Page 34 of Silent Ridge

“You wanted me to call. Have you done the post already?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Do you know who this woman’s doctor was? Did you find any prescription bottles at the scene?”

“We didn’t find anything at the scene. I searched her home in Tacoma and didn’t find any prescriptions there, either. Hang on a minute.” I call out to Ronnie. “Can you look through the address book for any doctors?”

To Dr. Andrade I say: “Ronnie found her address book and she’s looking for doctors now. It may take a few minutes.”

Ronnie dutifully flips pages. The address book is quite thick.

“That Ronnie’s a firecracker,” Dr. Andrade says.

I’ll bet he never says that about me.

“Why do you need to know about a doctor? Did you find something I need to know about?” As far as I knew, Monique was in perfect health, except for taking Xanax. I’d stolen her Xanax when I was there a few years back. I thought it would be a weapon. Poison.

Ronnie found a doctor’s name in Tacoma. I provide it to Dr. Andrade and he repeats it back.

“I’ll give them a call,” he says.

“Tell me how she died.” I wasn’t letting him off the line that easy.

“Exsanguination,” he says.

“She bled out.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you need to talk to her doctor?”

“Megan, it may be nothing. I’d like to check with them first before I commit.”

I’ve caught him making mistakes on his reports before. He has a mind like a steel trap, and just as unforgiving. I need to know what he has. “Tell me what you think. I won’t hold you to it. It might have bearing on what I do next.”

Dr. Andrade let out a breath. “Okay. Fine. But you understand that there might be a simple explanation. In any case, the cause of death was loss of blood.”

I waited.

“There was an agent in her system that I’ve never run across before. All I can tell you right now is that it has paralytic properties. Like succinylcholine. That’s what they use sometimes for surgery.”

“Can you spell that for me?”

“I can’t tell you what it is. I’m just saying it’s a paralytic like succinylcholine.”

“Please. I just want to keep it in my notes.” He spells it for me. “Do you have any idea how it got in her system?”

“I can’t tell you yet. I found a needle mark on the skin of her neck. I’ve taken a biopsy of the neck muscle where the injection—if that’s what it is—was placed to see if I can find the same chemical. I sent it to the crime lab but it’ll be a while before they get back to me.”

“Were there any other injuries?” I ask, as if being skinned isn’t enough.

“I didn’t find any broken bones. There were no abrasions or cuts on the skin that would indicate anything other than the skin being removed. I can tell you this: whoever did this is a professional with a blade. I don’t know many surgeons who could have done that to her. It had to be a very sharp instrument. I would say a scalpel, but there are indications that it was a longer blade. Maybe six or seven inches. Like a fillet knife. A damn sharp one.”

He pauses and I can tell he has something else to say. I wait, not knowing where he’s going with all of this.

“Megan, if the chemical is a paralytic like succinylcholine she would have been conscious but unable to move. She may have been alive when her skin was removed. The pain would be so great that she wouldn’t have stayed conscious for long, but she might have lived until she bled out.”

My heart is still in my chest and my throat tightens. I feel dizzy and take several breaths before the world is back in focus. His words run through my mind like a song you can’t stop thinking of.

She may have been alive when her skin was removed.

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