McCarthy reached forward and gently felt along the victim’s sternum. “Valentine cuts through the bone. This sternum appears intact.”
“No,” Mia repeated, breathing easier. “This isn’t Valentine.”
“Are you saying we have a copycat?” Gray said.
“I didn’t say that, but you can’t ignore the similarities. Also—” she gestured to the gaping wounds on the victim’s palms “—Valentine restrains his victims. We’ve never found defensive wounds.”
Gray removed his sunglasses and blinked against the glare. Mia watched him out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to be too obvious. He looked as if he were carved out of marble, but behind his dark eyes was a softness. She’d always believed the eyes were the window to the soul, and she wondered what he was hiding behind that wall he’d constructed to protect himself.
He knelt beside the body, his brow tense with concentration. “Valentine may have screwed up this time,” he said. “Maybe she broke free of the restraints.”
“But there are no ligature marks on her wrist,” noted Dr. McCarthy. “There’s no evidence she was ever restrained in the first place.”
“The media doesn’t know about the bonds or the missing heart,” Mia said. “A copycat wouldn’t know, either.”
“Hey, wait a second.” Dr. McCarthy pressed a gloved hand to the victim’s side. “Since when does Valentine carry a gun?”
Mia’s pulse quickened, and she and Gray rushed to the ME’s side as he probed his index finger against the stiff edges of a hole in the victim’s shirt. “I didn’t notice it before with all of the blood on the shirt, but this is a bullet hole.” He leaned closer and frowned. “Not much blood. She may have been shot postmortem.”
“Overkill.” A shiver swept up Mia’s spine. “Why would he shoot a corpse?”
“Maybe he didn’t trust that the knife would work?” Dr. McCarthy offered.
“No.” This time it was Gray who spoke. He glanced at Mia before placing his sunglasses back on his face. “With all of those knife wounds? He knew she was dead.”
He straightened and turned his back to them, staring out over the Charles. After a moment, he turned back. “I agree with Dr. Perez. This isn’t Valentine.”
“Wow, you’re listening to me. I’m flattered.” She gave a small smile.
“Don’t be flattered,” he replied flatly. “I listen to evidence.”
Her shoulders tightened. Arrogant jerk. She’d fought hard to be taken seriously by the police officers she’d worked with, and she’d succeeded by producing real results. It had been years since anyone had treated her with such hostility, and Mia tamped down the irritation surging in her chest. This was her reward for trying to be personable.
“A copycat.” Gray cursed under his breath. “This is the last thing I need.”
“Lieutenant!” an officer called from farther down the path. “Any chance a gun was involved?” He held up a handgun with a gloved hand. “We just found this in the grass here.”
Gray’s face darkened. “What’s the caliber?”
The officer turned the gun. “Looks like a .32. White handle. Looks expensive.”
Gray and Mia exchanged a quick glance. “Yeah,” said Gray. “Bag it.”
Mia tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and swept the back of her hand across her brow. Her lungs were heavy from the thick summer air, and she was already imagining how good it might feel to plunge into the cold water of the river. Thinking and doing were completely different things, though. She didn’t normally like to bathe with E. coli. “I think my five minutes are up. Unless you want me to stick around and help you find more evidence for you to listen to.”
She didn’t expect him to flinch, and he didn’t disappoint her. “I’m a man of my word. I said five minutes, and I meant it.”
She shrugged. “Then I guess I’m off. Nice to see you, Dr. McCarthy. And maybe I’ll see you around, Lieutenant.”
“Nice to see you, Mia,” said Dr. McCarthy.
Gray grunted an indecipherable response, then added, “Don’t forget your monkey tea.”
A simple “thank you” would have sufficed. She turned with a sigh and started walking toward the cement steps. “It’s monkey-picked oolong,” she muttered under her breath as she retrieved her mug. She placed one foot on the landing before pausing and turning back toward Gray. “You have my card, Lieutenant,” she said.
“Yes.” He didn’t bother looking up from whatever object on the ground was holding his attention.
Mia nodded. “Good.”
She paused when she heard the quick successive clicks of a camera. Up at the top of the embankment, reporters were waiting for her. Mia turned her back to them. “Hey, Lieutenant?”
He glanced in her direction. “Yes?”
“You’ll want to be careful what you say to them.” She pointed to the media. “Valentine won’t take kindly to hearing about a copycat.”
She proceeded away from the scene and ignored the reporters who nearly tackled her when she reached street level. By then uneasiness had settled in her gut. She couldn’t place its origin. All she knew was that she couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad might have just happened, and that she’d failed to recognize it.
Mia couldn’t hide in the bathroom stall forever. She knew that. Someone would inevitably come looking for her, slipping beneath the stall door to find her perched on the back of the toilet like a queen on some perverse throne, her high heels wobbling on the seat, her fists clutching at the fabric of her gown to keep it from falling into the chemical-blue water.
Just the guest of honor having another anxiety attack. Nothing strange about that.
Thirty minutes until dinner. Mia propped her head up on the heel of her palms, resting her elbows on her knees, and tried not to think about the crowd. Her doctors assured her she was making progress and that her difficulty processing information wouldn’t last forever. Progress was slow. Tonight there would be swirls of colors and smells and noises that confused her senses, and she doubted she was equipped to manage this. Not yet.
Mia closed her eyes and focused on her breath, trying to resurrect the calm she’d felt on those few occasions she’d actually made it to yoga class. These days peace and solitude were indulgences that she could enjoy in only small doses before those around her became alarmed. The key was to find that sweet spot between enjoying much-needed isolation and triggering a minor manhunt. Everyone was always so concerned, and she found it exhausting. She winced when people spoke to her in ellipses. How are you holding up, Mia? You know, considering....
Was it any wonder she needed to hide?
Somewhere to the left, a toilet flushed. Mia opened her silver clutch to check her watch. The hotel ballroom was right down the hall. She could wait here for twenty-six more minutes and still have time to make the dinner.
A group of women came chattering into the restroom. It would be only a matter of time before someone curious fidgeted with the stall door, found it locked and started to wonder why she couldn’t see feet when she peered underneath. Time’s up.
Mia eased herself to the floor. She exited the stall and saw the