The boom supporting the microphone above the table squeaked as Dr. McIntyre pulled it toward her mouth, as she always did. For the audio record, the doctor introduced herself and noted who was present in the room. “Today is the autopsy of Emma Powers, age twenty. Ms. Powers was found yesterday wrapped in plastic.” The doctor detailed the facts of the case for the record, then shifted toward the head of the table. “The victim’s eyes have been fastened closed with surgical tape. I’m removing it now to examine the eyes. I’m bagging the tape so the forensic team can analyze it for prints.”

Jordan stood still, praying the young woman’s eyes had not been damaged. The fact that she had to wait to be told fueled her frustration. She wanted to contribute but now realized she was of little use.

“The eyes are intact and appear to have suffered no trauma,” Dr. McIntyre said.

Jordan rolled her shoulders, releasing some of the tension banding the muscles.

The doctor moved around the body, noting three tattoos, what appeared to be old and very recent track marks, and a pierced belly button. “I’m rolling her on her side so I can get a good look at her back.” After some shuffling: “There’s significant lividity on her back, buttocks, and legs, indicating she was supine when her heart stopped pumping.”

Next came the rattle of metal instruments and the almost-silent tug of the scalpel through flesh. Always distracted by the visual, Jordan had never noticed the subtle sound of the knife tip, the tearing back of the flesh, the snap of the ribs with bone cutters, and the sucking sound of the rib cage rising off the body cavity.

Dr. McIntyre inventoried the organs, which were all of normal weight and size. Finally, she packed the organs in the body cavity and sewed the flesh back together. She next confirmed that the victim had been sexually assaulted, likely several times given the vaginal bruising. She collected semen.

In the end, the cause of death was asphyxiation, as it had been with the other victims. “I’ll have a full report in a few days. Tox screens will take a little longer.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Jordan said.

“Call me if you need anything.” Dr. McIntyre’s tone sounded genuine and heartfelt.

“Will do, Doc.”

Spencer offered his elbow, she took it, and he escorted her to the changing room. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m operating on the assumption that the surgical tape was a message for me.”

“Okay.” He stripped and wadded up his gown. It whooshed across the room and hit the disposal bin. A nothing-but-net dunk.

She stripped off her gloves and gown, balled them up, and aimed toward the bin. The bundle hit the ground. “So much for basketball.”

Chuckling softly, he crossed the room, and seconds later the discarded garment swooshed into the basket.