The Forgotten - Heather Graham 6 стр.


Its kind of like Mike, the headless chicken, Diego said gravely.

Theyd showered at the Sea Life Center and were now on their way to the medical examiners office to see Dr. Phil Kinny, the ME, who had possession of the foot.

Brett glanced questioningly at Diego, then went back to driving as he waited for his partner and friend to elaborate.

Diego nodded at him somberly. I swear this is no lie, Brett. You can look it up. There was a chicken by the name of Mike. Had his head chopped off, but they missed something at the brain stem. He lived for eighteen months.

Thats some kind of hoax, Brett said.

No, it happened in 1945. I know because I thought it was a hoax, too, so I checked it out. The guy who owned Mike made money touring him around. They also brought him to the University of Utah so that researchers there could document what had happened.

His head was chopped off and he lived? Brett asked skeptically.

The ax missed the carotid artery or something like that, and a blood clot kept him from bleeding out. The head was gone except for one ear. Mike even tried to peck and eat grain. Its a bizarre story. Supposedly he made the farmer like forty-five hundred dollars a month, which would be close to fifty thousand now. They fed him with an eyedropper, gave him milk and stuff. I dont remember exactly. I think he finally choked to death, but the point is, he lived for eighteen months without a head.

So youre telling me that Miguel Gomez might have had his head chopped off and then been programmed to kill his wife? Brett asked.

No. Im just saying theres something weird going on.

I agree. But Miguel couldnt have killed Maria. I dont think that I ever saw a man and woman married so long who were still so deeply in love, Brett said. He paused for thought. Actually, he saw the same love and respect in his own parents. Theyd married practically as children and were still marriedand bugging him for grandchildren. Luckily his sister had provided them with a boy and a girl, and they lived in Jacksonville, near his folks in St. Augustine.

Miguel loved Maria. So what? Doesnt mean he couldnt have become a zombie, until someone did him in for real, then chopped him up and threw him in Biscayne Bay. All we need is another zombie story around here, Diego said.

Brett agreed. In 2012, a young man had gone crazy, stripped naked and attacked a stranger on MacArthur Causeway, claiming the older man had stolen his Bible. Hed chewed off half the face of the victim, who had miraculously survived, before being shot by police. Brett knew a few of the officers who had been among the first responders. Theyd told him that the attacker had been so revved that he hadnt fallen immediately, actually growling at the officer who had demanded he cease and desist. The first bullet had done nothing; four more had been needed to bring down the attacker. The media, naturally, had seized on the event, which quickly became known as the Miami Zombie Attack or the Causeway Cannibal Attack.

They didnt need the media seizing hold of this situationespecially when years of work by a half dozen law enforcement agencies might well be at stake.

And especially when Miguel and Maria had left behind a loving family who didnt need that kind of story marring the memory of their loved ones.

With any luck, well avoid the zombie stories, Brett told him.

Diego snorted.

He was right, actually. A zombie story was inevitable, unless they managed to gag the press and anyone who might have seen Miguel before Marias death.

And now, of course, they had body parts that proved Miguel hadnt died in that fire. They were going to take some major-league credibility blows from the local, county and state police, not to mention every federal agency out there.

They arrived at the medical examiners office on Northwest 10th Avenue. Brett sighed. Hed been there far too many timesbut none quite like this. The gurneys were sized to hold bodies, but the one today held nothing but the severed foot.

The ME was waiting for them and started right in after a quick hello.

Heres what I can tell you. Yes, the foot goes with the finger goes with the DNA of Miguel Gomez. Were dealing with body parts that have been compromised by seawater, but that doesnt mean theres not a certain amount I can tell you. First, this foot wasnt in the water more than twenty-four hoursId say more likely around twelve to sixteen. Gomez was already dead when his foot was removed. It was anything but a precision operation. Youre not looking for a surgeon. You are looking for someone capable of swinging a blade. That foot was removed by something like a large hatchet or an ax.

How did Miguel die? Brett asked.

Phil Kinny stared at him. Brett, Im looking at a foot and a finger. Ive sent out tissue samples for analysis, in case that can tell us anything, but all I know so far is that a seemingly healthy man was dismembered after death. If he had drugs or alcohol in his system, the tox screen will tell us that. When I have anything more, Ill call you.

