Apprentice in Death (In Death #43)(19)

That didn’t stop the ad blimps blasting about cruise wear, white sales, inventory clearances, but it did cause the already lumbering maxibuses to slow to a crawl. And since even the thought of winter precipitation caused the majority of drivers to lose any shred of competency they might own, she spent most of her trip avoiding, leapfrogging over, and cursing every cab and commuter.

The long white tunnel leading to the dead came as a relief, even when she passed an open door and heard someone’s cackling laugh.

To her mind no one should cackle in the dead house. The occasional chuckle, fine. But cackling was just creepy.

She pushed through the doors to the autopsy room, into the cool air and the quiet strains of classical music.

The three victims lay on slabs, almost side by side.

Morris had a protective cloak over his steel-gray suit. He wore a royal blue shirt that picked up the needle-thin lines in the suit jacket and had twined cord of the same color through the complex braid of his dark hair.

Microgoggles magnified his eyes as he glanced up from the body of Ellissa Wyman.

“A cold, dreary morning to start our day.”

“It’s probably going to get worse.”

“It too often does. But for our guests, the worst is over. She made me think of Mozart.” He ordered the music down to a murmur as he lifted the goggles. “So young.”

He’d already opened her, and gestured with a sealed hand smeared with blood toward his screen.

“She was healthy, had exceptional muscle tone. I see no signs of illegals or alcohol abuse. She had a hot chocolate—soy milk, chocolate substitute—and a soft pretzel about an hour before death.”

“A snack before she hit the ice. They have carts selling that kind of thing right outside the park. She’d been skating just under twenty-five minutes before she took the hit.”

“Laser strike, mid-back, almost severing the spine between the T6 and T7—thoracic vertebrae.”

“Yeah, I got that. Severing?”

“Very nearly, so this was a high-powered strike. Had she survived it, she would have been a paraplegic without a long, expensive—and brilliant—treatment. But with the intensity of the strike, she would have been gone in seconds.”

“The classic ‘never knew what hit her.’”

“Exactly so, and a blessing as, though I’ve only begun on her internal organs, I see considerable damage.”

She might not have been big on internal organs, but Eve had passed squeamish in autopsy long ago. So she accepted the goggles Morris offered, took a closer look.

“Am I looking at massive internal bleeding?”

“You are. With a burst spleen—as was her liver.” He gestured to his scale, where that particular organ sat.

“Are internal injuries like this usual with a laser hit?”

“I’ve seen it before. But it’s more common in combat injuries, where the enemy is intent on destroying as many opponents as quickly as possible.”

“The beam pulses—like vibrates—once it hits the target, right?” Straightening, Eve took off the goggles. “I’ve heard of this. It’s outlawed in police weaponry, in collections.”

“I believe so, yes. This would be Berenski’s area.”

“Yeah, I heard that. He’s my next stop.”

After setting the goggles aside, Eve studied Wyman’s body, turned to the two waiting for Morris.

“So somebody got their hands on a military weapon, or adapted another to military level. And somebody wanted to make sure these three people went all the way down.”

“It’s difficult to see why anyone would want to end this young woman’s life. Of course, she may have been a stone bitch with a wait list of enemies.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Solid family, still lived at home, doing the work/college thing, with the ice-skating a big passion.”

As she spoke, Eve circled the body—a young, slender girl who’d never known what hit her. “She was still friendly with her ex-boyfriend. I took a look through her room yesterday when I notified the parents. On the girlie side, but not crazy with it. No hidden stashes, no weird shit on her electronics—though EDD will take a harder look there.”

“A normal sort of not-quite-adult who hadn’t yet determined what to do with her life, and assumed she had all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“That’s how I see it,” Eve agreed, “right now anyway. Her family’s going to contact you about seeing her.”

“I spoke with them last evening. They’ll be in mid-morning. I’ll take care of them.”

“I know you will.”

Turning away from Wyman, Eve studied the other victims. “If there was a specific target, I think it was the second victim.”

“Michaelson.”

“Yeah. But that’s just theory, just gut. I’ve got nothing to hang it on.”

“As your gut’s generally reliable, and in much better shape than Michaelson’s, I’ll keep that in mind when I examine him.”

“He knew what hit him. According to the wits who tried to help him, he was conscious, alive, at least for a minute or two.”

“An agonizing minute or two,” Morris added, nodding. “That would be part of the reason for your gut on him.”