Page 1 of Don't Say a Word
Prologue
Phoenix PD Officer Josie Morales stood over the body of a kid who couldn’t be over eighteen. She said a silent prayer, but still wanted to punch something. What a waste.
“Where’s the damn ME?” her partner, Tyrell Jones, said. “It’s already hot as balls out here.”
“Detectives are on their way,” Josie said. The ME always came after the detectives.
She and Tyrell had just finished their morning briefing when dispatch reported that park rangers had found a dead body in Mountain View Park, only a couple blocks from their precinct. Now they were stuck here until the detectives cleared the scene. Their coffee run would have to wait.
“How long until the dicks get here?” Tyrell said. He wasn’t a fan of the detective squad, mostly because of how some of them treated uni’s.
She asked dispatch for a status.
“Twenty minutes,” she told Tyrell.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he took another long look at the deceased. “Drugs,” he said, though they couldn’t be certain. Theycouldn’t see any blood or external wounds, but that didn’t mean that a drug overdose was the cause of death.
Josie had already sectioned off the area with crime scene tape, not because she thought this was a homicide, but because she didn’t want people being disrespectful and nosy. A couple joggers slowed as they passed Josie, straining their necks to see what the cops were doing. Tyrell glared at them, then walked back to their patrol car and returned with a tarp. They carefully covered the body.
“Fucking waste,” Tyrell muttered.
He’d been a uniformed officer for fifteen years and planned to retire after putting in his twenty, then open a bar. Or a gun range. Or a gym. It changed depending on his mood, but one thing was certain, he’d told Josie more than once, he wanted to work for himself and take orders from no one except his wife.
He was cynical and rough around the edges, but Tyrell was a solid and seasoned cop. He never dodged calls and called out cops who routinely did, which didn’t make him a lot of friends. Josie had learned a lot from Tyrell since she’d partnered with him after shifting to days three months ago, and while she wished he would be a bit more diplomatic with their colleagues, she respected and trusted him.
Josie kept her eyes on the people in the area, making sure they stayed beyond the crime scene tape. She glanced at Tyrell and, even though he was wearing sunglasses, she could tell by his tight jaw and the way he stood that he was upset.
He had two kids. To see a dead teen was difficult for her, but had to be harder on a father.
By the time a detective sedan pulled up, they’d drawn a larger audience, but Josie had put the tape far enough away that onlookers couldn’t overhear their discussion.
“Well, shit,” Tyrell said when he saw Rachel King was the responding detective. “Deal with her, I don’t have the patience today.” He walked over to the tape to wait for the ME’s van.
Good that Tyrell walked away, because Rachel had made few friends during her years on the force, primarily because she wasboth prickly and hypercritical of uniformed officers. However, the CSI who rolled up behind her was Josie’s cousin Nico Angelhart.
Nico smiled when he saw her, but before they could exchange a word, Rachel removed the tarp and motioned for him to take photos.
He was quick, methodical, and efficient as he photographed the body, the surrounding area, and then motioned that Rachel could search the victim. They would want to identify him as soon as possible and notify his parents. Josie was glad she didn’t have to do that part of the job.
As she watched, Rachel turned out the teen’s pockets. A small baggie of blue pills along with a couple twenties were in one pocket; his other held a thin wallet.
Rachel opened it. “Arizona State Identification Card, no driver’s license. Elijah Martinez, seventeen. Lives in an apartment off Nineteenth Avenue. That’s more than two miles away. What’s he doing here?” She continued flipping through the wallet. “Sun Valley High School,” she said. “That’s...”
“Less than a mile down the road,” Josie said. “My alma mater.” She was trying to build a rapport, but the detective neither looked at her nor acknowledged her comment.
Rachel handed the wallet, drugs, and cash to Nico, who sealed them in separate evidence bags. Most likely fentanyl. Dammit, this was the sixth fentanyl death Josie handled since moving to day shift. She’d stopped counting the ODs that she and Tyrell reversed with Narcan.
But Elijah Martinez was the youngest.
“No sign of external injuries. Likely drug overdose. Nico, what do you think?”
“The ME will do an exam, but I see no weapon, no biologic matter, no sign of violence or bruising. No external signs of drug use, no needles. Eight likely fentanyl tablets in the bag.” He couldn’t confirm fentanyl until the pills were tested in the lab. They’d seen fentanyl tainted with xylazine, an animal tranquilizer, as well as stimulants.
“Time of death?”
“You know better than to ask me,” Nico said with a half smile.
“But?” Rachel pushed.
