Page 186 of Sticks and Stones
He laughed.
“Well, so are you. Just don’t get shot or killed. I really am at my max for paperwork. I may laugh when saying it, but it’s the truth.”
Yeah, well, again, knowing Gabe, there likely wouldn’t be any.
As they reached the morgue, it was pretty quiet in there, considering. It was just proof that the crazy stayed inside when the weather was cold and snowy.
Thank.
God.
Inside of the morgue, doing his job, they found the man of the hour. Reed was on a rolling chair, working on paperwork.
When they walked in, he glanced up and sighed.
“Oh, brother. What now?” he asked, seeing Gene and knowing the shit was about to hit the fan. The man was the harbinger of paperwork, trouble, and irritation.
And it was on his doorstep.
AGAIN.
Gene laughed.
“I mean, it’s nice to see you too, Doctor. I hope you’re having a delightful Saturday. I know mine has been a non-stop funfest.”
The man stood.
“What do you need? I don’t see Corbin, so that tells me this is FBI business.”
Clearly, word hadn’t spread, and for that, he was grateful.
Gene dropped the hammer, knowing it would piss the man off.
“The FBI pulled some cases from the local PD. You’re the city ME, so we need the autopsy records for three victims,” he admitted. “Corbin passed it off to us, and we’re running with it. I promise we won’t be up your ass for longer than it takes to get the files. You can call your commissioner if you wish for verification.”
No, that wouldn’t be necessary.
They only came around when they got tagged in a case, and he would send an email to the commissioner’s office to make sure later.
He didn’t think they were lying.
“Who are you here about?” he asked. “I have a refrigerator full of victims. Take your pick.”
Well, there were three he specifically wanted.
“How about Elliot Graves, Wesley Thorton, and Graham Sinclair?” he asked.
Reed had bad news for him.
“We don’t have the bones anymore. When we got their ID, I released them to the victims’ families. There wasn’t much to hold onto. They were mostly bones and a little bit of flesh on the bodies. I hope that’s not a problem,” he said, handing him the folders. “It pisses families off when you dig up the remains post burial.”
That.
It.
Did.
It looked as if they’d have to work off of Corbin’s file and the official ME report. They would have photographs, but they’d also have toxicology.
