After the sleepless night she’d spent haunted by the woman’s hideous face, the buzz of male voices, men laughing and joking about the usual crap—sports, spouses or subordinates—got on her nerves. She activated the computer projector. The first picture on the screen a full-on picture of the two bodies in the dumpster. Without the smell to accompany it, the view was nearly tolerable. All the same, she didn’t look. Been there, done that. No one wanted the T-shirt.
The blood drained from their faces as the reality of the scene settled over them.
“Good. I’ve got your attention now.” She clicked through to the next picture, a close-up of the second woman’s arm, covered with reptilian green skin. The detail of the photos only increased their horror value.
“These are the most revealing photos we’ve received to date, with significant information on the alterations. Notice the texture of the skin isn’t scaly, like a snake, but something more akin to the old Terran Gila monster. The techs describe the nubs of bright color as ‘smooth and dry, almost bead-like.’”
She moved on to the next photo. “As with the other deceased we’ve found, these two were in varying states of change. According to the lab, the one with the altered face is farthest along in the transformation. Autopsy proves her internal organs have also been affected, her heart mutated to a three-chambered organ, her diaphragm atrophied and reproductive organs altered, in their estimation, from the human capacity for live births to that of an egg-laying species.”
Stocky veteran officer Sloan Vincent looked up from his third cup of stimcoff and frowned. “Now, hold on. You’re saying she was becoming a reptile?”
“So they’ve determined. These are not skin grafts or other limited conversions. Whoever’s doing this apparently means to make the vic over into a full reptile.”
“What in the name of all the hells for?” Akim Qilamen adjusted his stylish tie, fidgeting in his chair. “What good would a woman be if she laid eggs, hmm?”
“The question before us,” Kylie persisted, “is why? What purpose does the transformation serve? If we can determine why, maybe we can head off the perp before he strikes again.”
She sat on the edge of the table at the front of the room, shoving a box aside with her hip before she clicked through the next photos, a rundown of all their vics. “Over the last three months, eight victims. Different areas of the subdivision. Different mutations. The coroner hasn’t determined whether the mutation process is the cause of death. No outward signs of other trauma, however, so that theory’s the most likely. They’re still working on how the mutation is taking place, so—”
“So,” came a clipped male voice from behind the screen, “we have a terrified subdivision and nothing to give them. As you can imagine, this is not popular with the government types. Not that I care, particularly.”
Kylie’s boss, Jaco Rand, came out to join her. A scar graced his left cheek from eye to ear. Balding, wisps of wiry red hair clinging to his hairline like moss on the side of a deteriorating building, Jaco was short, squat and bristled with attitude. He’d grown up on the Rim, on one of the outer planets where life was wilder and less regulated. He believed in order, but not in authority.
He continued, “On the other hand, we have budget requirements and it would be delightful to come up with a big score. Especially if we want to purchase the new mobile crime lab we’ve been talking about. Nothing pays like success. So I want this done, and done right.”
He turned to Kylie. “You’ve got kits for each of them?”
Torn between anger because he’d minimized her and trashed her briefing, and relief that the display of gruesome pictures had concluded, Kylie gestured to the box behind her on the table. “I was getting there.”
Jaco studied her with beady blue eyes then broke into a smile. “You’re cute when you’re pissed off.”
Kylie’s face flushed and she turned away.
To the men, he said, “Study this information and hit the streets. Ask the local cops for their usual snitches then the unusual ones. Someone knows something about this. And I want it to be us. Dismissed.”
The men dutifully filed up to retrieve the dossiers.
Still burning at Jaco’s cavalier takeover, Kylie killed the power on the projector and threw on her shiny black leather jacket. Her sister Nissa had bought it for Kylie’s twenty-fifth birthday. It cost more than Kylie made in three months. The label wasn’t why she wore it, but the warmth.
Jaco hung around until everyone else left. Kylie packed the rest of the photos into an evidence box. She cleared her throat into the silence. “That was dirty.”
He came closer, staying out of arm’s reach, and shoved his thick hands into his pants pockets. “Yeah. It probably was. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Right.” She hadn’t expected him to take responsibility, even be almost apologetic. It wasn’t his usual way. It threw her off stride.
His foot tapped. “So, I’m sorry.”
She glanced at him, actually a look down, since he was a finger’s length shorter than she was. His lips pressed together as he stared at her, eyebrows raised and shoulders hunched up. His ‘poor me’ look. Did he really think that was the best way to get what he wanted?
“You sure are sorry,” she said.
He just smirked. “Dr. Astrid wants you down in the morgue. Time to put your dazzling exobiology skills to work. Hot date with some cold bodies.”
“You’re an incredible jerk, you know?” She left the box for him to stash. As she headed to the science section, she slammed the door, wishing his private parts had been in the way. That would have taught him to stomp on her bandwagon.
Chapter 2
Heading across the street to the morgue to work with a local coroner, Sonya Astrid, a doctor who specialized in exo-autopsies, Kylie dismissed her confrontation with Jaco. Perhaps she should have challenged him, but the only purpose it might have served was to cuddle her wounded ego. More important was the solution of the mystery lizard women.
Maybe he was jealous that her scientific training gave her an upper hand in the investigation, unlike his business administration degree. This case gave her an opportunity to shine. She’d studied very hard at the academy, graduating third in her class despite her father’s efforts to keep her out of SIRT. He’d have preferred her hostess his corporate parties like her sister or her mother.
But he wouldn’t get what he wanted this time. Even if it meant spending all day with her hands buried in stinking, half-preserved entrails.
She entered the morgue building, the distinctive smells not much disguised by the heavy balsam-scented cleaning fluids used by the janitorial staff. Her footsteps echoed down the empty white halls. Usually by mid-morning, the place was crowded with medical students and others hoping to catch a glimpse of something with a “creepy” factor, but no one hung around today. When she arrived at Dr. Astrid’s lab, the entire observation gallery over her table was filled. People packed in three deep to watch the dissection of the lizard women.
Great.
Kylie changed into worn blue scrubs and hung her clothing in the staff locker room. She also switched her boots for a pair of cheap sneakers. More than one autopsy had included suddenly erupting innards launched at her shoes.
As she was about to grab a yellow scrub cap, she saw a memo from Astrid indicating no one should enter the quarantined rooms unless they were in a biosuit. NO EXCEPTIONS. Made sense, especially until they discovered the source of the metamorphosis. The suit pulled at her clothing and stretched around her elbows,