Allison Brennan - Original Sin

He was, after all, the mayor, and the council member who’d led the charge to appoint her sheriff.

She said to Rod, “You’re killing me here. It’s been thirty minutes.” All he’d spoken were clipped orders to his young assistant.

“I have nothing,” he snapped. “Nothing.”

“Nothing … what the hell does that mean?”

“Heart-perfect. Lungs-strong. No sign of cancer, heart attack, internal bleeding, physical signs of OD-I sent the labs over as a rush, and Monica just walked over tissue samples from every major organ, as well as skin and hair samples. I have a second set being worked up to send to the state lab for additional testing, beyond our capabilities. But sudden, violent overdoses would normally show something somewhere. Needle pricks in her arm? No. Bloody nose? Nope. No signs of sores or burns in her mouth. Hell, she probably has never even smoked a cigarette; her lungs are in great condition. Her stomach contents are next to nothing, some liquid-probably tea-no solids. Sent that over too.”

“There was an odd smell at the scene when we arrived-maybe she was poisoned through the air, breathed it in.”

“No sign of violence to her nasal cavities or throat or lungs. It’s like her heart just … stopped for no damn reason.”

Skye wanted something scientific to hold on to, but Rod wasn’t giving her anything.

He continued. “I saw the destruction on the cliffs, Skye. There had to have been more than one person on scene before or during her death. We didn’t find her clothing or her car, and she couldn’t have walked there without shoes-her feet are dirty, but no cuts or bruising. Someone had to have brought her out; someone had to have taken her clothing. Why? She should be alive. She’s perfect in every way.”

“This morning her father said she’d recently lost a lot of weight, that she’d been exercising.”

“How recent? Sudden weight loss, or over time?”

“He said she started losing at the beginning of the school year. Lost twenty pounds or so, according to her mother.”

“Twenty pounds in five months? Not common, but certainly possible.” He inspected her body. “Yeah, I see the loose skin here … here. But if she was popping pills, I’ll know when I get the bloodwork back. I’m running everything I can think of.”

“Sexual abuse?”

“No sign of recent or habitual abuse. No signs of forced entry or violence or bruising in the vaginal area.”

He handed her a Polaroid photograph. “Here’s a copy of her tattoo.”

Skye stared at the photo. The colorful tattoo was eerily beautiful, a circle with crisscrossing curvy lines that narrowed in the center. It was the same image upside down. “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s a bit unusual. I thought you might need it, show it to the parents. Maybe one of her friends knows something about it.”

She stuffed it into her notebook. “Lots of girls these days get tattoos.”

“I’ve seen. Usually when they’re dead. And one more thing.”

Rod turned Abby on her side and touched the small of her back. “I didn’t notice this at the site, but she has a faint birthmark here.”

The pale strawberry stain looked like a sun, with a filled, near-perfect circle in the middle of faint lines reminiscent of varicose veins, except they were red. Almost as if smeared, the birthmark spread around her to her side, ending in a crescent.

“A lot of people have birthmarks. What’s unusual about it?”

“It seems too perfect for a natural mark. I’m wondering if it’s scarring left over from a previous tattoo. But she’s underage, she’d need parental permission to both get and remove a tattoo.”

Skye shook her head. “In California, but it’s pretty easy to go to Nevada and get a tat, and there are plenty of people here who’ll do it for the right price. Did it contribute to her death?”

“Doubtful, but since I don’t know what killed her, I’m not going to discount anything. I took a skin graft and should have some answers.”

“Are you thinking maybe an infection from a bad needle?”

“Again, doubtful-her white blood cell count is normal. She’s a little on the anemic side, but not dangerously low. But hell, Skye, I’m willing to look at every cell in her body if it’ll tell me what happened to her.”

Her phone vibrated. Normally she wouldn’t answer it during an autopsy, but it was the hospital calling. “Sheriff McPherson.”

“Sheriff, this is Doctor Bertrand at Santa Louisa General. I need to report a missing person.”

“Doctor, I’m in the middle of-”

“You’re the contact. It’s my coma patient, in the hospice wing. Raphael Cooper.”

Skye straightened. Rafe Cooper was missing? “What happened? When?”

“I don’t exactly know-he apparently walked out just after midnight.”

“Walked out?”

“I’ve already ordered a copy of the security tapes for you, but I saw it myself. He walked out of the hospital. Extremely odd.”

Odd? That wasn’t the word Skye would use.

Especially since he’d apparently gone missing two hours before Abby Weatherby died. He’d also been the prime suspect in the slaughter of twelve priests, until Anthony Zaccardi convinced her that a demon was responsible.

Maybe Raphael Cooper wasn’t as innocent as Anthony made him out to be.

“I’m on my way.”

Moira listened to Lily’s account of what happened on the cliffs. According to her, Fiona’s coven had killed Abby, though she didn’t know exactly how. Something had come out of the ground around Abby’s body, but she couldn’t say what.

At least a dozen people had been involved, many from Santa Louisa. Lily hadn’t seen the faces of everyone in the circle, but she recognized some.

Moira realized the absolute worst had happened. Not only had the Seven been freed, but no one had control over them. Neither Fiona nor anyone else. They were on the loose, and anything could happen.

“My pastor was there,” Lily said. “Pastor Garrett. Why?”

“Why did you go to the cliffs in the first place?” Moira demanded to know. “What were you thinking?” She breathed deeply, and her chest ached from the earlier attack.

“I-” Lily glanced at Jared.

“Don’t look at him,” Moira snapped. She was too tired and sore to coddle the teenager. She swallowed three aspirin and chased them with lukewarm water. “You went to the cliffs when I told you to stay the hell away from Abby. I told you she was up to something. You were supposed to tell me when the coven was meeting!”

Lily blinked back tears and Jared jumped to her defense. “Don’t yell at her! She just saw her best friend die-her cousin she’s known her entire life-and saw things no one’s seen before.”

Moira held back an outpouring of truths these kids needed to hear before it was too late; she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Instead, she bit her tongue.

Lily said quietly, “I thought I could help Abby. I thought that’s what she wanted, but didn’t know how to ask. But when I got there-she-she-” Lily stuttered, not knowing how to describe it.

“Abby wanted to be there,” Moira said evenly.

“Yes.”

“You said they called you the arca . Is that right?”

She nodded, accepting with a smile the water Jared offered her. “I don’t know what it meant, but they painted these symbols on me-”

“Symbols? Show me.”

“I showered. I felt so disgusting, dirty-I can’t.”

Moira wanted to throttle her, but asked calmly, “Can you draw them for me?”

“Maybe.” She bit her lip, obviously not knowing what was written on her.

“I remember one or two of them,” Jared said.