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

He frowned before continuing. “It’s clear to anyone with some M.E. experience that this guy was already dead before the...” His voice trailed off as he noticed something.

“Wait a goddamn second––”

“What is it?”

Stevens pointed to the upper body and the standard Y-shaped incision made during an autopsy. “Look at the stitches,” he said, pointing to the diagonal ones, forming the ‘V’ part of the Y-cut. “See how cleanly the edges of the flesh butt up against one another? and how all the stitches pass tightly through the flesh?”

Lazlo nodded.

“Now look at these.” Stevens pointed to the stitching of the long cut below the ‘V.’ Do you see that there are a mixture of new holes and old stitch holes which are wider, like they have been pulled by the stitches? And here where the edges of the cut are less even because in some places the stitch holes have ripped?” He waited for Lazlo to lean in to take a closer look.

“So, this long cut was re-opened and re-stitched?” Lazlo asked. “Appears to be the case.”

“Two autopsies then?”

“Could be, not all M.E.s favor the Y-cut.”

“Which means the first autopsy could have been carried out with a single long cut along the body and then the second time the body was re-opened, the M.E could have added the diagonal cuts?”

“But if it was a case of two autopsies, then between them, the body suffered some kind of trauma that blew some of the first set of stitches. I’m pretty sure the elongation or ripping of the stitch holes are not the result of, say, poor stitching.”

“Like the trauma of a car accident?”

“That could do it; so could the body being dropped.”

“So, the accident could have been staged to cover up a cause of death which had been discovered in the earlier autopsy?”

Stevens shrugged. “I just know the guy was fighting against being restrained before he died and his chest was opened up twice. I’m theorizing that it happened once before the trauma and then again after it.”

Just then, they heard footsteps and voices coming along the corridor. Stevens slid off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pocket.

Lazlo had left the door to the corridor cracked open, and as he peered through it, he saw a guard and a man in the lab coat and apron walking toward him. They were arguing—saying something about a woman. They stopped for a second to face each other as the argument escalated.

“Get back to work, both of you!” barked a deep voice, coming from somewhere out of Lazlo’s field of view.

Lazlo could only see the reaction of the men. They stopped their conversation immediately and sheepishly walked off in opposite directions.

Lazlo breathed a sigh of relief and beckoned to Stevens, who had turned pale with fear and was now swearing under his breath. With one hand on the door handle, Lazlo opened the door farther and slowly squeezed his head between the door and the frame to peer out into the corridor. All was quiet. He inched his head out more, hoping to crane his neck around the door and see in the other direction.

At that moment, he felt the cold metal of a gun muzzle pushing into the side of his head. He slowly turned to see the barrel of a Glock handgun, held by a man in a black suit. It pressed against his forehead, pushing him back into the room. Black Suit had been followed inside by another man in a suit.

“What are you two sickos doing?” the second suited man said.

Lazlo fumbled for his badge and pulled it out, motioning for the gun now pointing at him to be holstered.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a warrant, officer, since you didn’t announce your visit. You understand, we are acting in self-defense. You’d be surprised how many deviants come in here.”

“It’s ‘detective,’” Lazlo corrected.

“Well, detective, your supervisor will be hearing from me. I think you know the way out, but in case you’ve forgotten, my colleague here, with the gun, will escort you.”

Lazlo walked out slowly with Stevens, who followed with his head hanging like that of a beaten dog.

They got into the Audi, and the armed guard stood waiting for them to drive off.

“You’ve cost me my job, goddamn it, Lazlo!” hissed Stevens.

“Tom, just take a breath. This goes much further than the fake autopsy. Trust me! You are helping to expose a network of corruption, and once we get to the bottom of it all, you will be vindicated.”

Stevens let loose another string of expletives while the guard banged the palm of his hand on the roof of the car impatiently. Lazlo started the engine and waved to the guard, signaling he was going. At the same time, with his phone already out, he discreetly hit the speed dial to Captain Tony Ruzek. He put the phone to his ear as if taking a call and shrugged at the guard, who had now bent over to look through the car window.

The line rang, and the captain answered. Before Lazlo could start saying anything, his boss declared, “You better not be doing anything even remotely connected with Vargas!”

“Chief, I can’t give you the full details, but we need to stop a cremation.”

“Christ almighty!” the chief sighed. His comment was almost immediately followed by the sound of the guard shouting at Lazlo to move. The man banged on the window.

“What’s that noise?”

“Nothing. Hear me out, chief, please.”

“Go on,” the chief said reluctantly.

“Remember the Kendrick case? The guy who disappeared, and died about twenty-four hours later in a car crash? I’m pretty sure he didn’t die because of hitting the wall. He died earlier and then someone placed his body in a car and drove it into a wall to make it look like an accident.”

“Can you prove it?” the chief interrupted.

“Not without another autopsy.”

“Who is the M.E. on the report?”

“Rachel Wallace.”

“What? You want to discredit the Chief M.E.’s report based on a hunch, a half-baked theory? Are you nuts?”

“Chief, Wallace