switched the portable laptop from her left hand to her right, and looked at
Striker. ‘Hopefully, the ME will find something to connect the explosion to the torture scene at the concrete plant.’
Striker nodded. ‘Maybe there’ll be some explosives residue on the body. Otherwise, we’ll be waiting on word from Kami.’
Felicia cast him a cool glance. ‘
Kami
, is it?’
‘What?’
‘Forget it, just you and your ego again.’
‘My
what
?’
‘Oh please, Jacob. Like you don’t know, with all the cheesy lines you threw out there.’
‘What lines?’
‘“
I’m Striker – with an S.”
“
I like to dabble.
”’ She shook her head. ‘You’re an obsessive-compulsive
flirt.’
‘I wasn’t flirting—’
She held up a hand. ‘Spare me.’
Before Striker could say more, the booth jolted, descended to the next level, and the doors opened. In silence, they walked on with the only sound being the clicking of their heels against the
floor. They reached Examination Room 3. Before Striker could so much as knock, the large grey door opened, revealing Kirstin Dunsmuir, the Chief Medical Examiner.
Kirstin Dunsmuir looked as artificial as she always did. An overabundance of injected collagen caused her chiselled lips to perpetually purse, and the muscles between her eyes had been Botoxed
so many times that her face showed little emotion, even on those rare occasions when she actually expressed any.
Striker forced a weak smile. ‘Hello, Kirstin. Still the life
and
the death of the party?’
Dunsmuir said nothing. She just stared back through icy-blue contacts – ones that matched the blue shade of her smock and surgical cap. ‘Come inside, Detectives.’ She wheeled
about and walked deeper into the room, expecting them to follow.
Once inside, Felicia placed the laptop on the nearest counter and brought up all the information they had on the toy shop address. As she read, Striker approached the examination table, where
the body of their victim lay.
Against the dull metallic glimmer of steel, the blackened tissues stood out and appeared terribly fragile. The face and head regions had been completely obliterated by the blast, and the rest of
the remains looked somewhat inhuman.
‘God in heaven,’ he said.
‘God has no part in this.’ Dunsmuir smiled bleakly. ‘This is
my
domain.’
Striker offered no response. The more he looked at the body, the more disconcerting it became – had these remains really been a living, breathing person just a few hours ago? It
didn’t seem possible.
He worried about the woman’s family.
‘I want this one done right away, Kirstin.’
The medical examiner’s lips parted enough to suggest a weak grin. ‘You obviously haven’t heard about the shootings this morning.’
‘What shootings?’
‘Just the latest round of gang warfare.’ Dunsmuir spoke the words without emotion. ‘I have two dead from the Sharma gang in Rooms 5 and 6, and one unknown in Room 1. And with
both my assistants away at the body farm, we’ve got no one extra for coverage.’
‘Meaning?’
She met his stare. ‘If I get to your body at all today, consider it divine intervention.’
‘Fuck the gangster. This woman comes first.’
‘That’s not how it works down here, Detective, and you know it. We’re looking at tomorrow morning – at best.’
Striker cursed under his breath. He was about to further debate the issue when the door to the examination room opened and Detective Harry Eckhart walked through.
‘Harry,’ Striker said, somewhat surprised to see the man. ‘What are you doing here?’
The detective shrugged. ‘Was picking up some medical release forms at the pick counter when I saw you two come down. After this afternoon’s chase I thought I’d pop in and see
what was what.’
Striker said nothing. With the exception of the chase this morning, he hadn’t seen Harry in a long time – not since Harry had transferred to the General Investigation Unit at
Striker. ‘Hopefully, the ME will find something to connect the explosion to the torture scene at the concrete plant.’
Striker nodded. ‘Maybe there’ll be some explosives residue on the body. Otherwise, we’ll be waiting on word from Kami.’
Felicia cast him a cool glance. ‘
Kami
, is it?’
‘What?’
‘Forget it, just you and your ego again.’
‘My
what
?’
‘Oh please, Jacob. Like you don’t know, with all the cheesy lines you threw out there.’
‘What lines?’
‘“
I’m Striker – with an S.”
“
I like to dabble.
”’ She shook her head. ‘You’re an obsessive-compulsive
flirt.’
‘I wasn’t flirting—’
She held up a hand. ‘Spare me.’
Before Striker could say more, the booth jolted, descended to the next level, and the doors opened. In silence, they walked on with the only sound being the clicking of their heels against the
floor. They reached Examination Room 3. Before Striker could so much as knock, the large grey door opened, revealing Kirstin Dunsmuir, the Chief Medical Examiner.
Kirstin Dunsmuir looked as artificial as she always did. An overabundance of injected collagen caused her chiselled lips to perpetually purse, and the muscles between her eyes had been Botoxed
so many times that her face showed little emotion, even on those rare occasions when she actually expressed any.
Striker forced a weak smile. ‘Hello, Kirstin. Still the life
and
the death of the party?’
Dunsmuir said nothing. She just stared back through icy-blue contacts – ones that matched the blue shade of her smock and surgical cap. ‘Come inside, Detectives.’ She wheeled
about and walked deeper into the room, expecting them to follow.
Once inside, Felicia placed the laptop on the nearest counter and brought up all the information they had on the toy shop address. As she read, Striker approached the examination table, where
the body of their victim lay.
Against the dull metallic glimmer of steel, the blackened tissues stood out and appeared terribly fragile. The face and head regions had been completely obliterated by the blast, and the rest of
the remains looked somewhat inhuman.
‘God in heaven,’ he said.
‘God has no part in this.’ Dunsmuir smiled bleakly. ‘This is
my
domain.’
Striker offered no response. The more he looked at the body, the more disconcerting it became – had these remains really been a living, breathing person just a few hours ago? It
didn’t seem possible.
He worried about the woman’s family.
‘I want this one done right away, Kirstin.’
The medical examiner’s lips parted enough to suggest a weak grin. ‘You obviously haven’t heard about the shootings this morning.’
‘What shootings?’
‘Just the latest round of gang warfare.’ Dunsmuir spoke the words without emotion. ‘I have two dead from the Sharma gang in Rooms 5 and 6, and one unknown in Room 1. And with
both my assistants away at the body farm, we’ve got no one extra for coverage.’
‘Meaning?’
She met his stare. ‘If I get to your body at all today, consider it divine intervention.’
‘Fuck the gangster. This woman comes first.’
‘That’s not how it works down here, Detective, and you know it. We’re looking at tomorrow morning – at best.’
Striker cursed under his breath. He was about to further debate the issue when the door to the examination room opened and Detective Harry Eckhart walked through.
‘Harry,’ Striker said, somewhat surprised to see the man. ‘What are you doing here?’
The detective shrugged. ‘Was picking up some medical release forms at the pick counter when I saw you two come down. After this afternoon’s chase I thought I’d pop in and see
what was what.’
Striker said nothing. With the exception of the chase this morning, he hadn’t seen Harry in a long time – not since Harry had transferred to the General Investigation Unit at
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