Page 20 of Deep Tide

“The other thing the ME took note of is the hands,” she said.

“What about them?”

A man in blue scrubs emerged from the restroom and stopped short when he saw Nicole. He nodded and walked away.

“Hey, let me call you back,” she told Emmet.

“Why?”

“I’ll call you from the car on my way home.”

She hung up and hurried down the hallway. “Dr. Bauhaus?”

He turned around, a wary expression on his face as he looked her over. He obviously thought she’d been staking out the men’s room, waiting to ambush him.

“Glad I bumped into you,” she said with what she hoped was a charming smile. “Any chance you have a minute? I just had a question or two about the autopsy.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then checked his watch. “Walk with me.”

“Thanks. This shouldn’t take long.”

Nicole tried to keep up with his long strides. The medical examiner was tall and had the lean build of a distance runner.

“I wanted to follow up about one of your observations during the exam,” she said.

“All of my observations will be in my report.”

“I know, but I don’t want to wait on that. Those things always take a while.”

He shot her a look, and she knew she was quickly rising to the top of his shit list. The first time she’d met him, she’d thrown up on his shoes. And now here she was stalking him to the men’s room—or so he thought—and taking potshots at his work.

“So, during the procedure you said something to your assistant about a scratch on the victim’s hand?”

“That’s right.”

The autopsy assistant had written down everything the doctor said, presumably so that he could reference it later without having to go back through the voice recording of the procedure.

“Do you think that’s a defensive wound?” Nicole asked. “You didn’t specify when you were talking to your assistant.”

“It’s undetermined.”

“It was her right hand, though, correct? So if we find out she’s right-handed—”

“It could be a defensive wound.”

“Okay. Thanks. And then the abrasions on her wrists? Could you tell me more about those?”

He stopped and looked down at her. “What about them?”

“You mentioned both wrists. So, I was wondering, is that another possible defensive wound, or something else? I’m wondering if it’s possible she may have been bound at some point.”

“Yes.”

Nicole’s breath caught. “Yes, she was bound?”

“I said yes, it’s possible. In my opinion, it appears that she was bound shortly before her death.”

Her stomach clenched. “Just her hands or—”

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