Robert Walker - Grave Instinct

“ Thirteen years ago I had my hands full with being the new medical examiner in Washington, D.C.”

Long before I became Division Chief. Look, I'll find out more about the case, get back to you.”

“ The caller wouldn't give any identification on herself, but here's the name and address of the guy she informed on: Daryl Thomas Cahil at 153 Orchard Row, Morristown, New Jersey. That might help you.”

“ You mean this nutcase is on the outside?”

“ The woman claimed he'd been released from someplace.”

“ Yeah, well, I know he was put away, but I didn't know he was out on the street. I'll look into it. You think there could be some connection with the brain thefts?” Eriq's voice gave way to a hope. “I mean, can we get so lucky? As it is, we have zip.”

“ Let's just say it's a rock that bears looking under. And if he is located, I want to interrogate him about the sign left inside Amanda Manning's skull.”

“ Excellent find, Jess. It will help us separate the wheat from the chaff.” Santiva yawned into the phone. “I'll look under that rock first thing tomorrow.”

Pittsburgh Pennsylvania University, dorm room Same night

The Net user, Washington Williams, was caught up in the sheer detail of information and photos of the brain provided by the website he was on. A medical student, he had a great deal to learn, and he had to memorize it by yesterday. His weary, swollen eyes scanned the information as his pen and pad began to create what was beginning to take shape as a self-directed quiz.

The page before him was from Encarta and it read:

Included in the limbic (border) system are the amygdale (almond-shaped), associated with the primitive emotions of fear and aggressiveness, or fight and attack necessary for survival; and the hippocampus, also in the temporal lobe, having to do with memory formation.

The extension of the upper end of the spinal cord, about the size of the little finger, is the brain stem, lying at the base of the skull cavity. Regarded as part of the midbrain, it is some five hundred million years old. It is here that the switchover of nerves takes place, giving control of the right side of the body to the left side of the brain and vice versa.

The upper end of the spinal cord passes through the foramen magnum (large opening), the hole in the floor of the skull, and ends in the medulla oblongata, a prolongation of the spinal cord. The medulla oblongata is…

The medical student's pen slid from his fingers as he lolled into sleep.

July 11, 2003

The day after the strange call on her cell phone had passed uneventfully for Jessica, but on the day after that, she accompanied Lorena Combs to Amanda Manning's funeral. The Jax-town police and Combs's office positioned plainclothes detectives and cameras at every angle, some mingling in with the crowd of mourners. Anyone and everyone attending was put on videotape.

The funeral over, Jessica and Combs poured over the photographic surveillance of the funeral, searching for any likely suspects to the girl's murder. Often, out of a sense of guilt and remorse-or a perverted sort of pride in their work-a killer showed up at his victim's funeral, unable to keep away. Some did it out of a sense of pride at having gone undetected, a final flip of the bird to officialdom, society, the church, the family, the parents and the victim.

Similar tapes had been made at the funerals in Richmond and Winston-Salem. But no one had looked out of place, nervous or anxious beyond the grieving loved ones. There were no loners holding back behind nearby trees or tombstones.

J.T. arranged for a member of the family, an uncle, to review the tapes with them as well. Ted Manning picked out any faces that didn't belong, and he was accurate with all the undercover officers, male and female. Then he hit on one face in the crowd he could not recognize, a blurred profile shot of a man standing at the center of the crowd, left of the coffin.

J.T. had the shot blown up, and still the Mannings did not recognize the man, but Sheriff Combs did, coming out of her seat. “I know that face. He was at the marina the night the body surfaced. He was supposedly off one of the yachts, and he got pushy with my men, real interested in what had happened.”

They detoured back to the Venetia Warf and located the harbormaster, who instantly identified the man in the picture as Mr. Swantor, and he pointed out the man's large yacht. Welcoming them aboard, Swantor showed them gracious hospitality, sitting them down topside, offering them drinks. Combs agreed to lemonade and Jessica thought that sounded refreshing. She expected him to call out to a servant or a wife to fetch the drinks, but Swantor did the dubious honors himself. Jessica thought him overeager to please the authorities, as was reported the night of Captain Abrams's gruesome discovery. Still, while this could point to a hidden agenda, it could also say that Swantor was civic-minded or downright lonely and starved for attention.

“ So… sir… tell us,” asked Combs, “what was your purpose in attending the Manning girl's funeral?”

“ You people… you are so clever. How did you know I was there? Never mind, I'm sure you don't dare reveal your sources or methods to a civilian.”

Jessica set aside her lemonade. “Will you please answer the question, Mr. Swantor?”

He took a deep breath. “Because I felt awful about what had happened to the Mannings and thought it the only thing I could do under the circumstances, you know, to represent the yachts-people. None of whom,” he added apologetically, “could make the funeral, although I made it my business that each should know when and where it would be held. Short of that, I set up a collection, you know, for everyone to chip in something for the parents, called the local TV news channel and asked to form a fund in memory of the dead girl. They said they'd get back to me on it, but haven't so far. So far, I've collected five hundred dollars from guess who?”

Swantor had just set himself up as the exception to the thoughtless well-off people residing on the yachts surrounding them. He was a tall, strong-looking man, robust from the sun on his face and arms, with the pontification of a pacing, fully displaying peacock. Lorena Combs complimented him on his generosity and concern. He blew it off with a suave wave of the hand, saying, “Look… let me show you two ladies the rest of the boat, belowdecks! Ladies… ahhh, Sheriff, Doctor?” He gestured with both hands for them to follow him as he backed down the steps to the cabin below.

He was expansive in showing them his beloved yacht, opening every nook and cranny for them to fawn over. His yacht was magnificent, state-of-the-art and fully equipped with the latest in nautical equipment. Jessica noticed the computer aboard, and he freely talked about its capacity.

“ The damn thing can practically run the ship on its own. Hardly needs me. It can detect objects in its path! Warns me fifty to a hundred yards in advance, depending on the size of the obstruction.”

Jessica saw a separate computer with a large screen and a movie camera attached to it.

“ Where is Mrs. Swantor?” asked Lorena.

“ Oh… no… I'm quite alone aboard,” he explained. “Mrs. Swantor… Lara and I… well, we divorced some months back. Still adjusting to the new life. Not easy, I can tell you. Maybe the trip to Cancun will help. Plan on going there soon.”

After talking to Swantor, they walked down the wharf back toward their unmarked Sheriff s Office vehicle.

Combs said, “Satisfied with Swantor's good intentions?”

“ Maybe… maybe not.”

“ Same here. I always get the creeps when somebody's in such heat to get near the body. And this guy did it two or three times when she was on the shrimp boat, and then he goes to the funeral.”