LATER that morning, Genie parked her duty vehicle in a spot near the back door of the ME’s office. She kept her conversation with Rafa professional throughout the trip, but her mind teemed with questions about his past. He had arrived at the precinct first, greeting her with a broad grin and a cup of coffee — no doubt a bribe to let her guard down. His mood was infectious, and she worked hard to keep a stoic expression.
She longed to know more about his connection to the Snakes, but Rafa’s hesitancy to offer information about his life in California didn’t surprise her. She would have to elicit facts from him if she wanted anything concrete. Hopefully, the case would lead them in a direction that would force Rafa to be more forthcoming. They were partners in a multiple murder investigation and anything Rafa held back could potentially damage the outcome of the case, or lead to more killings.
Genie put the car in park and turned off the ignition. She glanced at Rafa. He removed his blazer, his body angling uncomfortably close to hers. Her eyes came to rest on the collared shirt stretched tight over his wide, muscled chest. His movements caused musk and spice to wash over her. She couldn’t stop herself from inhaling and exhaling and inhaling again. Rafa opened the door and stepped out. Then he tossed his jacket onto the seat.
Genie let out a decided breath and exited the vehicle. Focus. She needed to direct all her energies at the case and not on her devastatingly handsome partner. Hopefully, the ME would discover some trace evidence. The same killer was at work again, or possibly a copycat, although Genie considered the latter not at all likely.
Genie followed Rafa up the short stack of steps. He quickly rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing two muscled biceps, one with a faint tattoo of something Genie couldn’t make out. But the tattoo didn’t hold her attention. Deeply tanned skin flexed taut over toned arms extended to his broad shoulders. He stopped at the top step and adjusted the crease of the folded sleeves. All her focus went out the window. Genie, mouth slightly open, stomped onto the upper step. Take your eyes off his guns! Genie blinked and cleared her throat.
“Did you get those muscles from beating people up while in the gang?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Her attempt to erase the reality of her own gawking backfired. Instead of a glib comment, he angled himself toward her, placed two large hands on his slim hips, and gave her a megawatt smile. Genie’s eyes drifted from his biceps to his hands and then to his hips. She swallowed, her throat dry with surprising desire.
“I’m glad you approve.” His gaze casually took in her frame, appreciation sparking in his eyes. “You’re obviously athletic.”
Of all the nerve. He was trying to unsettle her. Well, I’m already unsettled, thank you very much! Genie cast her eyes upward and instead of waiting for him to open the door, she snatched the handle, flung it open, and marched inside. She heard Rafa’s laughter behind her. He knew the effect he had on her. Her teeth ground together. Where was the ME? It was nine a.m. Shouldn’t the autopsy be happening right about now? “Doctor Morrison?” she practically yelled. Calm down, Genie.
“Detective Green?”
Genie heard a muted voice. A middle-aged woman in scrubs came out from behind a pair of swinging doors, her gloved hands held high. Genie recognized the dark streaks on the gloves as blood from a deceased human body. A strong odor of decay emanated from the room Dr. Morrison stepped out of.
“Doctor. I hope we’re not too late.”
“Nope, right on time. I just started. Grab some gloves inside on the desk and a face mask if you need one.”
“This is Detective Santiago.” Genie gestured to Rafa. “He’s here consulting on the case. Says the style of killing is similar to something he’s seen out in San Diego.”
“Oh, is that right?” Genie could only see the doctor’s eyebrows rise. “Well, I’d shake your hand but, you know.” She shrugged, her voice sounding sheepish.
“I’m not at all offended, Doctor. Nice to meet you.”
Genie’s spine stiffened. She imagined that behind her flashed a charming smile spreading across Rafa’s too-chiseled cheekbones and deepening into two perfect chasms. Genie didn’t turn around, but the picture was confirmed by the slightly nervous giggle of the doctor.
“Follow me.” Morrison backed into the doors, opening them.
Genie scrunched up her nose at the smell and reached for a surgical mask. Rafa did the same. After they slapped on latex gloves, Dr. Morrison motioned for them to come to the autopsy table. The deceased lay nude on the metal slab. Genie was grateful the woman’s eyes were closed. In her mind, she could still see the fear displayed in them the night before.
“Maribol Canales. Twenty-three years old and according to medical records, in good health,” the doctor said. “Preliminary cause of death is blood loss due to stabbing and as you can see,” she pointed to the puncture wounds and followed them down the left side of her body, “the same type of design was on Alberto Gonzales, Consuela Cruz, and Mario Desanto. Five stab wounds, beginning with the top in the chest, and four more in a snake-like pattern, ending in the abdomen. I’ve finished taking photographs and autopsy prints, and I am about to open her up. Wanna watch?”
Genie and Rafa exchanged hesitant glances. She’d witnessed quite a few autopsies as a detective and she didn’t doubt Rafa had as well. They were never pleasant and usually lasted a few hours. “We have nowhere to be,” Genie answered.
“Good, and Detective Santiago can fill me in on what he knows happened in San Diego.”
“Absolutely. Are you sure the first wound was the one in the chest?” Rafa asked.
Dr. Morrison let out a sigh. “Well… we can’t always be sure which wound was first, but my expert guess says the top.” She ran a finger around the opening. “As you can see, the wound is deeper, which translates to the killer intending that one to do the most damage. Although the others are extensive, they appear to be more for the show of design, and not exactly the deathblow. What did the ME in California think?”
“The same,” came Rafa’s grim reply.
Genie wondered how many deaths he’d experienced in California. How often did this enterprise kill, and why? Was it for petty grievances or something more? Genie couldn’t wrap her head around this case. An older man, a teenage boy, a mother, and now a young woman. What was their connection? Who would be next?
“What are we looking at, Detective Santiago? A serial killer? Gang-related killing?”
“Somewhat the latter, Doctor. I’ve heard this method of killing described in detail.”
“Gangs, huh?” Dr. Morrison leaned into the body and slipped a blade into the chest cavity opposite the wounds. “That’s never good. This is the second murder in the last couple of days. Four total, correct? I hope you’re not going to keep me too busy, Detective Green.” She continued to drag the blade to the middle of the chest and then down the center of the victim’s mass.
“Me too,” Genie whispered. “Me too.”