Dead World 2, page 9
The desert sand blurred in her peripheral, swirling into a mix of tan and red. The temperature was already on the rise and it would turn into a scorcher by midday.
The road stretched on for miles. Red stared out the window at the endless wasteland, letting it shift before her eyes. The knot in her stomach had grown to the size of a laser cannon blast. What were the chances that a body would be found in the same area she trained in?
Sure, she trained there every night and knew the place like the back of her hand. And yes, she'd dreamed about the site before, but she hadn't dreamed about it last night.
She reached the nearest ridge and pulled over to the side of the road, cutting the engine on the hydrogen car. According to the coordinates, this was where the body would be found.
Red climbed out of the vehicle and grabbed her canteen. It didn't take long to scale the small hill. From the rise, she could see the valley below. She stared at the spot in the distance where she'd been standing last night when the change refused to embrace her. It was at least a half-mile away from her current location.
She recalled the lightning she’d spotted in the distance. Despite its appearance, a storm hadn’t manifested. Now Red wondered if it had been a weather phenomenon at all. Maybe what she’d saw was a muzzle flash.
The body was lying on the ground seventy-five feet from the boulders. Red slipped her laser pistol out of her holster and ducked behind a nearby rock. She pulled out her binoculars and scanned the hills.
There didn't appear to be any movement, but that didn't mean anything. She hit a button on the side of the viewer and the heat-sensing mechanism kicked in. The only thing she was able to pick up was the heat in the rocks. That was good. Maybe the death had been by natural causes or exposure.
Red kept that positive thought in mind as she walked over to where the body lay. The dark-haired corpse was facedown, but she could tell it was a man from his size. A rumpled brown suit draped his outstretched limbs.
Something about him seemed familiar, even though she couldn't see his face. Red moved in for a closer look, scanning the area for DNA traces as she went. Arterial spray covered a ten-foot radius.
At least he went fast, she thought.
Red took out a drop of glove seal from the pouch on her holster and put it on her hands. Ten seconds later, her hands were protected with a thin polymer that would allow her to touch the body without leaving trace behind.
At first glance, his injuries appeared to be from a gun. But not any gun she was familiar with. The wound wasn’t cauterized. If he’d been hit with a laser blast, it would’ve been. Even with death staring her in the face, Red was relieved. This was a normal murder. It had nothing to do with her or the Others.
Not that it made a lot of difference to the victim, but it made her job easier. She could turn the case over to the International Police Tactical Team.
The scanner in her hand beeped. Red frowned and looked at the screen. There had to be a mistake. She looked around mentally retracing her steps. She hadn't touched the body until her hands were sealed. Red turned the scanner off and restarted it. She did another slow sweep of the area, but came up with the same reading.
Why was her DNA on the body? Who was this victim?
Red went against procedure and turned the man over. An ugly slash bisected his pale throat. She grimaced. Thanks to the dirt he'd fallen in, dried blood caked the wound. His eyes had clouded, turning milky from death’s descent. And his body was already starting to desiccate in the hot desert air.
She was lucky the predators hadn't gotten to him. If they had, cause of death would've been difficult to determine. She reached down to open his mouth and a cockroach crawled out from between his lips. Red shrieked and jerked back.
"Damn, I hate those things." She toed it away with her boot.
Red took a shot of the victim's face with her navcom. She looked at the image to make sure it was clear. He seemed familiar. She glanced at the man’s face. Where had she seen him before?
She stepped closer to get a better look. Recognition struck. "Oh no." Red retreated a few feet away. It was the man from the food dispensing station. The one who'd hassled her yesterday.
No, no, no, this couldn't be happening.
Her lungs squeezed, cutting off her breath. She looked around as panic set in. For a split second, Red considered hiding the body. It wouldn't take much effort. She could slip it between the boulders and dispose of it later. She could say it had been a false report. The Nurians would never know. But she would.
Red had spent her life upholding the law. She wasn’t about to break it now. She had nothing to do with this man’s death. He’d been shot. Her gaze was drawn to the wound in his neck.
She thought about the claw she could produce. It was sharp. Razor sharp. Certainly sharp enough to cause that kind of injury. And from its appearance, the pattern was consistent. A claw or a knife could’ve caused the cut. Maybe even teeth. Was the blood spray from the neck wound or the gunshot? Did it really matter?
Her stomach lurched. She was going to be sick.
How would she convince Maggie that she wasn't involved? Heck, how would she convince the people of Nuria when she wasn't entirely convinced herself?
They already distrusted her. What would they do when a body was hauled back to town? Red knew she hadn't shot the man. Was absolutely certain. But the other wound...
This was bad. Really bad.
Before she could decide her next move, Jim Thornton arrived on scene and sealed her fate.
11
From a distance, Nuria looked quaint and historic. It wasn't until people neared the town that they noticed the broken windows and the boarded-up businesses that made up the outskirts.
Red ignored all that as she drove straight to the dissecting lab. Jim would have the body laid out on a stainless steel gurney by now, ready to be examined.
The dissecting lab was located five blocks from the center of town and a block away from the sheriff's station. The concrete-and-lead-lined building didn't look like much from the outside, but it was the most efficient dissecting and recycling center in the southwest quadrant.
