The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)

Green said, “So somebody poured out a bunch of, I guess, animal blood under the guy hanging in the living room.”

“And did he die by hanging?” asked Decker.

The ME nodded. “All signs point to that. Ligature mark on the neck, burst capillaries in the eyes.”

“Petechial hemorrhaging in the sclera,” said Decker absently.

This comment drew a sharp glance from Green.

With the ME’s help Decker moved one of the bodies onto its side. He stared at the man’s back. “This was the guy hanging?”

“That’s right,” said Green.

Decker laid the body back down and looked at the man’s feet, ears, hands, and groin.

He frowned.

“What is it, Decker?” said Jamison.

Ignoring her question, Decker said, “His hands weren’t bound. But no sign of defensive wounds. A guy getting hung is going to fight back. And he was a good-sized man and looked pretty fit.”

The ME pointed to a spot on the back of the dead man’s head. “Contusion here. Blunt force trauma. I think he was knocked out and then strung up. No need for restraints then.”

“And this one?” asked Decker, as he looked over the second body, also turning it onto its side. “There was foam on his lips. Ordinarily, that could mean death by drowning. Or some type of poison.”

“We’re running toxicology tests on him,” said the ME. “But there was no water in his lungs, so drowning is out for the cause of death. Could be a drug overdose. God knows we have enough of those around here. The cooler here holds twenty bodies. That used to be plenty. Never got filled up. Then the opioid crisis hit full force and the city had to buy a refrigerated trailer for excess capacity. We keep it out in the parking lot. And now it’s always full too. I can’t autopsy them all. Not enough time. If they come in with a needle sticking out of their arm, that’s good enough for me on the cause of death.”

Decker eyed the man incredulously for a moment, though the ME didn’t seem to notice. Then Decker laid the body back down and said, “Doesn’t account for the other guy hanging from the ceiling. Or the blood.”

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Green.

The door to the room opened and in walked Lassiter, dressed in the same clothes she had worn the previous night. It seemed that she had not been home.

Green said, “Donna, you should’ve gotten some shut-eye.”

Lassiter wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Decker and Jamison.

“I thought we agreed that—”

Green turned to the ME. “So we probably got animal blood. What does that tell us?”

The ME shrugged. “I just find out how they died. You’re the investigator.” He looked at Decker. “I’m not a forensic pathologist. They’re apparently in short supply and cost too much,” he added with a grin. “And a town like this can’t afford one. I’m just a local semi-retired doctor. Urologist. I do this job part-time. But the state prescribes a course you have to take. And there are continuing education courses you have to take.”

“We might have to do better than that,” said Decker, drawing a quick frown from the ME.

Decker turned to Green. “The blood, was it symbolic? A message? A ritual?”

“I don’t think we can answer those questions yet,” said Green.

Lassiter closed the door behind her and drew closer to the table, coming to stand right behind Decker. He didn’t seem to notice her proximity.

“How about IDs on these guys?” he asked.

“We ran both their prints through AFIS,” said Green. “No hits came back. I know AFIS isn’t perfect, but if they’re criminals they’ve never been arrested.”

“Run them through other databases,” said Decker. “They might be civilians who were getting background checks run for employment and things like that.”

“We’re doing that,” said Lassiter.

Decker turned around to see her standing directly behind him.

Even though she was in heels, there was nearly a foot of height difference between them. He looked down at her and she looked up at him.

“Good,” he said before turning back around to look at the bodies again. “I take it that neither of the men had any connection to the house? Didn’t own it?”

“How do you know?” Lassiter blurted out.

“If they had, you probably would have identified them by now,” said Decker. “But who does own the house?”

“The bank,” answered Green. “It was in foreclosure. The previous owners defaulted on the loan and left town nearly a year ago. Place has been basically abandoned since then.”

Decker said, “But the house had electricity, or else the blood wouldn’t have fried the lamp cord and started a fire. Why would the power still be on after all that time?”

“Well, we have squatters around,” said Green. “They crash in these abandoned houses for weeks or months, and they illegally tap into the electrical supply. And sometimes the banks rent the houses out to make some money while they’re trying to sell them. They would need to have the juice on for that.”

“Was that house rented out at any time?” asked Jamison.

“Still checking on that, but I don’t think so.”

Decker said, “The neighborhood looked pretty much empty. There were no cars parked on the street.”

“Nothing unusual about that around here,” said Green. “Baronville has lost about half its population. At our peak, when all the mines and mills and plants were cranking, we used to have almost double the people living here now. Nearly the size Erie is now. But no more.”

Decker said, “The point is, there won’t be many people able to help us with what happened at that house.”

Green said, “There are only three houses on that street with people living in them. I spoke to one and Donna spoke to another, but they didn’t see or hear anything. And prior to last night they had seen no activity at the house in question.”

“Nothing?” said Decker.

“According to them, no,” replied Green.

“Any reason to believe any of them might have been involved?” asked Jamison.

Lassiter answered. “Alice Martin is an elderly woman who’s lived her whole life in Baronville. I actually know her because she was my Sunday school teacher. The second home is owned by an old man in a wheelchair named Fred Ross. The last house is the closest to the crime scene, but the man who lives there, Dan Bond, is blind. I spoke to Bond, and my partner talked to Mrs. Martin. I think we can safely rule out each of them as possible suspects.”

Decker turned around to look at her again. “Why is that?”

Lassiter blinked. “Don’t you think it’s obvious?”

Decker glanced at Green. “There are some things about a murder investigation that are obvious. Ruling out someone as a suspect after one contact or an assumption is not one of them.”

Decker could see Lassiter’s face flush and her features turn ugly, but he plowed ahead.

He added, “So, Dan Bond and Alice Martin have been interviewed. Why haven’t you talked to Fred Ross yet?”

Green said, “He wasn’t home at the time. We’re going to check with him, though.”

“Any idea how one of your uniforms got on the dead guy?” asked Decker.

“None. All uniforms are accounted for, as far as we can tell.”

“So maybe the source of the uniforms?” said Jamison.

“We’re checking all that,” interjected Lassiter, who looked like she was barely containing her anger. “We didn’t just fall off a truck, you know.”

Decker ignored this and pointed to a spot on the shoulder of the man found in the basement. “What’s that?”

The ME said, “I noted that in my report. Maybe something was placed there and then removed.”

“Any ideas?”

“Could be any number of things. Pain patch for one. Nicotine patch for another.”

“Was he a smoker?” asked Jamison.

“His lungs showed some damage from smoking, yes. I’m estimating that he wasn’t yet forty, so if he had stopped smoking his lungs most likely would have been able to regenerate.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter now,” said Green.