Blood Lily (Lilith Adams Vampire Series Book 1) (16 page)

A few agonizing minutes later, she heard Chance walking toward the office door and turned to follow him. He stopped in front of the door, staring at it and for a moment her heart thudded in her chest thinking he was going to snap on her.
She couldn’t handle another word from him right now. All her nerves were raw and she felt rejected in some way and impossibly angry. Must be that sensitive ego of hers. In one fluid motion, Chance reached under the back of his shirt and pulled his gun from the holster.

She moved to the side to take a look at the door
as the whole world seemed to tilt. She’d been so buried in her inner turmoil that being brought back to reality seemed like a harsh change of perspective.

The wooden door f
rame was splintered into pieces. As for the door itself, it just hung open ominously. Chance motioned her back away from the door and he moved to the hinged side. She caught his eyes and mouthed “Don’t touch anything.” He shot a harsh glare that cut right to the bone and made her stomach churn all over again. Oh yeah. He was definitely pissed. There was something kinda terrifying of having a six foot three Cajun pissed off at you. Of course she was slightly more terrified of what might be waiting for them inside.

His right hand kept the gun trained on the opening between the door and the frame
and his foot slowly pushed the door open. His hard eyes scanned the room, he motioned again for her to stay put and slipped into the room. Lilith peeked around the edge of the door frame and her eyes went wide. The place reeked of blood. Even a human would smell it. She looked around the parking lot behind her, suddenly feeling a million different eyes watching her. She couldn’t stay out here in the open like this. Something was dead inside that office and it was bad enough that their car was parked out front. She needed to get her case and get out of sight as fast as possible.

Lilith ran back to the car, grabbed her kit from the back seat and slid into the office, standing with her back against
the wall and waited for Chance to emerge from one of the back rooms. She was very careful not to touch the wall or anything else. Her heart raced while her eyes searched the dark room. Finally they focused on the door to an office as if she could magically make Chance appear. Every muscle in her body stung with tension, making her hands shake. She pulled the aluminum case up and wrapped her arms around it so she wouldn’t drop it. It gave her something solid to hold on to, to focus on.

She was never this nervous at crime scenes. Of course there was an inherent anonymity to crime scenes. She didn’t know them, they didn’t know her.
If there was a body here it was probably a family member, and the attacker not only knew her but he could still be lurking here. At least in New York the scene was cleared before she got there. Here he could be hiding anywhere. He’d almost killed her once already. She was really hoping to avoid a repeat performance.

Her mind started
running through the crime scene checklist automatically. Organizing her thoughts helped keep her calm. Neither of them were wearing gloves, but as long as they didn’t touch anything they were okay. If the cops became involved it would be especially important that they leave no trace behind. She could only hope that Chance would be careful not to disturb anything.

The weather was still dry so footprints shouldn’t really be an issue. She hadn’t seen any lights on in the buildings around, so maybe they would get lucky. The last thing they needed was an eyewitness placing them at a crime scene. There was no doubt left in her mind that this was a crime scene. The smell was overwhelming even standing right near the door. It was more complex than just blood. She could smell urine, sweat,
feces. Whatever happened, it hadn’t been quick.

Suddenly, C
hance peeked out of the door she was staring holes into. He put his gun back in his holster and dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s all clear. You better get in here with that kit.” His eyes looked haunted. “I think it might be Miriah.”

Chapter 8

             
C
hance looked sick as he leaned against the wall in the main office. The door to the back office stood open, ominously. It didn’t look like the anonymous prefab door of a strip mall office. It closer resembled the gateway to hell from Dante’s Inferno. Her mind replayed what he said. It might be Miriah. Not it is Miriah, it might be her. From the pale hue of Chance’s skin, she knew it had to be beyond bad. This was her job, what she did for a living. She could do this, she had to do this. Chance didn’t process crime scenes on a daily basis. He wasn’t used to dealing with dead bodies. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad. Technically, bad for most people was mild for her. Besides, if it really was Miriah, Duncan was still out there. He needed her.

             
She stopped in the doorway, preparing herself. She looked up at Chance and knew he was struggling. “Can you stay out here? I’d feel safer with you watching the door.” His face flooded with relief and when he nodded, she knew it was a silent thank you for not making him stand in that room. “And put these on.” She handed him a pair of purple neoprene gloves. “We can’t leave any trace evidence behind.”

             
Chance stared at them for a moment, and then pulled them on. He didn’t make a wise crack about the color, just looked like he was trying to keep from throwing up. She noticed the tension in his throat and grabbed his arm.

             
“Chance.” She held his wavering gaze. “If you need to puke, find a trash can small enough to take with us. You can extract DNA from the saliva and stomach acids. We can’t have yours all over the floor okay.” She saw the way he bristled and she cut him short. “Look, no macho pretenses. I’m just saying. In case. Okay? You can’t protect me if the cops arrest you for murder with concrete DNA evidence.”  He nodded silently but still looked vaguely offended.