How long? Brett asked.

I marked this as top priority, Kinny told him. But this is Miami, he added drily. So no guarantees.

Thank you, Phil, Diego said.

Brett quickly echoed his words.

If I only had a head, Kinny said.

Brett felt as if hed stepped into a bizarre version of The Wizard of Oz. He understood what Kinny meant, though. Unraveling the mystery of death was Kinnys passion; his determination to know the truth had helped them many times.

Unfortunately, its probably in Biscayne Baysomewhere, Diego said.

But maybe near Sea Life, Brett speculated.

We searched Sea Life. More than a half dozen divers and as many dolphins searched Sea Life, Diego reminded him.

But if you had the head, you could tell us more? Brett asked Kinny.

The brain is complex, Kinny said. He looked at the two of them. True storyand bizarre. Police were called to a home where the husband and wife had been attacked, shot several times. The husband was found at the foot of the stairs. Hed brought in the paper, set up his cereal bowl and then died at the foot of the stairs. The wife was in bedalive, but just barely. She came to enough to say the name of one of their sons. When she came out of the coma, she denied shed ever said her sons name, but consequent investigations proved that he had come down the tollway, his car had been seenand he had ditched the gun.

Im lost. What are you getting at? Diego said.

The son finally confessed. He was mad at his father and wanted his parents money. But heres the thinghe got to the house and shot them both in bed around 2:00 a.m. Apparently, he wasnt much of a shot, though. His mother survived, and his father... The kid shot him in the head. The father was doomed, but despite that, a portion of his brain was untouchedthe portion that dealt with mechanical memory. He rose, got the paper and set up his cereal before dying, and without any idea at all that hed been shot and was dying and needed medical attention.

Mike the headless chicken, Diego breathed.

Is that possible? Are you making this up? Brett demanded.

Kinny looked almost hurt. Have you ever seen me joke in this office? he demanded.

Ive got to find Miguels head, Brett said.

Kinny looked almost hurt. Have you ever seen me joke in this office? he demanded.

Ive got to find Miguels head, Brett said.

* * *

The night was beautiful. It might be summer in Miami, but as if ordered by a celestial being, the breeze coming off the bay was exquisite, Lara thought. Like many attractions in the Southand even the North in summerSea Life was equipped with a number of spray stations where fans were set with water pumps to send a cooling mist into the air. Now she walked out from beneath the massive roofed-but-open dining area at Sea Life to cool off in the fine spray.

As decked out as many of the guests were that eveningmostly the women, because most of the men had opted for lightweight tailored shirts and trousersthey werent about to get their clothing or their hair wet. Lara didnt care. Her hair was down, and her white halter dress, sandals and a shawl could handle a little moisture.

Lara had discovered that Miami was most beautiful by night. Darkness hid the seedy faults of certain areas, while the lights highlighted the shimmer of the water and the many fantastic skyscrapers downtown. Lights on the many causeways and bridges created a stunning combination of dazzling colors.

So much here was so beautifuluntil a body part showed up.

She gave herself a shake, trying not to think about what had happened earlier. Theyd kept Sea Life closed throughout the day while the authorities had done a thorough search of the facility, but the police had assured them that they could go on with tonights gala and open the following day.

Which was good, since they were fully booked for every swim and encounter, many of those reservations made after word had leaked of Cocoas discoveries.

Apparently the public was slightly ghoulish.

And since the news was out, theyd decided to bite the bullet and answer any questions honestly, giving what information they could, which wasnt much. A finger and a foot had been found in the lagoon. The police and other agencies had conducted a thorough search for additional body parts but had found nothing else. More information would be forthcoming pending the investigation.

It was easy for Lara to say that she didnt know anything, because she really didnt.

