Twice Cursed Page 7

  ***

  The elevator doors slid closed, and Martinez pushed the button for the ground floor. He looked straight ahead at nothing, though the weight of Lily’s stare was heavy and intent.

  “How did you know each victim had been drained dry?”

  Martinez’s head whipped around, and his mouth fell open. She couldn’t have stunned him more if she suddenly grew scales and swallowed a live rat. Still, she stood unflinching, with her arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes fixed on his, almost daring him to lie.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lily exhaled. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, and don’t tell me your theory was just an educated guess. You knew. I saw your thoughts,” she said, her finger jabbing the air between them.

  In a heartbeat, she had gone from teamwork cheerleader to a dagger-eyed complainant. He hadn’t said a word to anyone about what he had sensed, and he certainly hadn’t included it in the police report. What was her game?

  His guard way up, Martinez pressed his lips together, collecting himself before he started an all-out war. “First off, don’t point your finger at me. It’s rude, and I don’t appreciate it. Secondly, lose the accusatory attitude or this conversation is over. Shaw may doubt your specialized set of talents, but that doesn’t mean I share his skepticism. I asked what I could do to help. Remember? He’s the one who wanted to keep things hush-hush until he was satisfied you weren’t some kind of a kook. I’ll be the first to admit there’s more to this than what we’re seeing, so why don’t you just back the hell off?”

  Now it was his turn to stare her down. Angry, he shrugged into his overcoat, stretching out the tension in his shoulders and neck. Neither said a word as the elevator opened onto the main lobby.

  He never lost his cool, not even when he dealt with the rat squad over at Internal Affairs. So why was he allowing this woman to get under his skin? The chief wanted them to work together, so he’d play nice with the psychic, even if it meant biting his tongue until he tasted blood.

  “Since I’ve been appointed the designated driver, I suggest we take one car. Traffic is a mess down here no matter what time day, and parking is bound to be an issue. My car is in the municipal lot next door, unless you’d prefer to follow me over. The D.O.A.s for this case are being held at the morgue at Bellevue Hospital.”

  Lily shook her head. “No, it’ll be easier if I go with you than take my own car. I can always catch a cab home from there if we’re not needed back this way. If you’ll excuse me, I just need to make a quick call.” She walked away, already scrolling through the numbers on her cell phone before Martinez could object.

  He watched her expression change from resolute, to irritated, to sarcastic and back again, before she hung up and walked back toward him. Great. She was a veritable mood swing acrobat. Did Phillips say psychic or psycho? Play nice…you said you’d play nice.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  The two walked in silence across the frozen sidewalk, taking the outside elevator to the second level of the parking garage.

  Rows of patrol cars and other official vehicles were parked on a diagonal across from the elevators. “This way,” Martinez said, gesturing toward the far corner, and the jet-black Chevy Camaro parked along the wall. A telltale chirp echoed through the concrete parking structure as he unlocked the doors. “Get in.”

  Lily buckled her seatbelt as he put the car in gear and backed out of the space. “I’m sorry, Detective. I apologize for being so abrupt. It’s just, images come unbidden sometimes, and when you handed me the file…”

  She stopped, and Martinez glanced over to her in the passenger seat.

  “It’s okay…I get it. And it’s Ryan.”

  “Ryan?”

  “My first name. When we’re alone, we can forego departmental formalities, since you’re not exactly personnel,” he said, as they headed down the exit ramp and out of the parking garage.

  “All right. Will you answer my question then, Ryan? How did you know about the victims?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea how I know what I know,” he said, leaning over the steering wheel, watching for an opportunity to merge into traffic.

  Lily raised an eyebrow. “None?”

  “Nope. I just know. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Maybe that means I’m a bit of a psychic too,” he answered, pulling out into the street.

  Her expression soured again. “Detective Sergeant Shaw will be so impressed. I’ll have to remember to put in a good word for you with special services.”

  “Are you always this pleasant to work with, or is it just me?”

  Lily exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this prickly. It’s just I don’t appreciate having to work against a stacked deck. Phillips’s word should have been enough, if you know what I mean.” She paused. “It’s hard enough doing what I do without having to deal with attitude, as well as red tape.”

  He smiled. “Understood. But let’s remember who’s on which team, okay? That way we keep friendly fire to a minimum. This case has thrown everyone for a loop, and I for one hope you’re able to shed some light on what’s happened. You talked about needing a jumping off point. We have dead bodies and a cold crime scene. That’s it. Anything you can give us—location, descriptions of faces, vehicles, anything— it would help a lot.”

  “I’ll certainly do what I can.”

  Martinez glanced at the petite honey blonde in his passenger seat, watching again as her face showed everything. For a psychic and a NYPD profiler, she certainly wore her emotions on her sleeve. Not that it mattered much.

  The buzz around the department said she was formidable, and not just on the paranormal side. She had the reputation for being deadly. A triple threat: Smart, beautiful and as good with a gun as she was with the weird shit nobody wanted to touch.

  He inhaled. God she smelled good.

  “Have you always been psychic?”

  “No. I woke up one morning after my parents died and voilà. People said my ability was a gift that God had given me, a way to still talk to them. But I never could. My talents never ran as far as that until recently.”

