Chapter 42: Lynn, What Do You Make of It?
Normally, spirits who hadn't passed on to the death dimension were just vessels for their obsessions. They didn't have any real consciousness.
They just drifted around their own bodies, or latched onto their killers, their loved ones, or whatever else they were fixated on.
A spirit that actually knew how to go to the police? This was a first for Lynn.
Hell, even those thirty-plus spirits from the vampire nest were just driven by pure revenge.
Lynn walked out of the precinct and activated his Phantasm ability, trying to communicate.
But no matter what Lynn asked, the female spirit just pointed to her own stomach, shook her head, and wept tears of blood.
'Great,' Lynn thought. 'Was she pregnant? Is her obsession trying to... give birth?'
The spirit opened her mouth, and the souls of several butterflies fluttered out. They circled her head a few times, then dissolved.
Lynn stared.
'What the hell was that?'
The spirit turned, her gaze fixed on something in the distance.
Lynn went straight to his car, using his death energy to guide the spirit into the passenger seat.
He started the engine and drove, following her line of sight.
Every time her gaze shifted, Lynn turned the car, continuing to follow her.
Finally, they reached the space beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. The spirit suddenly raised her hand and pointed.
Lynn parked the car and walked under the bridge. With the spirit's guidance, he found a large suitcase.
He opened it. The body of a woman was stuffed inside.
Lynn put on his gloves, lifted the corpse's shirt, and found exactly what he expected: a crudely stitched wound across her abdomen.
Confirming this was her, Lynn pulled out his phone and dialed. "I gotta say, I'm impressed. You actually reported yourself."
"Tell you what, why don't you power up that obsession a little more? Maybe learn how to talk. That'd be great."
The spirit, of course, didn't react.
She just stood there, vacant, pointing at the wound.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. The M.E. will take the body back, and they'll do an autopsy."
Just then, the call connected. "Damn it, Lynn, where the hell did you run off to? Do you have any idea what Jennifer just did because of you—"
Lynn cut George off. "George. Body found under the Brooklyn Bridge. It's a homicide. And it looks like the victim was cut open."
"Get the M.E. and get over here. Now."
Hearing this, George Stacy swallowed whatever tirade he'd been about to unleash.
"Got it. But Lynn, Brooklyn isn't our jurisdiction. I'll have to coordinate with their precinct."
After George hung up, Lynn found a place to sit.
He lit a cigarette and waited.
***
Half an hour later, George pulled up in his cruiser, a forensics team in tow.
As they piled out, Lynn just pointed them toward the scene.
George took one look at the body in the suitcase, then took the cigarette Lynn offered him. "How'd you find this one?"
Lynn ignored the question. "First, you tell me. How'd you know I was in Miami?"
"SHIELD sent over a 'return' memo. Said your loan-out period was over."
"FUCK. Those bastards at SHIELD. They file a request when they need you, and file another one to dump you the second they're done."
"And here I was, planning on a few more days in the sun."
"Never mind that."
George waved a hand, his expression turning grim. "The real reason I called you back... something big is happening in Manhattan."
"About four hours after you left, we found a female vic by the side of the road."
"Cause of death was asphyxiation. After she was dead, the killer jammed two wooden sticks into her eye sockets. And... he carved a heart into the back of her hands."
George took a long drag. "While we were still processing that, we found a second vic. A Jane Doe, no head. Same heart carved into her hands."
"Less than a day later, a third one. Same COD, asphyxiation. This time, her heart was cut out and placed on her forehead. And the same carved heart."
"I'm thinking we've got a serial killer. A vicious, psycho bastard."
George let out a heavy breath, watching the forensics team work. "When it comes to homicides, you've got that sharp instinct. That's why I called you back."
"We had no choice. The media got ahold of the story. If we don't close this, fast, this whole city... especially the women... they're going to panic."
Just then, one of the techs called out. "George! Lynn! We got something."
They hurried over.
The tech had turned the victim's wrist over. A black, heart-shaped symbol was carved into her skin.
Seeing the symbol, George's eyes narrowed. "That makes four. Lynn... what are you thinking?"
Lynn thought for a moment. "I need to see the other three bodies."
'This spirit was useless, still just pointing at her stomach. The autopsy would have to wait.'
'And she wasn't giving him any other clues. Maybe the spirits of the other three victims were still at the morgue.'
George nodded.
After confirming there were no other leads at the scene, he had the team pack up and head back to Manhattan.
***
At the precinct morgue.
The M.E. began the autopsy. Lynn went to the cold storage, looking at the three other victims.
But, no. Their spirits weren't there. 'Damn. This just got harder.'
He went back to the autopsy room. The M.E. had already finished.
He was looking at the stitched-up wound. The victim's kidneys had been removed. In their place, the killer had stuffed a handful of dead butterflies.
George Stacy's face tightened. "What the hell? What is this psycho doing? Some kind of ritual?"
"George, Lynn... according to the tests, cause of death was asphyxiation. Again."
The M.E. looked at them. "Same as the others."
George just rubbed his temples, at a total loss.
Lynn, however, turned his head and fixed his gaze on the female spirit, who was still standing right there.
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