Bug Man Suspense 3-in-1 Bundle by Tim Downs

to be the body of a Caucasian male, but at a distance it wasn’t easy to tell. The tissues had already begun to turn a greenish-blue, and under the brackish water the color looked even worse.
    Nick turned to the group. “Folks, I need to explain something to you. I’m Dr. Nick Polchak; I’m a forensic entomologist from North Carolina State University. This is Jerry Kibbee; Jerry and I work for an organization called DMORT—the Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team. Our job is to collect bodies—that’s what we normally do, only there are so many people trapped on rooftops right now that we’ve been asked to help with the rescue efforts first. That’s why we’re here today, and that’s why you’re all in this boat with us; but sooner or later we’ll have to come back for the bodies, and that happens to be one of them right over there. So if you’ll bear with me for just a minute, I need to take a closer look.”
    When they reached the body, Nick stuck an oar deep into the water and pushed forward, causing the boat to come about in a tight J. He leaned over the port gunnels and looked down at the body; he saw a deep, jagged gash down the center of the forehead and a line of plump white maggots wedged into the wound like pebbles in a sidewalk crack. “I need to look closer,” he said.
    â€œCloser than this ?”
    He handed the oar across to Jerry and opened his equipment bag. He took out what appeared to be a tool kit or tackle box. He opened it in his lap and removed a long, slender pair of forceps and a small glass jar filled with a colorless liquid.
    â€œGet me in close,” Nick said to Jerry.
    Jerry brought the boat around until it was almost touching the head.
    â€œI need a couple of you to shift to your right to keep us balanced,” Nick told the group. “I need to collect a few maggots.”
    The entire group scrambled to the opposite side of the boat, which lurched precariously to starboard. Two people shouted in alarm; one of them was Jerry.
    â€œEasy, folks,” Nick said. “Jerry, get a grip—I could use your help here.”
    Jerry shifted his considerable mass around to the port side. The boat struck a tenuous balance again, with five horrified passengers on one side and Nick and Jerry on the other—with J.T. sandwiched between them. Together they slid onto their knees and leaned out over the water and the body just below.
    Nick looked over at the boy. “You okay with this?”
    â€œCool,” he said with a grin.
    Nick removed the lid from one of the jars and handed it to J.T. “Hold this,” he said. “Don’t spill it.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œIt’s called Kahle’s solution. It’s sort of a preservative.”
    Nick took the silver forceps and flexed them a few times.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œA light-tension larval forceps—it lets me pick up maggots without squashing them.”
    He reached down to the body and began to pluck maggots from the center of the ragged wound. He held the first one up close to his enormous lenses and rotated it back and forth, studying it.
    â€œI thought so,” he said.
    He removed several more maggots and dropped them one by one into the waiting jar.
    â€œSee how the wound looks kind of ragged? That means the tissues were torn, not cut. That’s what they call a ‘blunt-trauma’ wound.”
    Nick twisted the lid back onto the jar and turned to the other passengers. “That’s all I needed,” he said. “Thanks for your patience. There’s just one more thing: I need to bring this body with us.”
    â€œSay what ?”
    â€œWe’ve got plenty of room if we lay it along the left side. I’ve got a body bag right here.”
    â€œLord have mercy,” someone groaned.
    Even Jerry looked astonished. “Nick, what are you doing? You know what DMORT told us: first the