The officer from earlier shoots her an indignant look before walking toward the trees. Wren follows, motioning for the techs to hang back with the body. As they approach the area illuminated by the flashlight, a couple of out-of-place objects come into focus. There nestled under a bush is a filthy yellow T-shirt folded neatly, with a pair of black flip-flops on top. A photo is taken before an officer picks each item up and drops it into an evidence bag. As the shirt unfolds, something drops to the ground with a small thump.
“Is that a book?” Wren questions as she squats down and clicks on her own small flashlight.
In front of her is a small paperback titled The Ghouls. Closer inspection reveals it to be an anthology of horror tales. Someone behind snaps another photo, and Wren lifts the book as she stands up. She turns it over in her hands and holds it out to the officers in front of her.
“Ever heard of this title?”
They all shake their heads. One of them holds out a gloved hand to take it.
“Do you think it’s Doe’s?” he wonders, opening the pages absentmindedly.
“Guess we will find out,” Wren retorts, watching him place it into a bag with the clothing for processing.
She turns on her heel, sinking into the moist ground beneath her. It’s with an audible squelch that she frees her foot enough to make her way back to the stretcher. She helps them get Jane Doe into the bag and onto the gurney, taking note of the color of the lividity again before removing her gloves. In different light, it appears an even brighter shade of pink. She walks back to the coroner van carefully with the body and the two techs trailing behind. Opening the back of the truck, she waits for the crew to struggle their way through the uneven terrain and quietly dreads the idea of another unidentified body in her morgue.
“Who is missing you tonight?” she asks quietly as Jane Doe passes in front of her.
A police officer nearby chuckles.
“A stiff ever answer you back?” he teases.
Wren looks him in the eyes before slamming the door shut and walking to the driver’s-side door.
“You’d be surprised how many secrets the dead have told me.”
CHAPTER 3
MORNINGS ARE NICE. JEREMY CRAVES a strong cup of coffee, and he always makes sure to eat breakfast. The remainder of the day is often scattered and unpredictable, with his lunch breaks spent doing research, so he cannot always make time for full meals. He glances up at the small television on the kitchen counter. The news is in its second week of covering the story of two escaped convicts from Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora, New York. Even in Louisiana, people are captivated by the tale of a lovestruck prison worker helping two convicted murderers escape like a real-life Shawshank Redemption.
While watching, he scrambles some eggs and eats them with turkey sausage. He has considered becoming vegetarian for the health benefits but fails to rationalize it properly. He does hold animals at a higher level of respect than he does most members of his own species, but mostly due to their ability to survive as soon as they enter the world. Empathy doesn’t enter the equation, which is why he doesn’t feel the need to deprive himself of an easy source of protein. After cleaning his plate, he makes his way downstairs to check on his guests.
Katie is noticeably quiet.
“She must value those mouse teeth,” he muses to himself.
Her left hand is caked in blood that has dripped and dried around the leg of her chair and the floor below. She’s slumped into a self-soothing position, which makes him feel an intense desire to disrupt her. Unfortunately, he is running late and doesn’t have time for extraneous pleasure this morning. Instead, he gives her a wink. Upon seeing him, Matt begins to throw a testosterone-fueled tantrum, spitting and cursing at him while trying to tear his arms free of the chains that bind him. He can see that Matt spent his night trying to dislodge the chair from the basement floor, but all he’s managed to do is splinter some of its leg. These chairs were cemented into the foundation long ago. They’re not going anywhere. As a matter of due diligence, he thinks for a moment about what Matt’s plan would be should he miraculously topple the chair over, but he quickly decides not to waste his time. Matt is too stupid and increasingly too weak to best him. He checks on their IV bags and starts to replenish them while Matt does his best tough-guy impression.