Chapter 7: The Message in the Marrow
The morgue at 5:00 AM smelled of ozone and industrial bleach. Elias stood over Captain Miller's body. The high-velocity .338 round had been surgical—a clean entry through the frontal bone, leaving the rest of the face eerily intact.
"You shouldn't be here, Thorne," the Medical Examiner, Dr. Aris, muttered. She didn't look up from her clipboard. "The Chief has this under 'Internal Affairs' jurisdiction. That means hands off."
"I just want to see the trajectory," Elias lied. His hyperthymesia was already cross-referencing the angle of the shot from the roof.
He waited for Aris to turn toward the sink. In three seconds, Elias used a pair of sterile forceps to tilt Miller's head. He noticed a slight protrusion in the back of the throat—not a natural part of the anatomy.
He reached in. His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic.
It was a brass key, welded to a small, waterproof capsule. He slid it into his pocket just as Aris turned back.
"Find what you were looking for?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Just a confirmation," Elias said, his pulse steady. "Miller wasn't running from a killer. He was running to a hiding spot."