Disinfectant saturated the air as Red strolled into the lab. Stainless steel gurneys dotted the room. Lights hung above each gurney, illuminating the dismembered bodies. Cabinets lined one wall, while disposal chutes took up another. Large drains pocked the floor, ready to catch fluids from the dissecting process.
Nothing was wasted on the dead world. Humans made up seventy percent of the liquid mulch used for growing plants in hydroponic chambers. In the end, everyone got juiced.
Burials were considered antiquated and had been done away with years ago. On a planet where human and animal survival hinged on the ability to recycle, burials were wasteful. Mourning the dead occurred behind closed doors, not over a hole in the ground.
Red grabbed protective gloves and an apron. She didn't bother with the headgear, since she had no intention of standing near the table when Jim started cutting. The scent of rot hit her as she neared the gurney. It seemed strong despite the disinfectant strangling the air.
Jim looked up as she finished putting on the protective clothing. His brown eyes exuded compassion and concern. "I've just started my initial examination. How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," Red said.
Jim arched a brow. "Really?"
So he was back to being her friend. At least for a little while. Red sighed. "No, and this isn't going to help my situation." She nodded to the body. "I'll have to notify IPTT."
"Actually, you won't." He paused, the laser cutter in his hand poised above the dead man's bare chest.
"I can't let a body go unreported," Red said. She'd like to, but she knew in her heart that she wouldn't.
"You can with this one." He pointed at the body. "From what I can tell, he's an Unknown," Jim said. "He doesn't have a chip and there are no signs that one has been removed. His prints aren't on file. Neither is his DNA. As far as the republics are concerned, he doesn't exist."
That didn't make any sense. Why would an Unknown stroll into town? They avoided anyplace that could identify them as unregistered.
Red stared at the man on the table. "Him being an Unknown helps, but we have another problem."
"What?" Jim looked at the dead man as if he'd somehow missed something in his initial exam.
"This is the man who hassled me yesterday at the food dispensing station," she said.
Jim's brows furrowed over his thick glasses. "I heard about that. News travels fast. Wasn't he shouting something about you abandoning him?"
Red snorted. "Yeah, which is a neat trick, considering I've never laid eyes on the guy."
"Why would an Unknown do that?" Jim wiped a beefy hand on his dissecting apron.
“That wouldn’t without incentive,” she said.
"You sure that you've never seen him before?" he asked.
Not you, too, Red thought.
Something in his expression changed. It was so subtle that Red almost missed it. He was still the same old Jim Thornton, but now there was suspicion in his gaze. So much for being her friend.
"Have anything else to tell me about the body? Anything that would point to the individual responsible?" she asked, ignoring Jim's question. She'd already given him her answer. If he didn't believe her, then that was his problem.
Jim coughed. "Just making small talk."
"Well don't," Red snapped.
His chin dropped a notch, whether in disappointment or anger, Red couldn't tell and didn't care. She had a job to do. The sooner she had the answers she needed, the sooner she could get back to work.
"As you wish," Jim said. "The man was shot in the chest from at least a couple hundred yards away. The pattern looks like a rifle blast."
“I thought so, too, but I couldn’t identify it,” she said.
“That’s because it’s rare,” he said. “I’d say it came from a twentieth century antique.”
"Sniper?" Not many people could make that kind of shot. A handful at best.
"Perhaps, but the killer’s marksmanship is not the most important issue." Jim fiddled with his glasses, before pulling them off to clean them. "The only people who own weapons capable of doing this are International Police Tactical Team members or ex-IPTT members. Didn't you bring some of your weapons with you when you left IPTT?"
"Yes, and they're all accounted for—including the pistol Morgan gave me." She patted the gun on her hip. "I don’t own any antiques. Couldn’t begin to afford one, so if you're going to accuse me of something, then just come right out and do it. Otherwise, stop wasting my time."
He colored. "I was simply stating my medical determination."
"You've stated it. Now move on." Red leaned over the body on the gurney. "Is there anything else that stands out about this killing?" she asked.
"Besides the fact he was in town asking after you?" he retorted.
"Yeah, other than that" Red's lips thinned. "Have you seen any other strangers in town?"
Jim scratched his head. "Well, there are a lot of new recruits floating about I don't know all their faces," he said.
Red thought about the interviews she'd conducted. None of the men had sniper skills in their background other than possibly Demery Wilson, but he didn't seem a likely candidate for this kill. He and the other recruits hadn't been aware of the altercation at the food dispensing station. Only Nurians had been present when she drew her weapon on the Unknown. Were they dealing with someone on the inside again?
"I don't think any of the new recruits are involved, but I'll look into it," Red said.
"Whoever killed him wanted to ensure he was dead." Jim twisted the corpse's neck around to get a better look at the cut. "They slashed his throat to be sure."
So he'd been shot first. That didn't mean she hadn't sliced his throat but at least she didn't kill him. Red hid her relief. "Seems like overkill."
