Page 8 of Girl Betrayed

Dana had forgotten how quirky the brilliant doctor could be. Though his brilliance overshadowed his peculiarities, it seemed he enjoyed playing the part of his moniker.

Known proudly as the Alchemist to those who sought his talents in forensic specialties, Felix Raynard had a reputation of being a genius recluse who dwelled in the FBI’s forensic lab.

His job wasn’t that different from Dana’s. They both cataloged death. Though she preferred her ancient victims to the Alchemist’s barely cold ones.

Studying his unkempt appearance, and the way the large gray opti-visor atop his head made his frizzy white hair stick out every which way, Dana had to admit the Alchemist seemed even more eccentric than the last time they crossed paths.

She smoothed down her stray curls, briefly wondering if her own nickname conjured the same unconventional image among others in the Bureau.The Witch Doctor and the Alchemist.We’re certainly a peculiar pair.

“Wait.” Raynard’s gaze bounced around the room. “Where’s Agent Shepard?”

That’s what I’d like to know.Dana ignored the question, her attention on the evidence tray. “Is that why I’m here?”

Hartwell stepped up. “Yes. This was found at a murder scene.”

Dana looked at Jenkins. “Claire’s rehab center?”

Jenkins and Hartwell exchanged glances, making Dana’s blood boil. She hated the bureaucratic dance between different justice departments. “If this has to do with Claire, I can save yousome time and agree to consult on this case, no matter whose jurisdiction it lands in.”

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, signaling the ball was in Hartwell’s court. The officer sighed and gave a nod. “The weapon was found at the Passages Rehabilitation Center crime scene tonight. We believe it’s the murder weapon.”

“Who was murdered?” Dana asked.

Again, Jenkins and Hartwell shared a glance. It seemed like Hartwell was about to answer but Jenkins cut him off. “The victim’s identity is not being disclosed at this time.”

“Then why am I here?” Dana asked.

Jenkins spoke up. “Hartwell believes we need your expertise on the weapon.”

“A weapon like this is chosen for a reason,” Hartwell replied.

Fighting her frustration, Dana donned a pair of exam gloves and approached the blade. She’d only agreed to help because of Claire, but now that she was here, the familiar tug of intrigue took hold. “May I?” she asked.

“It’d be my pleasure to embark on another expedition with you,” Dr. Raynard quipped. Already gloved, he carefully opened the evidence bag and gently extracted the weapon, setting it on the gleaming silver exam table.

“Is it really a sickle?” Lennox asked.

Dana shook her head. “Common misconception. What you have here is a scythe.”

“There’s a difference?” Hartwell asked.

Dana nodded. “Quite a large one, historically speaking. A sickle has a more circular blade, a short handle and can be used with one hand, traditionally to reap wheat. A scythe’s blade is flatter, more like a raven’s beak. Its origin predates the sickle. It’s a long-handled tool that requires the use of two hands. Wielded by the Grim Reaper, the scythe is synonymous withdeath. Many cultures believe the Grim Reaper to be ordained by God and put on earth to do his bidding.Vita est morte est vita.”

“Life is death is life,” the Alchemist translated.

“That’s correct,” Dana replied. “Though seeing the phrase inscribed on the blade itself is rare, and something I’d need to research further.”

“A noble weapon with a noble history,” the Alchemist revered.

“There’s nothing noble about how it was used,” Hartwell muttered. “You said longhandled. This one’s only about a foot long.”

Dana nodded, pointing to the jagged end of the wooden handle. “It’s been snapped off here. Possibly on impact. Was the rest of it recovered at the scene?”

Hartwell shook his head but jotted down a note. “Not yet, but DCFD is still on scene containing the fire. I’ll circle back when it’s safe and see if I can recover it.”

“Why the scythe?” Lennox asked. “I mean for the Grim Reaper.”

“It’s an apt tool for harvesting,” Dana replied. “The scythe has always been meant for reaping, whether souls or crops. Each feeds its own end. It really just depends on who’s wielding it. How was the blade used?”

---