             
With a deep breath she stepped into the room and the smell doubled her over. As bad as it’d been at the door, it was a hundred times worse in the room. She choked on the air as she dropped her case by the door and dug out a little jar of Vicks vapor rub. It was her secret weapon for really bad cases and autopsies. It blocked all the other smells when you dabbed it under your nose. It’s funny how they never show that on crime dramas. Perhaps, it detracts from the sex appeal of the characters to see them dabbing goop on their lip. As if the dead body in the room wasn’t enough of a turn off.

Lilith
grabbed a dull probe, a thermometer and a few other supplies, tucked them in her pockets and closed her case. She straightened and slowly walked toward the desk while pulling on her neoprene gloves. Her eyes couldn’t make sense of the mess lying across the oak desk. They refused to think of it as a person, vainly trying to protect her from what she was actually seeing. She kept glancing away subconsciously. Golden blonde hair flowed over the end of the desk which seemed oddly untouched compared to the rest of the body. The body. Suddenly her mind clicked into painful clarity and the mess began to resemble the body it had once been. Her world spun and for a moment she thought she was going to collapse. She squeezed her eyes closed, focused on Gregor, Duncan, Chance, Spencer, all the people that depended on her to solve this thing.

Lilith stepped right up to the desk and forced herself to look at this as another job, some nameless person. It wasn’t a very hard thing to do,
considering the face was not recognizable at all. She dug her phone out of her pocket, set up the voice recorder and set it on the little cart holding the fax machine. It may not be an official case, but the process would keep her calm and the notes might come in handy later. It also helped her think, talking through things out loud.

“Female body, pos
sibly Miriah Sanders. Found at… 10:14 pm at the accounting office of Miriah Sanders. Victim was laid out on the office table, as if displaying his work. The body was placed here after the fact as a warning…maybe as a dare.”

Lilith pulled the thermometer out of her pocket and automatically plunged it through the skin, into the liver. “
Liver temperature is 89.6 degrees, nine lower than normal…” She pushed up one shoulder and the backside of the body was a dark purple and perfectly smooth. “Lividity is set, which together puts the time of death about 6-8 hours ago. The body was either moved here within an hour of death or was kept in a similar position.”

The legs, or what was left of them, dangled off the edge of the desk, but the dark purple marks on the back of the legs definitely told her something. “The victim was laid out flat for a long time after death and it definitely wasn’t on this desk. It must have been moved here recently.
Most likely in the last hour or so.”

She moved back to the top of the desk and pulled the dull pointer out of her pocket. “Victims hair is approximately two and a half feet long, blonde…” Something bothered her about it and she moved the probe through the bright golden strands. The hair underneath, pushed against the desk, was damp. “
The hair is still damp in spots. There’s no real way to determine the cause. However, the lack of blood in or on the hair seems to indicate that it might have been cleaned post mortem. It must have some significance, but I don’t see what it could be.” Lilith choked on the mixture of the clean, soapy smell of the hair contrasted by the overwhelming smell of blood, urine, and feces that was overpowering the Vick’s vapor rub that coated her nose. “I’ll have to look into the…uh…possible significance of cleaning the hair. Perhaps a cultural ritual or it may be some sort of signature.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself.
Her eyes were avoiding what was left of the face, but there was no putting it off. She stared down at it and tried to find some place to start. “The eye lids have been sliced off as if the victim was meant to see something, or perhaps as a message meant for someone else who needs to “see” something important. The nose was carefully removed with very clean and precise cuts indicating some personal connection of contempt. It was strong enough to want to destroy the centerpiece of the face, but restrained and cold enough to be precise.”

“
The severity of the bruises covering the face indicates multiple fractures, but they are partially healed, inflicted as much as a day before death. There are visible fractures to the Nasal and Vomer bones, indicating that the victim’s nose was severely broken around the same time. The skin is swollen, bloated with dark purples and yellows. The bruising makes the face impossible to accurately identify. The extensive beating seems completely out of character from the cold precision of the cuts. It seems more like pure, uncontrolled rage. Since the bruising was inflicted at least a day apart from the rest of the trauma so far, it could be one assailant on two very different occasions with different motivations, or it could possibly be two different assailants.”

Lilith paused to really reflect on that, giving her eyes a break away from the body. “In fact, it is more likely that it’s two separate assailants. The extent of the trauma to the face would have fractured or broken the assailant
’s hands. Being able to make cuts this precise a mere day later seems highly unlikely.”

             
She glanced back at the eyes, resting loosely in their sockets. The blue was faint, but there, glazed over. The aqueous fluid was thick and cloudy by now. Lilith closed her eyes and had to push herself to continue. She just kept seeing Miriah’s smiling eyes in the myriad of pictures hanging in the apartment that neither Miriah nor Malachi would ever see again.

