Wrongful Death by Sellers L. J

Author:Sellers, L. J. [Sellers, L. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, thriller
ISBN: 9781477872178
Amazon: B00NIXMCSO
Goodreads: 23744231
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2015-02-24T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Monday, November 24, 7:35 a.m.

The small, brightly lit room in the basement of the old hospital was more crowded than usual. Surgery 10, as it was called, was designed as a one-person space, not counting the giant stainless-steel drawers that held bodies. But the county had hired a pathologist, so now Rich Gunderson, the medical examiner, attended crime scenes and prepped the bodies that came in, while Rudolph Konrad, the pathologist, conducted the autopsy, with the ME assisting. Today, the district attorney was in attendance, impatiently bouncing on his feet in a charcoal pinstripe suit.

They all turned to Jackson when he came in. “You’re late.” Konrad, a baby-faced blond man in his early forties, had said that to him a few times over the years. The pathologist was on the right side of the table, gloved and ready to go. Gunderson was on the left, his eyes drooping. The ME had been through a crazy, busy weekend with multiple bodies to process.

“I’m sorry.” Jackson started to explain that he’d had a hectic morning with the kids, then changed his mind. This was not that kind of crowd. Konrad had never cracked a smile or a joke in his presence. Jackson pulled on a mask and gown—which was as much for his own protection as to guard against cross-contamination—and stepped up next to the DA at the foot of the table.

“Victor Slonecker, it’s good to see you.” He was never sure what to call the man. In the department, they used last names, but the DA’s office was more formal.

Slonecker nodded. “I can’t believe we’re dealing with one of our own this time.”

“We’re all stunned.”

“When is your next task force meeting?” the DA asked.

“Right after this, at ten.”

The pathologist cut in. “I’d like to get started.”

Jackson tuned out for the lengthy inch-by-inch inspection of Thompson’s skin. Seeing another officer naked on the gurney table was disturbing enough without focusing on his moles, scars, and body hair. All he needed for this one were the basics: weapon, angle of entry, size of perp. The DA vibrated beside him, and Jackson guessed he was working on something else in his head.

Konrad began to explore the wound in Thompson’s abdomen. He grabbed a tool and measured its length, width, and depth in several places, announcing the centimeters out loud for his recording. “An incised wound, made with a left-to-right slashing motion.”

The wound was also on the left side of Thompson’s body. “What is the killer’s dominant hand?” Jackson asked.

“Right,” Gunderson responded, as the pathologist continued his examination. “You pull with a knife.”

“This wasn’t made by a knife,” Konrad corrected.

“I knew that.”

The pathologist turned and measured the broken bottle lying on the counter behind him, even though the ME had likely already done it. Konrad held it next to the gaping wound. “See that tip?” He gestured to a sharp point at the base of the break. “This bottle made those lacerations along the bottom edge of the opening.”

Jackson wanted to feel relieved. They had the right weapon.

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