you a professional opinion on that.” Nan closed the back door and they headed into the building together.



The baby was on his back on the aluminum exam table and his blanket was in an evidence bag on a nearby cart.

Emilia Lopez, a short woman in scrubs, stood across the table from Eve and Nan. She wore thick glasses behind her protective goggles that made her eyes seem unnaturally large.

“The subject is male, approximately thirty-eight weeks old, and weighs six pounds, two ounces. I began my autopsy by examining the placenta.” Lopez pointed to a bloody organ in a metal tray on another cart. Eve wouldn’t have known what she was looking at if Lopez hadn’t identified it. “I observed that part of a uterus and ovary were still attached.”

Nan stood over the tray and took pictures.

Eve asked, “Is that something that can normally happen during childbirth?”

“It is if the mother has a prolapsed uterus with very thin lining.”

“I have no idea what that means.” The words came out of Eve’s mouth before she had a chance to think about the consequences. But she didn’t regret it. She decided that she’d rather look foolish than make a critical mistake because she was ashamed of her ignorance. Besides, the morgue attendant probably already told Lopez about her dumb question at McCaig’s house. Eve figured she might as well double down on her inexperience.

“The uterus can slip down and protrude from the vagina if the muscles and ligaments that hold it are weakened and stretched,” Lopez said without any apparent condescension or judgment in her voice or expression. Eve was thankful for that. “And that could cause the uterine lining, particularly if it’s thin, to tear during childbirth. There can be considerable blood loss as a result. That was my initial concern, which is why I called you to check on the welfare of the mother.”

Nan lowered her camera for a moment. “Isn’t a prolapsed uterus something that affects older women who’ve given birth before?”

“It can happen at any age,” Lopez said, “regardless of whether or not the woman has given birth.”

“Is there any other explanation for what you found?” Eve asked.

“Yes. The placenta could have adhered to the uterus, a condition which, if previously undetected, could be fatal for the mother and baby during a vaginal delivery,” Lopez said. “In that case, doctors would perform an emergency C-section and perhaps an immediate hysterectomy after the birth. But that’s not the case here, though it is a relevant example.”

“Relevant in what way?”

“When I resumed my autopsy, I noticed this . . .” She pointed at two very tiny cuts on the top of the baby’s head. “Two nicks. The baby supposedly was born naturally, without any medical equipment, so where did these cuts come from? That’s when I halted the autopsy and called both of you.”

Nan leaned over the baby’s head and took more pictures. “Could the cuts have come from being tossed in the dumpster?”

“No, there would be other, more extreme trauma to the body from that. These nicks are straight, like they came from the edge of a sharp object, the sort of damage you might accidentally do to a product while cutting open the box. That observation prompted me to go back and reexamine the uterus and ovaries more closely.”