“Oh my god,” Avery said. “And would that be enough to kill someone?”
“Yes, especially one of the bites from the venomous spiders. There were two bites from a brown recluse, as backed up by the entomologist that was on hand during the exam. The third venomous bite came from a funnel web spider. And from what I understand, that’s the rare one. The family from which that spider came isn’t native to the States.”
“Where does it come from, then?” Avery asked.
“I don’t know. You’d have to speak with the arachnologist. And you know, I must say that I can’t be absolutely certain the venom from the bites killed the victim. It was something that the spider expert and I disagreed on, actually.”
“Why is that? What do you think killed him?”
“Well, Mr. Lawnbrook’s cortisol levels were much higher than they should have been. Essentially, he was basically terrified at the moment of his death—but the levels I saw were off of the charts. The heart showed massive signs of stress and trauma. I am quite certain Mr. Lawnbrook suffered a heart attack during his time in the closet. He was that frightened.”
“Is the body still here?” Avery asked.
“It is. I have to warn you, though…it’s a pretty grisly sight.”
“I’ll be okay,” Avery said.
She had nearly said I’m sure I’ve seen worse but then she tried to imagine what someone with twenty-two spider bites—three of which were deadly—might look like. The imagery from what Finley had told her about eggs being found in the nostrils and intestine did not sit well with her either. Still, she felt she needed to see the body for any other signs or clues.
Yin led them to the rear exam room and methodically walked over to the rows of sliding cabinets. With a hefty pull, she drew out the slab that Alfred Lawnbrook was occupying. She stepped back, allowing Avery and Finley room to step forward. Avery approached the body while Finley remained close to the door, making it clear that he had no intention of getting any closer to the body.
Even after the care and cleaning of the morgue, Lawnbrook’s body looked rough. The incisions from the autopsy were almost completely overshadowed by the swelling and discoloration of the skin. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as bad as what Avery had pictured in her head but it was still rather grim.
One bite on Lawnbrook’s face had caused swelling along the left side, making his eye look slightly displaced. The lack of blood flow through the body made the swelling and discoloration seem almost fake, giving the entire body a waxen glow. Avery did her best to look over the body for any signs of physical abuse. And while the slight discoloration made it hard to do a thorough search, Avery was pretty sure there was nothing to be seen.
“Thank you,” Avery said, stepping away from the body.
Cho Yin nodded and closed the drawer. “Of course, the cooling temperatures we keep here and the exam itself altered the appearance. He looked much worse when he came in. I can send you over some of those photos if you like.”
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. But thank you for your time, Ms. Yin.”
She and Finley walked back outside and as they made their way to the car, the questions continued coming to Avery. She sorted them out numerous ways, loving the feel of her brain naturally falling back into what it was good at.
Sure, it’s natural for most people to be scared of spiders…especially that many. But would they be scared enough to cause a heart attack? And if so…well, something about attacking someone in such a way felt personal. So maybe the killer knew the victim…which opens up a whole different avenue.
That gives us two clear paths: looking for someone with an intimate knowledge of spiders, and someone who knew Lawnbrook and had some sort of grudge against him.
“Where to now?” Finley asked as he slid behind the wheel.
Avery couldn’t help but feel proud of him. He was taking charge and doing so in a way that was not overpowering. He was going to be a damn fine detective sooner rather than later.
“Back to the precinct,” she answered. “I’d like to sit down with O’Malley and come up with a clear plan of attack before going any farther.”
Finley seemed glad to drive away from the morgue and Avery didn’t blame him. Few cases had gotten under her skin and this might be the first one to feel as if it were crawling on her skin. But underneath even that nervous feeling was the excitement of being back on the job—of tracking down leads and, at the end, finding a killer and bringing them to justice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He sat at his worktable and looked at all of the pictures on the wall. It was eerie to know that he was seeing a man in the images who was no longer alive. These pictures were really all that remained of him—the pictures and the miserable little imprints on the world he had left behind.
But this was a man who had lived his life in fear. And as far as he was concerned, living in fear was no way to live.
It was a lesson he’d had to learn himself, especially when acquiring all of those spiders. He’d never been afraid of them, but to see the bigger ones and how they were actual living, breathing things…they became something altogether different.
He was sitting in his basement, a small desk lamp and the glow from his laptop providing the only light in the place. He’d just finished watching the latest report about Alfred Lawnbrook. The authorities still had no idea where to look, no clues, no leads. And that’s because he had let the spiders do the work for him. In the end, he had not had to place a single hand on Lawnbrook.
Behind him, something rattled. He turned and saw the old cage sitting in the floor. There were two tree limbs and an abundance of grass along the bottom of it. The squirrel was getting finicky, darting around the cage and desperately trying to find a way out.
He went to the cage, unfastened the door, and reached in. He snatched the squirrel up carefully by its neck. The little bastard had taken a nip out of his thumb the last time he’d done this so he had learned his lesson.
The squirrel went still in his hand. He could feel its little heartbeat on the underside of his hand, thrumming away like a kick drum. This was why he had the squirrel—to watch it, to observe. They were likely the most skittish animals in the world, always afraid of something. And if he was going to better understand fear, what better subject was there to observe?
He took the squirrel back to the desk. He reached under the concave area where his chair usually went and pulled out the old mop bucket. It was filled to the brim with water. Slowly, he dipped the squirrel’s tail into it. The creature went spastic right away, fighting to get free.
He then lowered it some more, until its back legs and rear end were in the water. The squirrel’s eyes went wide and it started letting out pitiful mewling sounds. It was terrified now, fighting for its life. He was so enraptured by watching it that he lost his focus for a moment. The squirrel turned a certain way that only rodents seemed capable of, and took a bite out of the back of his hand.
He screamed and dropped the squirrel into the water. It thrashed and tried to swim to the edge, but never stood a chance.
Still raging over his bitten hand, he pushed the squirrel under. He watched it the entire time, thrashing and sending bubbles up. He held it down until it stopped moving under his hand and then he held it some more.
When he was done, he slid the bucket to the wall and checked his bitten hand. The fucker had drawn blood. He might need to get a shot.