Dark Wings Descending by Lesley Davis Page A

frown gathering on her face. “I’m going to see if Dr. Alan can spare me a few minutes while he still has victim number three in his care.” As quickly as she had entered the office, Rafe turned back around and left. She headed down to the basement, where the precinct morgue resided. The pale gray walls were in stark contrast to the rest of the CPD, but Rafe relished the coolness and the muted lights that ran the length of the corridor. She pushed open the door to the morgue and was directed further down the halls by a woman pushing a gurney. The body underneath the drape seemed shapeless and nondescript, but Rafe couldn’t ignore the fact the white cloth covered yet another dead person to join the statistics that the city logged every month. She popped her head around a door and found Dr. Alan working away on a corpse.
    “Dr. Alan, have you got a moment, please?”
    The old man’s face lit up when Rafe entered his room. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you were down here, Detective, chasing up the details.” Dr. Alan grinned at her and waved her in. He gestured for her to put on a coverall so as not to get anything untoward on her suit. Stretched over the body between them, he fixed her with an intense stare, his eyes taking in her injuries with professional interest. “You took a mighty beating, and I know what you’re sporting is only half of what lies beneath. I saw his body, and I have to admit to you, Rafe, I’m surprised you didn’t end up on my table.”
    Rafe ran a hand over her face in a gesture that was becoming second nature to her, checking that she was still intact, assuring herself she was still alive. “To be honest, Doc, I thought I’d be toe tag material too.”
    He reached over the body and slapped Rafe gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad to have you back and in one piece. The place just isn’t the same without you. And now that the DDU is fully functional, you’re back where you belong. Which is why you’re down here? I presume to ask about the latest victim your backstabber left the city to mourn?”
    Rafe furtively glanced around the room before speaking in a hushed tone. “Actually, Doc, I want to ask about Marcus Armitage.”
    “The behemoth that nearly killed you? What do you want to hear? I’m sure you read my report.”
    Rafe’s indecision crippled her. How could she seriously ask the coroner the burning question that was lodged in her head? She grimaced and gathered up her courage. “Was there anything unusual about Marcus Armitage when you performed his autopsy?”
    “Other than the fact he was higher than three kites tied to a satellite orbiting Mars?” Dr. Alan shuffled over to his computer and, one key at a time, hen-pecked his way across the keyboard. “You know his tox screen. If it could be injected, swallowed, or snorted, it was in his system. He was grossly overweight, but I put that down to his being a quarterback who would rather snort a line than run down one.” He glanced up from his screen. “Anything you looking for in particular?”
    “Did he have any deformities?”
    Dr. Alan blinked owlishly at her. “Deformities? He had several healed-up broken bones from old football injuries.”
    Shaking her head, Rafe took the plunge. “Did he have any…” Her words failed her and she patted at her head.
    “Head injuries?”
    “Horns,” Rafe blurted out. “Did he have any horns?”
    The silence in the room was absolute. Dr. Alan stared at her, looked at his computer screen, then out of the corner of his eye he looked back at Rafe again. “What medication have they got you on, Rafe?”
    “Humor me, Doc, please. Did you find anything unusual on his X-rays?”
    “On his head?”
    Rafe shrugged. “On his head in this general area.” She patted to just above her temples.
    Dr. Alan gave her a measured look that made her almost regret bringing this conversation up. But he beckoned Rafe over to his screen and brought up the X-rays from Armitage’s