Val tried hard to keep an emotional distance from the scene that lay before her. She was a death scene investigator with the Erie County Medical Examiner’s office in Buffalo NY. The name said it all. Death was her job. As such, she was to respond to unexpected, suspicious or violent death as a representative of the medical examiner’s office. Her primary responsibility was to document the circumstances of the fatality and do a preliminary examination of the bodies. Basically, collect anything that would help Dr. Richard Maddox, the new chief medical examiner for Erie County, determine cause and manner of death. Val’s charge was to focus on the victims. The cops’ emphasis was on the crime. Fine lines blurred the two roles and a cordial weaving of skills often came into play to get the case solved.

In cases of homicide, especially those that have happened under unusual circumstances, she would be the liaison between the medical examiner’s office and law enforcement. That was certainly going to be the case here.

Shifting her weight several times, Val tried to find a comfortable position to stand as she waited. The chilly bite in the air was taking its toll on her legs, particularly the right one, which was starting to feel numb. The doctors had told her the injury would be sensitive to temperature changes. But damn it, it’s been eight months already. As she fidgeted, she tried hard to not think about why these people died—particularly about the boy. She wondered if his mother had killed him—then taken her own life. Or did someone else murder both of them?

Val took a deep breath and looked at her surroundings, then pulled out her phone again to check the time and her messages again. Where in the hell was Detective Gavin? She put the phone back in her pocket, wondering how this place was chosen for Gabrielle Morgan and her son to die. What was the significance? The décor in this building screamed anything but peaceful. Maybe that was the point.

The small church had four columns of pews, about twelve rows long on each side. Many of the windows were stained glass depicting the stations of the cross—the crucifixion—a gruesome reminder of our violent nature, one that never would be eradicated through evolution, conditioning, therapy. This trait is one that survived and only strengthened over time. Growing to be a little more concealed, a little more calculated; maturing strategically into an innate skill, honed to methodically plan, execute, and take down another human being masterfully.