Courting Death by Carol Stephenson Page B

revulsion as I considered the little attic of horrors.
    “I don’t think this operation was sophisticated enough for vital organ removal.”
    Good news, bad news. I hadn’t found the source of Rebecca’s mutilation yet. Without a full autopsy the state would have a hard time proving without a reasonable doubt that Claire Whitman killed her baby. However, forensics-wise, I would have an equally tough time proving her innocence. It wouldn’t be the first time a person was tried and convicted on circumstantial evidence.
    On the plus side, the media would be so busy having a hey-day over this ghoulish chamber that it might not pick up the story behind one sad little victim.
    I crossed to the stairs. “I’ve seen enough. I’ll wait outside by the car.”
    “I’ll take you home.” Sam followed behind me. Downstairs I couldn’t drag the gloves and mask off quickly enough, and dumped them in a garbage bin in the storage room. He stripped his off as well.
    I drew in a deep breath but could still smell the death that clung to everything in the place.
    “I’m fine. What abominations happened here need your immediate attention. You’ll need to update the search warrant.”
    He scowled. “We already have a search warrant.”
    Anger boiled inside me, so hot and intense that I knew it had been simmering for a long time. I stabbed my index finger into his chest.
    “No, you don’t. You’re not screwing this investigation up by playing fast and loose with procedure like you did the Archer case. Tony probably got only a standard warrant for a possible homicide. Granted, your search of the premises led to the discovery of the attic so any evidence secured there could be safe from a challenge in court. However…”
    I made to give him another jab, and he wrapped his hands around mine.
    “Are you ever going to forgive me? It’s been over a year, Red. Mistakes happened. You know that. Especially in the heat of an investigation or trial…” His voice trailed off and chagrin flared in his gaze.
    I pulled my hand free and wrapped my arms around my middle. “Yes, errors certainly do occur during a trial. And I wasn’t good enough to overcome them. My mistake let a monster walk.”
    I tilted my head toward the ceiling. “There’s a new monster in town, and its victims were defenseless and could number in the thousands. Get a new search warrant for that room.”
    Without waiting for his answer, I walked down the hallway and didn’t stop until I was outside and as far away in the parking lot as I could get. Finally, I allowed the sickness roiling around inside me to follow its natural course and puked my brains out.
    At some point during the racking heaves I became aware of Sam rubbing my back, but I was too far gone to care that he was seeing me in such a vulnerable state. Gradually, the spasms lessened and then stopped.
    “Here you go.” Sam offered me a folded red bandana and a bottle of water.
    I opened the bottle, then swallowed and spit until the burning, acrid taste was gone from my mouth.
    “Thanks.” I swiped the bandana across my face. “I’ll wash it and return it to you.”
    He rolled his eyes. “Toss it. I bought it at the dollar store.” Cocking his head, he studied me. “You know, you don’t always have to be so strong. The whole world won’t crash and burn if you’re human.”
    I crumpled the bandana. “Funny. Puking my guts out in front of you ranks right up there on my vulnerability chart.”
    Sam placed his hands on my shoulders. “Nicole, don’t worry. I’ll get the warrant.”
    I lifted a hand to cover his. “You have to stop this operation.”
    “Come on, let me get you home so I can get back in there.”
    As we returned to his car, I thought about a conversation I’d once had with Carling. On two occasions she had barely escaped death. She had described the sensation of being split in two.
    Certainly enough had been written about near death experiences, the separation of body and soul