Page 99 of Mine to Share
And Sneaks. The reclusive cat had grown on me.
“Thank you.” Finally moving back, he nodded toward the lab where we processed the evidence before shipping it all to the main lab in San Diego. “I’ll go to work now.”
I watched him walk off, afraid if I took my eyes off him, he’d hug-attack me again.
When he was safely inside the lab, I hurried into the morgue, not stopping until I had several metal tables between me and the doors. Hand lightly clasped around my throat, I inhaled deeply and counted to five before slowly releasing it, hoping that would calm my racing heart.
I wasn’t in danger. I was safe. But even though the threat I’d suspected was not actually real, dread and worry still churned my stomach.
Something felt off, not counting the strange encounter, but I couldn’t put my finger on the reason.
Shaking my head to dislodge the unwarranted feeling, I set my handbag and drink on the desk along the side wall and tapped the space bar on the computer, eager to check my emails. Hopefully, the lab had identified the type of shoe the unsub wore from the print we’d pulled at victim number five’s home. Or even better, narrowed down the cat breed from the strands I’d pulled from victim number two’s clothing.
The unease faded to excitement at finding the emails I’d waited impatiently for in my inbox. Clicking on the first one from the lab, I read the findings. The shoe print wasn’t enough to go by, unfortunately, considering it was only a partial heel impression. Disappointing, but that was okay since we’d profiled that she ditched all her clothes after the crime.
The next email had me sitting up straighter. They’d found a match for the cat breed.
“Maine coon,” I muttered under my breath.Huh, never heard of it.
I opened a browser and typed the breed into the search bar. Instantly, pictures of enormous cats appeared on the screen along with articles about the breed’s temperament, care instructions, and diet. Scrolling through the images, I laughed out loud at a few of the funnier ones and, after losing at least twenty minutes to hilarious cat memes, minimized the screen.
Shifting back into work mode, I jotted down a quick note to update Jameson and Slade on these findings and attach the email to the case files. Accurate documentation throughout the case was essential; the last thing I wanted was to be the reason a suspect went free because of a clerical error.
Standing, I shrugged off the light jacket I’d slipped on in the car and draped it over the back of my chair, trading it for my white lab coat. It might not be an autopsy day, but I still needed to dress the part while pulling evidence. After checking the drawer number for last night’s victim, I yanked open the cooler door and slid the metal rolling table along the smooth tracks.
Just like I’d requested, the body was still in the black bag, barely touched, even his shoes still on, ready for me to go over his clothes and body with a fine-tooth comb.
“All right, all right, all right. Let’s get this party started, shall we? Shit, I forgot your name already. I’m a terrible person.” Moving back to the computer, I double-tapped the keyboard. “Parker. Okay, so we’ll start by going over every square inch of your clothing with my light and magnifying lens. Cool? Cool. Well, I guess youarecool since, you know, you’ve been in the cooler all night.”
Even I rolled my eyes at that one. The lame jokes needed to stop if I didn’t want to grow old all alone and eventually get eaten by my plethora of cats.
Oh, maybe a few Maine coons. They were cute.
More than an hour passed with me totally engrossed in pulling what looked to be foreign hairs and other particles off the victim’s clothes, placing everything into tiny evidence baggies to send to the lab. Nothing jumped out as abnormal until I rolled him over. On his back, between his shoulder blades, was a single hair that gave me pause. Pinched between my tweezers, I held it beneath the magnifying glass and rotated it, allowing the bright light to reflect off the long blonde hair.
Odd.
The woman we’d found in the parking lot was a redhead, and Detective Savage was a short-haired brunette. I’d found hairs from each of them on the front of the victim—or at least what appeared to be theirs to the naked eye. DNA would confirm my suspicions. This one was not only a different color but the texture didn’t even look like a normal hair. I rolled it between two gloved fingers, squinting at the blonde strand, when it hit me.
Fake. The hair was synthetic.
I flicked my gaze to the back of the victim’s head. I couldn’t confirm anything until I did an official autopsy, but what if this hair was attached to his back because he was attacked first from behind by the unsub? With the damage done to the back of his skull from the unsub slamming it to the pavement, there was no way to confirm my theory. Tapping my fingers on the metal table, I worked through the various possibilities.
Our unsub might have been watching, conducting her normal surveillance, when she realized Parker had drugged the woman in the parking lot. No way could our unsub let him hurt that woman and do nothing. Which was why this crime scene was so different from the others. It was a blitz attack, unplanned and sloppy.
Something tickled in the back of my mind from the night before. After placing the hair in a tiny evidence baggie, I headed out of the morgue toward the tiny crime lab. It wasn’t much more than a place to process the evidence collected at the scenes before shipping it off to San Diego for analysis.
The moment I burst through the door, the tech from earlier jerked his head up, clearly startled by my abrupt entrance.
“Last night, you guys bagged everything in the alley, right?” He nodded, eyes wide. “Great, perfect.” Hands on my hips, I took in the massive number of brown bags. “Any chance you remember bagging and tagging a blonde wig? I feel like I remember someone making a joke or funny comment about it. But I have zero clue where it would be, or maybe it’s wishful think—”
“I actually just got done processing it.” He held up the brown bag in front of him. “Long blonde synthetic hair. I swabbed the band that goes around the head for trace DNA. And there was some red splatter that I assumed was blood, so I swabbed that too.”
I wasn’t a hugger, but I so wanted to hug him at that moment. Though the urge passed quickly when he leaned over and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his lab coat.
Gross.
“Please let the lab know we need a rush on those results. As fast as they can. I think our killer wore it while she attacked the victim.”