Faking a Murderer by Kathy Reichs & Lee Child

Author:Kathy Reichs & Lee Child
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2019-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1825 EST

NOT WANTING TO PROVIDE A close-up for some carrion-eating reporter with a superzoom lens, Brennan got another Uber and had the driver take her to Cantina Marina in the district’s Southwest Waterfront area. She ordered the fried clam and shrimp basket and a Diet Coke, then settled at a table in a far back corner.

Her first call was to Bernie Rodriguez, a forensic anthropologist consulting to both the D.C. and Baltimore ME offices. She and Rodriguez had known each other since grad school. Still, she worried about his reaction. If he even answered.

Her worry was unfounded. Rodriguez picked up on the first ring, said he’d seen the media swarm, assured her that everyone in the section thought the accusations were rat shit. From the background hubbub she guessed he was still at the Marriott.

Brennan asked who’d done the autopsy on Jonathan Yeow. Rodriguez didn’t know, promised to check and ring back.

She was finishing her last mollusk when he did. The pathologist was Helen Matias. Brennan knew Matias. They’d taught body recovery protocol together when such courses were still offered at the FBI Academy in Quantico. Matias was impartial, skilled, and kick-ass smart. The two women shared a mutual respect. And a love of George Carlin.

Still.

Rodriguez offered Matias’s cell number. Brennan said she had it, thanked him, and disconnected.

Brennan checked the time. Six twenty-five. Not good. The ME office was undoubtedly closed for the day.

She dialed.

Four rings, then she was rolled to voice mail. She left a few words. Mainly her name.

Brennan looked around the cantina. It was packed with office workers in suits and ties and panty hose and trench coats. With locals in running gear and sweats. With tourists in sneakers and ball caps with cameras and guidebooks.

Matias called exactly four minutes after Brennan left her message.

“You’ll do anything to get your name in the papers.” The voice was low slung, the vowels broad and languorous. Definitely not New York.

“I’m thinking of dancing naked outside the White House.”

“Might work. How the hell are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Brennan said.

“Yeah. This whole Yeow thing’s a real pants pisser.”

So Matias knew.

“I didn’t kill him.”

Matias didn’t reply.

“I understand you did the autopsy.”

“I did.” Revealing nothing.

An awkward silence filled the line while Brennan thought and Matias waited. Brennan decided to dive straight in.

“I’m wondering if there’s any way I could—”

“I’d like you to take a look at him.”

“What? Who?”

“Yeow. I found troubling marks on his shoulders.”

“Troubling.”

“Yes.”

Brennan gave Matias room to expand. She didn’t.

“You want my opinion.”

“Unofficially, of course.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Suits me.”

“401 E Street. That’s in Southwest. I’ll meet you in the lobby at eight.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Tempe. No one can know that you’re viewing the body.”

“What body?”

“Good. Because a leak could get both our faces on the eleven o’clock news.”

• • •

BRENNAN KILLED TIME SIPPING COFFEE. After the diet coke, with refills, the last thing she needed was more caffeine. But the restaurant was crowded and she wanted an excuse to stay.

By googling the address on E Street, she learned that the distance from her current location was about three-quarters of a mile.

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