No. She couldn’t even be certain that this was Miriah. She needed to stay impartial and focused if she was going to get through this.
After another steadying breath, Lilith returned to examining the face. “The extent of the bruising indicates possible fractures to the Zygomatic and Frontal bones around the ocular cavities.” She leaned to one side, flicking on a pen light and flashing it over the hairline. “More possible fractures around the temples. This was a hell of a beating. I can’t really see the same person being capable of the clean incisions. Whoever pounded the victim’s face had no control over their anger and most likely wouldn’t be able to reign it in long enough to inflict the rest of these cuts.”

Lilith
took the probe and pushed at the bluish lips, prying the mouth open. With her handy pen light, she verified that at least nine teeth were missing, most likely inflicted at the time of the beating. She opened the mouth wider and checked the roof of the mouth. There were two gaping wounds just behind the front teeth. “Fangs have been removed, looks like they were yanked out.” She felt suddenly queasy as her tongue unconsciously ran over her own fangs, tucked away.  It would be excruciatingly painful to have them torn out of your skull and it was definitely done while the victim was alive. If they’d been removed after death, there wouldn’t be congealing blood around the wounds.

             
“Fangs have been violently and forcibly removed. It appears to have occurred around the same time as the precision work. Perhaps they were a focal point of rage. That could be significant.”

Lilith squatted down, gathering her thoughts. She felt flushed, hot and
nauseous. Her head pounded furiously as she fought to breathe. This was by far the worst she’d ever seen. It easily surpassed every burn victim and staked body put together. How could anyone do this? The wounds and smells told the story of hours and hours of painful torture. Once she had her breathing under control and swallowed the bile rising in her throat, she pulled herself back up and forced herself to keep going.

             
“There are thousands of very precise, painful but superficial wounds all over the body. An extremely sharp blade sliced through the dermis and into the skeletal muscle. The weapon could be some sort of razor or scalpel. The extent and patterns of blood seem to indicate that she was standing, strapped firmly to something. Rope burns are deep with massive contusions at the neck, bottom of the rib cage, hips, wrists, lower thighs and ankles. There is blood surrounding every wound, indicating they were all inflicted while the victim was still alive.”

             
Lilith turned the arms to check them over and paused, squinting at a tiny mark. “There are puncture wounds at the vein in the bend of the left arm...and the right. She must have lost a lot of blood during the ordeal and it seems they might have been supplying her with additional blood to keep her alive. They avoided deep wounds to keep her from going into shock. None of the incisions cut all the way through the skeletal muscle to the bone. It is far too methodical to be simple… fun. There was a distinct, determined purpose. Perhaps they wanted information from her or someone who cared about what happened to her.” Her stomach lurched at that thought and she fought the bile back down again.

God, if Duncan had been there…if he’d been forced to watch, helplessly. The very thought of that brought stinging tears to her eyes.
Just thinking about how horrifying it would be to watch a loved one tortured to such an extent. It could drive a person into such a deep mental shock that they become catatonic. She couldn’t imagine having to watch while your own daughter was reduced to… Words failed her. It was just too horrible to sum up into one word. The hot, stabbing headache came back with a vengeance, making her stomach churn violently.

Lilith stopped to clear her mind and steel her nerve.
This was the one thing, the only thing, she could do to figure out what was happening. Bodies tell a story and she needed to know this one. As horrible as it might be, it could save all their lives. She had to think of Duncan, Gregor, Chance, even herself. With a teary-eyed, yet determined push, she made her way back to the desk and forced her eyes to focus.

             
The body was riddled with a mixture of burns, patches of removed skin and cuts that left chunks of flesh missing. However, even those gaping wounds weren’t rough tears. They were very precise, clean cuts removing sections of flesh. It takes a very steady, practiced hand. Even the elastic cartilage of her ears was sliced into ribbons. God. She fought back another wave of nausea. Who the hell would even think to slice a person’s ears like Julianne fries? Just thinking about how painful that would be crippled her. She worked her way back down the body, verbally cataloging each and every wound as she went.

When she got to the hands, she stopped again. They were just
purple masses of flesh in a vague hand shape. She moved her deft fingers along them, and found that every single bone in the hand was shattered. The coloring in the bruises varied a great deal, some darker, some lighter. The bones weren’t broken all at once, they’d been broken one at a time. This monster had no soul, just a sickening amount of precision, and perhaps obsession. There are approximately 27 bones in the hand and wrist and he made sure that every single one of them in both hands were broken, from the tiny carpuls of the wrist to the phalanges of the fingertips.

She shook it off and forced herself to keep going
, despite the roaring headache that was getting worse and worse. The feet were still intact, probably to keep her supporting her own weight as much as possible. If the feet were shattered in the same way, the ropes would have to support one hundred percent of her weight. The victim’s weight. Dammit. She had to keep this neutral. There was a reason that examiners used neutral terms like victim and attacker, instead of him and her. You can’t think of the body as a person, especially when it’s this bad. You’d lose your sanity and your focus.