Page 17 of Girl, Reborn

‘Time of death?’

‘Around midnight last night.’

‘Any other injuries of note?’ Luca asked,craning to get a better look. ‘Defensive wounds, bruising, anything to suggesthe fought back?’

‘Most intriguing that you should ask.’Fenneman circled to the foot of the gurney and peeled back the sheet further toexpose Toledo's legs. Angry red bands marched around his ankles, the fleshscraped raw in places. ‘Note the distinct patterning here, the linear abrasionsconcentrated over the malleoli.’

Ella and Luca shared a look. A piece slotsinto place with a rusty click.

‘He was restrained,’ Ella said. Not aquestion. ‘Tied up before he took his last swim.’

‘So it would seem. And speaking ofswims...’ Fenneman consulted the chart, traced a liver-spotted finger down thetoxicology report. ‘Mr. Toledo’s ethanol levels were through the roof. Bloodalcohol content of 0.26. For reference, 0.08 is legally drunk and 0.4 ispushing coffin-territory.'

Luca said, 'So Toledo was absolutelyplastered.'

‘You could say that again,' said Fenneman.'But more importantly, I found traces of Flunitrazepam in his system.'

Ella stiffened. 'Flunitrazepam? As inRohypnol?'

'Got it in one.’

The vise around Ella's ribs tightened anotch. Rohypnol. Flunitrazepam. Skeezy fratboy knockout juice, the daterapist's weapon of choice. But dosed high enough, it'd take down a bull moose,let alone a tipsy politician.

An ugly picture was starting to takeshape. Toledo, three sheets to the wind and flying high as a kite. Probablycruising the bar scene, gladhanding his constituents, his adoring public.

Easy pickings for an opportunistic killer.

Slip a little something into his drink,wait for him to start pinwheeling, then spirit him away. No fuss, no muss.Drown him at your leisure and dump the body without so much as a peep.

It wouldn’t be quick or clean, but it wascoldly efficient.

Ella's gaze strayed down, down, catchingon the ring of mottled purple circling Toledo's ankles. Bruises in anear-perfect band, like cheap anklets.

‘Doc, these contusions here,’ she said.‘Any idea what could have caused them? Fetters? Zip ties?’

Fenneman checked his notes and said, 'It'scertainly pre-mortem bruising, but I couldn't say exactly what caused them.There were no traces of any foreign substances or elements down there. However,I will say that whatever held his ankles together was quite malleable. Thematerial rubbed against his skin, causing these chafe marks.'

Ella stared down at Toledo's ruined bodyas her brain spun in feverish circles. Ankle abrasions. Drowning. Poisoning. Abig-shot politician who’d dried out an entire town.

And that bizarre smell. It tickled hernostrils and set off quiet alarm bells. She rounded on Fenneman, fixing himwith a look that demanded answers.

The coroner hemmed and hawed, clearlyreluctant to speculate beyond his pay grade. But Ella just crossed her arms andwaited. Finally, Fenneman caved like a sandcastle at high tide.

‘If I had to hazard a guess – and mindyou, this is pure conjecture – I'd say it's indicative of stagnant water. Thekind that's been sitting for a while, breeding all manner of unsavory anaerobicbacteria.’ He plucked off his glasses, polished them on his lapel. A nervoustic if Ella had ever seen one. ‘Combined with the mineral tang, it suggests anenclosed space with high iron content.’

And just like that, the final tumbler felland the lock sprang open. Ella could see it clear as a blood spatter on a whitetile. Ricky Toledo, sloshed out of his mind and dosed to the gills, easypickings for a predator with an agenda. Hauled off to God knows where, somedank pit where the water waited, cold and black as a spider's heart. Bound likea prisoner to the gallows, fully conscious as they closed over his head, as hesucked vile fluid instead of air.

‘He wasn't just drowned,’ Luca saidhoarsely. ‘He was–’

‘Weighed down,’ Ella finished. ‘The unsubbound his feet and threw him in a well or cistern to drown like vermin.’

Luca raked a hand through his hair,leaving it mussed and spiky. ‘Concrete shoes.’

Silence descended for a minute. A thousandquestions were crowding Ella's tongue, begging for voice. But for once, shefound herself at a loss for what came next.

But Luca continued, ‘And that means, notonly did our killer leave poor Toledo to die, but he stayed close enough todrag him out once the job was done.’

‘Our killer watched him drown,’ Ella said.‘Left him to fester, then plucked him out and dumped him in a field.’

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