Now she looked around and took time to really appreciate everything that had been put together to make the evening special. The interns had done a fabulous job of arranging colorful plants around the open square, decorating the tableseach one held a vase filled with shells and a candleand creating an elegant ambiance by the sea. Rain might have ruined everything, but theyd lucked out. No rain that night. Just the perfect breeze, the moonlight and the occasional sound of a dolphin calling from the nearby lagoon. Lara had worked on the menu to make sure there were delicacies for everyone. Sonia Larson was a vegetarian, Mason Martinez lived a gluten-free lifestyle and Ely Taggerly was in his early seventies and on salt restrictions, while Grant Blackwood was a forty-year-old Texan who had made his millions in the oil industry and still liked a good steak.

Rick and Adrianna Laramie were pescatarians, eating fish but nothing warm-blooded. As they said, fish ate fish, and so did their dolphins, so they had no problem eating fish, too. Everyone elseboth guests and staffate just about anything.

Lara was proud that shed managed to create a gourmet menu that accommodated everyone thereand cheaply. She had enlisted an up-and-coming Key West chef who had just won a cable-series cooking challenge. He and his family would enjoy a special day with the trainers and Grady Miller, and the meal would be compliments of the chef, who, as an added bonus, was featured in all their PR material.

She looked over to see what was going on in the dining area. A local jazz trio was providing free entertainment. Sonia Larsonpetite, dark haired and gorgeous in a teensy-tiny black dress that probably only she could wearwas holding a wineglass in her delicate fingers as she laughed at something Ely Taggerly had said. Grant Blackwood, standing next to Sonia, let out a deep bellow of laughter. Dr. Amory was with them, being his suave and charming self. Grady Miller and the rest of the staff were circulating, making sure every guest felt special, valued. Rick and Adrianna were chatting with Kevin and Diana Valentine, locals who owned a chain of drug and convenience stores, and sponsored their special events for veterans and their families. The café staff were supposed to be guests, but shed noticed that they were still picking up empty plates and cups when they found them. That made her smile. Everyone here loved the place.

Everything appeared to be going exceptionally well. Both Ely Taggerly and Mason Martinez had shown themselves to be interested not only in the centers general research but in what research into dolphin physiology and health could carry over into the field of human health, where both men made their living. EEG research had shown that half of the dolphin brain slept while the other half remained awake, seeing to it that they continued to surface as necessary to breathe.

She decided to take a moment longer and enjoy the caress of the mist blower. Closing her eyes, she let the fine droplets and the gentle breeze wrap her in cool comfort.

She loved her new world, despite the trauma of the day.

There had been so many law enforcement personnel on site that she hadnt even met them all, but everyone had been nice, except for Agent Cody. And it wasnt that hed been rude or anything. Hed just been so...intense. As if what had happened was a personal affront to him. Brusque. That might be a way to describe the man. Curt, or maybe tightly wound. Kind of a shame. Both he and his partner were certainly striking looking, the kind who made you look when they walked in. One had asked that she call him by his given name and not Special Agent McCullough. Hed grinned when hed told her that his name was Diego and explained that his mom had been a Cuban immigrant at the tender age of two. Shed grown up in Miami and married the Anglo doctor shed met when she broke her foot playing soccer her senior year of college. Thats Miami for you, hed told her with another smile.

Shed liked that. And she liked him.

As to his partner...

The man hadnt had two words to say to her that werent directly concerned with the case. His features seemed to be composed of granite, totally immobile and incapable of expression. His eyes were almost black, they were so dark a brown, and while he ticked her off to no end, she couldnt help but feel something like a warm charge suffuse her when he gave her his intense stare.

Stick up his butt, she muttered softly to herself.

Time to get back to work. The day was almost over. Cocoas discovery would be the talk of the town for several days, and then something else would capture the publics imagination. And as far as she was concerned, that was a very good thing.

She opened her eyes. And started.

He was there. The agent. Not Diego, but stick-up-the-butt Agent Cody.

She wondered how long he had been standing there right in front of her.

And she wondered just how loudly she had spoken.

She flat-out stared at him for several seconds, stunned to see him.

Agent Cody, she said finally. Well. How nice. Youre back. Just in time for the fund-raiser.

Im not here for the fund-raiser, he told her.

Thats a pity. The food is excellent, she said, and then shook her head. Look, Agent Cody, this place readily turned itself inside out for you today, and were willing to do anything to help. But tonights event is very important for us.

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