Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

badge, she looked uneasy as she flipped through more files on her desk. “I’m not sure this is right, you know. Patient confidentiality is paramount,” she said, deadpan, pausing with the file in her hand.

Lazlo didn’t have time for sitting on the fence. He snatched it from her and gave her a wink as if to say, ‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’

He scanned through the notes with Tom Stevens looking over his shoulder. The cause of death had been certified as severe head trauma due to a collision. Death was most likely instantaneous, and the first responders had been unsuccessful in providing CPR. Further notes stated that the victim had been heavily intoxicated and was covered in cuts and bruises. There was no mention of any drugs in his system.

“Where’s the body?” he asked the nurse.

She looked uncomfortable with the request but said she would check. She momentarily disappeared through a door with a keypad beside it, and was gone for some long minutes.

She reappeared and announced stiffly, “It was collected by the Sacred Heart Funeral Home.”

“And the address?” Lazlo demanded.

“They’re quite a ways from here. Twenty-two Marigold Street in Spring Valley.”

Lazlo had spent a lot of time studying El Gordito’s business operations, and he knew there was widespread speculation on the force that the Sacred Heart Funeral Home, with its crematorium on site, belonged to him. Such a setup would clearly be useful for destroying evidence.

Out in the parking lot, Lazlo called the funeral home, posing as a relative of Kendrick, and was informed that the cremation would take place at 11:30 a.m. that same day. Lazlo was shocked at the speed with which events were unfurling.

It was now 8:40 a.m. Sacred Heart was about forty miles away. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, which meant no rush hour. If he gunned his two-year-old Audi, they––if he could convince Tom to go too––could reach the funeral home in an hour and a half, with a little time to spare. He figured he could work his magic again and appeal to Stevens’s sense of altruism.

The Sacred Heart Crematorium, which stood at the rear of Greenwood Cemetery, was easy to recognize. It looked like a pretty stone chapel, save for a disproportionately large chimney at one end. Even the most casual viewer would be left with no doubt as to the actual purpose of the building: burning corpses.

Lazlo left the Audi in the guest parking area, and he and Stevens rushed toward the back of the chapel-like building, where they expected the ‘deliveries’ took place.

As they turned a corner, Lazlo suddenly halted, signaling to Tom with an outstretched arm to do the same. A security guard and another man dressed in a lab coat were standing with their backs to them. The man in the lab coat was also wearing some kind of thick, waterproof apron. They were smoking and admiring the view as the sun beat down over the gardens where ashes had been scattered by relatives.

Stevens and Lazlo slid quietly along the wall and moved quickly into what looked like the delivery area at the rear of the building. Lazlo was accustomed to the stress of undercover work, Stevens less so. His brow was damp and his hand shook as he reached for the handle to a grey-painted door.

It opened onto an empty corridor, and immediately, refrigerated air with a thick smell of embalming fluid and bleach hit them. Once inside, they tried all the doors, one by one. The third was unlocked, and when they walked through, they found themselves in the preparation area.

Two dead bodies were laid out on metal tables. The uncovered body was that of a woman, probably in her eighties. She lay there clad in a navy twin-set and crisp white blouse. Heavy make-up covered the ashen skin of her face, neck, and hands.

Next to her lay a body covered with a thin white sheet. Lazlo pulled it back, exposing the naked body of a man in his thirties. The age seemed to fit, and the bruises, cuts, and autopsy stitches seemed consistent with what they would expect to see. No makeup had been applied to cover the damage to his body, nor had he been embalmed. Lazlo checked the photo he had taken of Louise Kendrick’s smartphone screen showing a recent photo of her brother. There seemed to be a match despite the swelling and bruising to the face of the body but the name on the mortuary tag, attached to a toe, confirmed it. “Mark Kendrick,” he whispered with satisfaction. “Get to work, Tom,” he added.

Stevens carefully slipped on the pair of neoprene gloves he had brought with him. He studied then pointed to bruising and cuts on the cadaver’s face.

“These are consistent with a car accident. I’ve only seen this kind of damage in cases where an airbag failed to deploy and a seatbelt wasn’t used. But I don’t think all the bruising happened at the same time. From their appearance most of the larger bruises and cuts, including the lacerations from the windshield fragments, occurred postmortem,” he whispered.

“So, someone put his corpse in the car and crashed it?”

Stevens furrowed his brow and wiped the sweat from it. “That’s what the body seems to be telling me…The bruises to his arms and legs are different. Not only do they appear to have occurred prior to death but they are consistent with attempts to manhandle and restrain our friend here by a number of persons. Judging by the severity of bruising I would say this guy put up an extraordinary fight.”

“Like he was on something that could have given him the illusion of being stronger than he was by blocking out any feelings of pain. Like a hallucinogen?” suggested Lazlo.

“It’s a possibility, but without a tox screen we’re just guessing here. But an overdose could cause, for instance, a massive heart attack, which could be a scenario for the real cause of death. But it’s impossible to be sure without opening him up again.”