Jim nodded in agreement. "Or they were trying to send a message,” he said. “I've detected no foreign DNA besides your own. How did it get on the body?" He kept the question neutral, but Red didn't miss the speculation in his brown eyes.
"He grabbed me in the food dispensing station yesterday. I shoved my pistol into his ribs. It must have occurred then." "Seems like an awful lot of trouble for a stranger to go through. Especially an Unknown. He took a chance by coming into town."
"I agree," she said. “So there had to be a reason. I’m just not seeing it yet.”
"What did he have to gain?" Jim asked.
"No idea," Red said. "But I intend to find out."
He stared at her. "You know I have to put this in my report"
"I know." Her name coming up in any kind of official death report would dampen her chances of getting hired at the sheriff's station.
Red pulled off her gloves and tossed them into a nearby recycling bin, along with her apron. "I'm going to head back to the station to file an incident report. Let me know when you've finished with your examination. At this point, even minor details may be able to tell us what he was doing out there and who would want him dead."
She'd certainly wanted him to get the hell out of town, but Red hadn't wanted the man dead. Obviously, there had to be someone out there who did. If they were still in town, she'd find them.
Red strode out of the dissecting lab. If this guy had been a regular Unknown, then the case would be open and shut. The fact that he'd ventured into town and sought her out meant there was more behind his appearance than wandering into civilization. He'd been sent here, and there was only one person she could think of who'd do such a thing, Roark Montgomery. The question was, why? What did he have to gain?
From the looks Red got on the way to the sheriff’s station, word had already spread about the body. Jim had probably contacted Maggie on his way into town. Nuria would be buzzing by this evening. She looked straight ahead and ignored the townspeople's fearful gazes.
She heard her name as she neared the front door of the station. Red stopped to listen.
"Do you think she did it?" someone said.
"Seems likely," Maggie answered.
"Doesn't make sense," Juan Sanchez interjected.
What was he doing back so early? They should still be out in the valley training. Had someone ordered them to return without her permission?
Maggie cleared her throat. "You aren't a member of this sheriff's station and you aren't a tactical team member yet. Just because you uncovered sabotage at the training area doesn't mean you know anything about crime solving."
Sabotage? What was happening?
"I may not be versed in investigative techniques, but I do know a little something about motive. People have to have a reason for killing," he said. "A man showing up and causing trouble isn't enough."
"You weren't there when he confronted her," Maggie countered. "Word is he made a big scene at the food dispensing station. Practically begged her to come back to him. And how does she repay him? By shooting him in the chest and cutting his throat. I'm telling you, she and her wolf are out of control. She's going to bring death to us all."
Red's heart sank. They thought she was a murderer. She'd killed plenty of people, so to a certain degree that was true, but she hadn't murdered this man.
It wouldn't be the first time Roark had someone else doing his dirty work. Like it or not, she had to investigate.
Red had a headache from listening to the speculation circling the office. There were many, many theories and very few facts. How could she fight this and expect to win? The talk continued on and on. Finally, she'd had enough. She walked into the sheriff's station and the conversation stopped cold. "Don't quit on my account," she said. "It was just starting to get interesting."
The recruits stood upon her approach. "Reporting problems at the training facility, Commander," Juan said.
"I heard. I'll deal with the sabotage later. I'm sure you've all been apprised of the latest situation," she said, looking at Maggie, who had the grace to turn away. "So I won't need to repeat it other than to say I plan to investigate this death aggressively. No one gets killed on my watch. Not even an Unknown." She glared around the room before meeting their wary gazes. "If you're ready to learn," she said, addressing the remaining five new recruits, "then I suggest you gear up. We'll be heading out into the desert in less than," Red glanced at her watch, "two minutes."
"Yes, ma'am," Juan said, saluting her before turning sharply and striding to the back of the station with Takeo, Jones, Olson, and Demery tight on his heels.
"Morgan, where are you when I need you?" she whispered.
Morgan stared down the massive corridor in the central building of the Santa Fe Cloning Laboratory. Hundreds of doors lined the walls, each one secured and labeled in a language comprehensible to scientists alone. He'd already searched two outlying buildings and come up empty. How in the world was he going to find Sarah and Joshua?
He stepped forward and stood at attention, something he hadn't done since his days in the old military. The position felt odd, but strangely familiar. "Morgan Hunter reporting for duty, sir."
A squat man with a wide forehead turned his green gaze on Morgan. Rows of monitors surrounded him in a cocoon of static images. He sat in the center, pressing buttons rapid fire. Morgan couldn't tell what the buttons did from his vantage point, but the man seemed happy with what he saw.
"You the new guy?" he asked, using his flat tongue to flick at the debris stuck in his yellowed teeth from his last meal.
Morgan straightened and stood a little taller. "Yes, sir." He tugged his uniform into place.
"Heard all about you. Nice to finally meet you." The man gave him a leisurely perusal that caused the hair on the back of Morgan's neck to stand on end.
He'd received that kind of look from women on several occasions, but never a man. The man's gaze followed the line of his body back up to his face, his interest clear.
Morgan wasn't sure how to react so he stood stock still and kept his expression neutral. Apparently, that wasn't the response the man was hoping for because he dropped his gaze.