  He looked directly at her. “What do you mean? Like channeling the dead?”

  “Yes and no. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened to my partner. She was killed quite suddenly, and for a little while, I was able to see and talk to her.”

  “No shit! What about now?”

  “No. She moved on, went into the light, or wherever it is spirits go. Since then, nothing. Not that I’m upset about it or anything. The last thing I need is for my life to turn into the movie Ghost Town.”

  “Sounds like it could be pretty cool. Talking to stiffs would certainly make my job a lot easier.”

  Lily smirked. “Yeah. Try living it sometime.”

  Martinez chuckled, pulling the car up to a red light. He glanced sideways, but rather than finding the amused sarcasm he expected, Lily’s expression was pensive, and he wondered what shadows stirred behind her beautiful eyes.

  “I just get impressions, you know, strange smells and such. I hear things too, faint sound too low for most people to perceive. But even that small hint of the unusual has more than a few people freaked out, and believe me, I’ve caught flack about it,” he added, pressing a bit.

  He watched her face, surprised at the empathy he saw there. So the hard-ass paranormal investigator understood what it felt like to wear a label. No big surprise there, all things considered.

  “So, Phillips mentioned you’re pretty handy with a gun.”

  “And reading between the lines. I’d bet you’re dying to ask why and how, right?”

  “Very perceptive. But since you brought it up…” he chuckled. “Your level of skill isn’t exactly commonplace, especially for a woman, not unless you’re a covert Special Ops Agent.”

  She smiled. “No, nothing as glamorous as that. My parents died when I was ten. Af
ter that, my best friend’s family took me in and raised me. My foster dad was a real outdoorsman. Hunting, fishing, camping, you name it—and the rougher the conditions, the better. He was the original Survivorman.

  “He believed girls should know how to protect themselves, but Terry—she wasn’t really into the whole Annie Oakley thing. I loved it, though. He taught me how to shoot—guns, rifles, bows and arrows—the crossbow was a favorite of his. And he taught me to be wicked-quick with a hunting knife, too.”

  Ryan caught himself staring at her, watching her mouth as she spoke. It was warm in the car, and she had unbuttoned her coat. His gaze traveled from her face and the curve of her jaw, down to where her cleavage peeked out from the beneath the décolleté of her blouse. Her chest rose with each breath, her full breasts unconsciously pushing against the thin fabric. From nowhere, his fingers itched to sample the creamy silk of her skin, and an image of her straddling him, her back arched and breasts heaving flashed into his mind. He felt himself grow hard. He blinked, giving his head a hard shake. What the fuck…

  “You okay?” Lily reached out, touching his forearm.

  His cock jerked at the feel of her soft fingers, and heat rushed into his groin. An almost uncontrollable urge to grab her and force her into the backseat, to take her, violently, with or without consent washed over him. He yanked his arm away, causing the car to swerve in traffic to the blare of car horns and expletives from other drivers.

  “Stay out of my head, Saburi. You were brought in to investigate the stiffs, not me.” A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. Never had he felt such a callous rush where women were concerned.

  Lily pressed her lips together. “Saburi? What happened to first name basis? I thought we were on the same page here. And just for the record, I don’t trespass in people’s minds just for the hell of it. You looked freaked out for a second, that’s all.”

  “I’m fine.” His words were clipped and tight, and he ran the back of his hand across his forehead, as much to clear his internal tension as clear away his sweat. She unnerved him, and for more reasons than he cared to admit. Thank God, irritation had trumped her powers of perception for the moment, and she sat with her arms crossed, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath, but kept his eyes trained on the traffic. “We are on the same page. However, if you want us to stay that way, I suggest you keep those antennae of yours pointed away from me.”

  A confused frown spread across Lily’s brow. “Have it your way…” She stopped and looked over at him. Ryan tensed. If she got even a sniff of his little fantasy, it was game over.

  Pokerfaced, he turned to meet her gaze.

  “Detective, whatever it was you sensed, you’re going to have to share it with me at some point,” she said softly.

  Again, her expression didn’t match what he expected, and it wasn’t lost on him that she’d caught herself, dialing it down on the boss lady bit. She acted as if this was routine, same shit different day, but maybe it wasn’t, and her over the top attitude was just a cover. He unclenched his jaw and exhaled quietly. Either way, it didn’t matter. He was here to observe and to make sure she played by the rules.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I get touchy when it comes to talking about things I sense on the job. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  “I do. Believe me, you’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been queen of the freaks for more years than I care to count, not that I think you’re a freak or anything.”

  He gave her half a smile. “No harm, no foul. But let’s take this step-by-step, okay? We still need to get through your initial investigation at the morgue. How about we make that our jumping off point into the world of weird, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  His police radio chirped, and dispatch interrupted in what sounded like a rush of crackling static. Ryan squeezed the side button on his radio. “Ten-four,” he answered.

  “What was that?”

  He shrugged. “Central just confirmed with the deputy M.E.”

  “Confirmed what?”

  “Our meeting with him at the morgue.”

