Home > Books > The Butcher and the Wren(37)

The Butcher and the Wren(37)

Author:Alaina Urquhart

“I imagine it’s bleak in there,” he says with a sigh.

Wren shakes her head, turning it slightly to peek over her shoulder at him. “This is really vicious work, Leroux. The worst yet.”

“Fuck. I feel like we are so close to nailing this bastard.”

Wren looks back at the assaulted corpse in front of her and shifts her gaze to the woman’s right hand, splayed outward to her side as if perpetually reaching for something just out of her grasp. The hand is curled around something, and Wren carefully begins peeling back each finger, forcing the stiffness to give way beneath her gloved hands. Her efforts unveil the unmistakable lines and symbols of a map. Wren spies marked plots and a key that labels the famous residents of notable tombs. This map is for St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

“Someone got a bag out there?” Wren calls behind her and unfolds the map completely.

It’s the kind of map they hand out to tourists once they show up for their guided tour of St Louis Cemetery No. 1, eager to gawk at and dissect the sights in front of them. This one is detailed to a point, even including the trees that separate the paths and alleyways that line the City of the Dead. Wren traces the pathways with her eyes, searching for something that doesn’t belong, a sign to explain why this map found itself in the iron grip of a dead woman. In the cluster of gravesites toward the middle of the map, she spots a small crimson X, involuntarily gasping slightly at the discovery.

“What is it?” Leroux questions.

“There’s a guide map of St. Louis Cemetery 1 down here with a spot marked off in red. I don’t think this victim is the only present he left for us to find today.”

“Shit. All right, come on out. Let’s get her out of here and head over there. We have to contain this. Now.”

Wren nods and bags the map, sealing it shut before taking one last look at the battered body before her. In her final, solemn gaze she notices something she hadn’t before. On the victim’s right wrist is a white smartwatch, a standout because of its pristine condition. It is brand-new and bears none of the wear of the rest of the victim’s effects. There is no way that this watch was on that wrist before or at the time of death.

“Muller. Let’s go!” Leroux trills impatiently. His eyes betray the thoughts racing around his head. She can see that he is already calculating their next moves. A true veteran of this world.

Wren sees the haze of doubt and frustration hanging over Leroux but doesn’t let it impede her diligent tending to the crime scene in front of her.

“Yeah, John, I hear you. Just one second.”

She reaches out a gloved hand to examine the watch and gently taps the screen to life. A cast of blue light floods the dark, cramped space. It asks for a numerical passcode.

“Hand me the map, Muller,” Leroux barks. “Let’s move!”

She ignores him and looks desperately around the space that felt so suffocating a moment ago, but now looks hollow and deep. She uses a hand to cast the flashlight’s beam at the area around the body, hoping for more information, but sees only dirt, dust, and insects. She forces out a frustrated sigh and drops her eyes.

“Just thought I saw something,” she squeaks.

She grips the evidence bag with the map securely inside and maneuvers her body toward the exit. Wren’s eyes meet Leroux’s, and she stretches her arm out to hand him the bag. She glances at the tiny crimson X for a beat longer.

“Read me the plot number where the red X is.”

Leroux raises an eyebrow and is clearly exasperated.

“What?” he complains, but looks down at the map, smoothing the evidence bag out to see the numbers better. “The print is unbelievably tiny. One five oh … three. What is this all about?”

“One five oh three … one five oh three … one five oh three,” Wren repeats to herself softly as she scoots her body back toward the dead woman’s. With a gloved hand, she taps the watch, and it blinks back to life. She swipes, and it asks again for the four-digit passcode. Wren types the numbers, hesitating before hitting the final digit. Her breath hitches as she gives it a quick tap. The watch opens to reveal one application on the screen: the alarm.

 37/77   Home Previous 35 36 37 38 39 40 Next End