Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(14)

“The medical examiner listed the preliminary cause of death as accidental.” Hugh dealt photos out onto his desk, the grim reaper’s version of solitaire. Reed considered closing his eyes against the visual onslaught. The quiet years had softened him. Full-color glossies of gory crime scenes used to be part of a day’s work. For Hugh, Reed buried his disgust and scanned the gruesome images.

“Those hikers went missing in October. Remains are in bad shape. We had some unusually warm temps around Thanksgiving. Animals and insects have been at the corpse for six solid weeks.” Hugh pointed a gnarled finger at a close-up of mangled, decomposing flesh. “There wasn’t much to work with. Quite a few pieces were missing.”

Like the guy’s head. Reed’s throat soured.

“Decapitation likely occurred postmortem.” Hugh chose another picture. “But due to scavenger activity, the ME won’t commit to how that happened.”

Reed’s translation: animals and insects had chewed on the stump. Six weeks in an area teeming with wildlife had taken its toll.

The chief fished for and found an X-ray report with an accompanying sketch. “But he did note, just below the decapitation, a suspicious nick on the anterior of the vertebrae.”

Reed let out a deep breath, pulling his eyes off the grisly photo and concentrating on the more clinical X-ray report. The mark on the bone looked like it had been made by a knife rather than teeth. “You think his throat was cut.”

The chief flipped through pictures and selected one. “This was under the body.”

Reed turned the photo for optimal light. A coin of some sort. Looked old. As in ancient, something-you’d-see-in-a-museum old.

“The coin is a bronze Celtic slater, circa 50 BC,” Hugh said.

“No shit?”

“No shit.” Hugh leaned back. “Now if we found an arrowhead under the remains, or if this body turned up in a peat bog in Britain, I could proceed under the assumption that it might be a coincidence. But how the hell did an ancient Celtic coin end up under a corpse in Maine?”

“How hard is it to get one of these?”

“I made some calls. It’s not that hard. If this were a really rare coin, we’d be in luck. Unfortunately, this is the one of the most common types. It’s only worth about thirty bucks.”

“Anything else?” Reed asked.

“Nope.” Hugh tossed another paper on the desk, frustration deepening the lines around his mouth. “The remains are on their way to a forensic anthropologist. I won’t get any definite answers for a while. If this kid was murdered, the killer’s had six weeks to cover his ass. Now that the body’s been discovered, I don’t want to give him more time to destroy every scrap of evidence. The trail’s cold enough already. ”

Reed couldn’t argue with that. Forensic anthropologists were always backed up. So much crime. So little time. “What about the second kid?”

“Officially, John Mallory is still missing, but we both know the chance he’s still alive is razor-thin.”

Authorities had assumed both guys were dead when the initial, full-out search had been called off in mid-November due to a storm that left a foot of snow in its wake. The only reason this body’d been found was a freak warm spell right after Thanksgiving. Otherwise the remains would’ve been buried until the spring thaw.

“Well, what do you think?” Hugh asked.

Unfortunately, Reed’s cop instincts agreed with Hugh’s. “I’d say it’s a strong possibility. But you need the ME to declare the death a homicide to justify an investigation. The town council will not want to deal with a murder if they don’t have to.”

“I know, but I can’t let it go.” Hugh’s mouth went tight. He pulled a starched white handkerchief from his pocket, removed his glasses, and rubbed the lenses harder than necessary. “I just wanted a second opinion before I stuck my head in the noose. I’m getting close to retirement. Let’em fire my ass.” Hugh slid the photos back into the file and closed the manila cover, but Reed knew damned well the case was wide open.

But he wasn’t going to bite.

“I’d really appreciate some unofficial help on this, Reed. No one has to know if that’s the way you want it.” Hugh reached into his desk drawer and slid out a fat legal-size mailing envelope. “Copies.”

Reed crossed an ankle over his knee and contemplated the zigzag pattern in his boot treads. His conscience amplified guilt like a bullhorn. His gut didn’t need corroboration. It was screaming that the chief was right. This teenager had been murdered. It all added up to a no-win situation. If Reed agreed to help, he risked exposure. If he didn’t, a killer could evade justice, maybe even go after someone else—like Scott.

“You know what I went through, Hugh. I can’t afford any publicity.”

“I give you my word. This is just between you and me,” Hugh assured him. “Please. I’ve got some theories, but I don’t have your experience or the extra manpower for this. I can’t ask the state for help until the investigation is officially declared a homicide.”

“What about Doug Lang?”

“My lieutenant is vying for my job. He’s too busy kissing Nathan’s ass to run an investigation. Besides, I’d like to keep this quiet for now. Doug can’t keep his mouth shut.” Hugh reached across the desk and inched the envelope closer to Reed. “Just take the file home and give it a look-through. Any ideas come to you, call me. That’s all I’m asking.”