  She leaned back in her seat, and turned to face him. “Now? But we’re almost there. What if he wasn’t around to confirm our meeting? Don’t they care about wasting taxpayer money, not to mention our time?”

  He grinned. “And how long did you say you’ve been away?”

  She exhaled, shaking her head. “Too long.”

  Chapter Four

  ***

  They parked on the street outside Bellevue Hospital and got out of the car. The morgue was located in a separate building, adjacent to the main hospital. Martinez flashed his badge at the entrance, and reception buzzed them in immediately. He knew the way like the back of his own hand, and led Lily through a set of double doors and down the back corridor toward a set of elevators marked ‘employees only’.

  The facility was situated on the lower level, and the elevator doors opened onto a stark white hallway. “This is still a police matter, so let me do the talking, okay?” he asked, stepping aside to let Lily pass. “Once we’re in, you can take over from there.”

  The fluorescent lights added to the already sterile, empty feel of the place, and as they walked, the sound of their footsteps echoed in the corridor. Martinez stopped just outside another set of double doors.

  “Just so you know, the bodies were tagged and bagged at the scene, but the deputy M.E. should have pulled some from cold storage for us to start with,” Martinez said with his hand on one of the doors. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Lily said, trying to squash the creepy feeling edging its way up her spine.

  Martinez knocked before pushing the doors open. The two entered and stood, waiting just inside. The facility was a large rectangular shaped configuration, opening directly into an area housing row after row of mortuary-style refrigerated units. Forensic examination tables lined one side of the room, each compartmentalized into individual operating suites, complete with surgical lights and attached to stainless steel counters, together with sinks and hoses.

  Microscopes and medieval looking instruments, skull saws and rib crackers, gleamed in the overhead lights next to what looked to be deli slicing machines and grocery scales.

  Lily swallowed hard against the sick, Sweeney Todd-like feeling that lurched in her stomach.

  A man in a bloodstained lab coat looked up from behind one of the stainless steel examination tables. “May I help you?” he asked, his hand resting on top of a body half covered with a blue sheet.

  “Dr. Weaver?”

  The man nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Detective Martinez. Homicide,” he answered, flashing the man his badge. “This is Lily Saburi. Special Services. I believe Detective Sergeant Shaw called to let you know we were coming.”

  “Yes. Right this way.” He led them to the far end of the refrigerated units. Lily shot Martinez a questioning look, but he ignored it.

  The deputy M.E. swept his hand toward the stacked squares at the end of the row. “The drawers pertaining to your case have been marked with post-its. Please take your time, but I ask that you don’t disturb the bodies or remove them from the cadaver trays. I have to head to pathology, but I’ll be back shortly.”

  Martinez nodded. “No problem.”

  The doctor headed back toward the double doors where they had first come in, and Martinez looked at Lily. “Ladies choice,” he said with a sideways nod toward storage units.

  Lily took a cleansing breath to ground herself and center her focus. The underlying smell of disinfectant stung the inside of her nose, and her stomach flip-flopped as memories from the morgue in Portland where they prepared Terry’s body to ship back to New York, rushed back.

  Holding her breath, she swallowed, forcing herself to focus. “That one,” Lily said, pointing toward the first drawer on the bottom left.

  Martinez pushed the lever down and slowly pulled open the square, stainless steel doo
r. Cold air drifted out from the opening, along with a deep sense of foreboding. The cadaver tray slid out from the refrigerated unit without a sound, a narrow gurney on drawer glides. Lily shivered. The body was covered with the same blue sheet they’d seen on the one prepared for autopsy across the room.

  He pulled the sheet back, exposing the victim. The body was that of a young man, no more than eighteen or twenty years old. Even with the medical examiner’s handiwork, it was easy to see his throat and his chest had been ripped open prior to death. The typical “Y” incision used in autopsies had navigated through the ravaged and missing flesh. Martinez whistled low. “Wow. This one is definitely 3D,” Martinez said, wiping his hands on his pants. “Definitely Done Dancing.”

  “Oh, God.” Lily’s hand went to her mouth, her stomach turning again. Her vision swam as a wave of lightheadedness gripped her, and she clutched onto Martinez’s arm for support.

  “Some NYPD Profiler you are if can’t stand the sight of a stiff,” he joked, steadying her on her feet.

  Lily swallowed hard. “It’s not that,” she said shooting him a dirty look between gulps. “Can’t you sense it? It’s absolute terror. Christ in heaven, it’s practically radiating from the body!”

  She dragged in a deep breath and placed her hand on the victim’s forehead. Immediately, images flooded Lily’s mind. He’d been out for a good time with friends. Rich boys slumming it, out trolling for drugs and illicit fun.

  “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…”

  Lily jerked her hand back, her eyes losing focus. “What?” She blinked, turning her perplexed gaze toward Martinez. “Did you say something?”

  He shook his head. “No, why?”

  She frowned, peering at him from across her shoulder. Maybe her brain was on overload and it was nothing more than a leftover auditory impression. Or not…

  Lily froze. “Oh, God,” she muttered and turned slowly back around toward the body.

  “What? What is it?” Martinez asked, but Lily didn’t answer. She kept her eyes trained dead ahead.