Apocalypse Island by Mark Edward Hall Page B

Jennings said nothing and there was a long silence between the two men. Finally Cavanaugh turned to Jennings and said, “Come on, Rick, what’s really going on here?”
    Jennings sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about that case from five years ago. You know which one I’m talking about.”
    Cavanaugh said nothing, but Jennings could feel the tension rising in his partner, palpable, like a throbbing sore.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” Jennings said.
    “I don’t think you do, Rick.”
    “Listen to me, Frank. I’m thinking it’s time to revisit that case.”
    Cavanaugh shook his head. “No! No! No!” he said adamantly. “I am not going near that case.”
    “I don’t think we have a choice,” Jennings said.
    “Yes we do. For Christ’s sake, Rick, it’s ancient history. Are you crazy? Are you trying to lose us our jobs?”
    “If we lose our jobs then we all lose our jobs. From the medical examiner all the way up to the chief. If you remember correctly we weren’t alone in it. We were the small fish.”
    “Small fish are what they use for bait,” Cavanaugh said. “Of all people, you should know how the political structure in this city works. They’ll chew us up and spit us out. I guarantee it.”
    “If it comes to that, then we’ll testify in front of a grand jury. At least I will. We’ll see who gets burned. I’m sick of the politics.”
    “I don’t understand,” Cavanaugh said. “Why now after all these years?”
    “I think you do understand, Frank. Come on, think about it.”
    When Cavanaugh didn’t answer, Jennings said, “There are two reasons. The first is obvious.”
    “You think it’s the same killer, right?”
    “Don’t you?”
    “Maybe, maybe not,” Cavanaugh said. “I don’t care. I think we should just leave it alone.”
    Jennings smiled grimly, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. The one important fact that everyone seems to be forgetting is no one but a handful of us knew how she really died. The public was never made aware of the cross or the stab wounds. Remember, Frank?”
    “Yeah I remember. I’m the one that found the body. But I never knew how they kept what really happened from the family.”
    “Easy as pie,” Jennings said. “The cross was like an autopsy scar. All the coroner had to do was trace it, fix her up a little bit, you know, do a little cosmetic stuff and voila. Besides, families don’t usually view their dead loved ones naked.”
    “Tell me exactly what happened that morning, Frank. As close as you can remember anyway.”
    “We’ve been over this before, Rick.”
    “I know, but it’s been a long time and I think it’s important that I hear it again.”
    “You’re really going after this, huh?”
    “I might.”
    Cavanaugh gave a long weary sigh. “Well, okay, for one thing we weren’t looking for a body. The feds were in town. The story was that some con had escaped from a federal facility over in New York State and they’d gotten a tip that he’d come this way. It wasn’t even our case. We were just assisting. I remember they said the guy was dangerous but they wanted him alive.” Cavanaugh paused in thought.
    Jennings nodded, waiting for Cavanaugh to continue.
    “I just happened to be on duty that night and so Robeson gave me the okay to go along and assist. I could tell the feds were reluctant but they needed someone who knew the area. Christ they even brought their own dogs. The dogs picked up the scent over on the Falmouth marshes. There’s a bunch of walking trails over at Shoreline Park. We were on one of those trails. I was in the lead with two of the feds. The dogs were going nuts. We rounded a bend and there she was, dead on the ground right in the middle of the trail with that big cross cut into her chest. Christ, what a sight. The lead fed guy, I think his name was Spencer—”
    “Yeah, it was Spencer,” Jennings said.
    “Well, he got one look at the body and he turned white as a sheet. He warned me off.