“This is Detective Archer Malone, badge number 7-4-3-6-2-2, Copeland City PD. I’m on the south side of City Park, and I’ve just found a body.”
“She’s dead.” Minka kneels in her dress and heels and searches for a pulse. “Call for Aubree, too.”
“Contact Detective Charlie Fletcher,” I tell the dispatcher on the phone. “And Doctor Aubree Emeri. We have a homicide.”
MINKA
“Let’s establish our perimeter first.” I speak to Aubree and another uniform I don’t actually know, while Archer and Fletch stand just feet away, talking amongst themselves and keeping watch over us. “It’s gonna be difficult to pull her out without causing more damage from the bushes.”
“Maybe we could slide a tarp in,” the officer volunteers. “Try to create space between her and the vegetation.”
“Maybe.”
With a single call, Archer made it so the park has been lit up like Times Square, and crime scene workers install makeshift walls to block the wind and stop the looky-loos from coming too close.
“Or, instead of shoving things down there or yanking her out, how about we cut the vegetation away and make room?” I suggest.
I look across to Aubree, but she doesn’t need me to say the words to have her spinning away in search of shears.
“What’s your name, Officer?” I demand.
“Clay, Doctor. Brady Clay. I come out of midtown, but I circle the park a few times every shift to keep an eye on things.”
“Alright. Officer Clay, I’m going to need a little muscle in a minute, but muscle that has control of themselves. Can I count on you?”
“Yes, Doctor.” He steps closer and risks a glance across to the body.
She’s as naked as the day she was born. Her body is swollen, rigor appears to have come and gone, and now, unless I reach in and move a few branches aside, I see nothing but her feet. Her ankles. A small portion of her leg.
Though, when Idomove those branches, even an untrained eye can see the blood coating her thighs and lower stomach.
“I’m going to need you to follow my instructions,” I tell him. And when Aubree dashes back with a set of garden tools she somehow conjured from sheer willpower, I offer them to Clay. “Cut what I tell you to cut. Move only what I tell you to move.” I look to Aubree. “Film the entire reveal. We need to be able to come back and watch the footage.”
I’d prefer to get the woman out myself. I’d rather make every single cut and be responsible for every movement this body has to make, but I can’t compete with a prickly bush without making a mess of my own on my crime scene.
“We’re going to get her out one twig at a time, do you understand, Officer Clay?” I glance back to Aubree and nod my approval when, automatically, she knows to offer gloves. Not just a pair for me, but another set for Clay.
I turn and offer them to him, then I accept a pair of disposable booties from my second to replace my heels.
It’s not a good look, but heels aren’t practical on a crime scene.
“Are we ready to start?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Aubree takes a camera from the bag we bring to every job and switches it on. “I’m ready.”
“I’m ready,” Brady echoes. He snaps his gloves into place and takes care to step around the woman’s legs, one foot on each side, to find balance. “Where do I cut first, Doctor?”
“Here.” I come as close to the pair as I can manage. Standing on my toes, walking in the garden, careful not to mess up any evidence.
I place one hand on Brady’s forearm to keep my balance, then I tuck my hair back and point to the first tuft of foliage. “She was dumped here, passed through this shrub, so we kinda already have a path to take. Cut this one.” I reach between the prickles, and clamp my lips shut when I scrape my skin anyway. “Cut it there, carefully, and pull the loose greenery straight upwards.”
“How are we doing?” Archer comes up on my right and places his hand under my arm. He doesn’t say anything about my position, doesn’t make a big deal about the line of blood already trickling along my wrist. But he keeps me steady, and when I glance back, his eyes bore into mine. “Need a hand?”
“Yeah, actually. Can you get a sheet laid out so we can put the offcuts on top? We’ll want to sift through them for biological evidence.”
“Sure.” He doesn’t release me, but he turns to another uniform and nods a wordless request.
Bringing his gaze back my way, he waits as Brady carefully snips through a thick branch and lifts it, using core strength and not moving his feet a single inch.