career. He might even become a suspect. After all, didn’t he coincidentally happen to be
in the area every time one of these bodies turned up? He nervously glanced around him,
wondering if this might remotely occur to anyone. Dr. Odom was busy giving Hammer
and West his opinions.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” the medical examiner was saying.
“Jesus Christ.”
He ripped off his gloves, and wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.
He cast about, looking for a receptacle for biological hazards.
Catching the eye of Denny Raines, he gave the paramedic a nod, and the big, handsome
guy came through with his stretcher and crew. Raines winked at West, drinking in the
sexy sight of her in uniform. She was pretty unbelievable, and Hammer was hot, too.
Brazil’s eyes fixed on Raines. Brazil got a strange feeling as he watched the over built
ambulance attendant eyeing West and Hammer. Brazil wasn’t sure what the problem
was, but he was suddenly anxious and a little sick to his stomach. He wanted to get in
Raines’s face, beg him to start something so Brazil could finish it, or at least order Raines
to leave the scene.
“Well, it’s all yours now,” Dr. Odom went on to Hammer as stretcher legs clacked.
“I’m not releasing a damn thing to the media. Never do.
Any statement will have to come from you. ”
“We’re not releasing his identity tonight.” Hammer was adamant.
“Not until he’s been positively identified.”
There was no doubt in her mind. His driver’s license was on the floor of the Maxima, on
the passenger’s side. Hammer recognized the senator’s imposing stature, the gray hair
and goatee, and heavy face.
He hadn’t survived long enough to have tissue response to his horrendous injuries, no
swelling or bruising. Butler did not look so different from when Hammer had seen him
last, at a cocktail party in Myers Park. She was terribly upset and determined that it
would not show. She approached Brazil. He was prowling around the car, taking notes.
“Andy,” she said, touching his arm.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how sensitive this is.”
He got still, looking at her as if she were the reason people went to church every Sunday.
She was God. Hammer was distracted as her gaze wandered inside the car, to the black
leather briefcase stamped with the gold initials K. O. B. It was in back, open, as were
an overnight bag and a suit bag, everything dumped out. She made a silent inventory of
keys, a calculator, US Air peanuts and tickets, a portable phone, pens, paper, address
book, Tic Tacs, lubricated Trojan condoms, shoes, socks, and Jockey shorts, all scattered
by hard, heartless hands.
“Are we sure it’s the senator?” Brazil managed to ask.
Hammer gave him her upset eyes again.
“Not sure enough for you to release that yet.”
“Okay,” he said.
“As long as you don’t give it to out to someone else first.”
“Never. You do the right thing, so will I,” she said the usual.
“Call me tomorrow at five p.m. I’ll give you a statement.”
She walked off. His eyes followed her as she left the crime scene, and
ducked under tape, walking briskly through the strobing blue and red night. Television crews, radio reporters, and mobs of reporters darted at her like barracuda. She waved
them off and got into her chief’s car. Brazil prowled some more, disturbed in a way he
did not understand as he got closer to where the senator had been killed. Raines and
other paramedics were carrying the body to the ambulance, and the Ace twenty-four-hour
towing and recovery truck was rolling in to haul the Maxima to the police department.
The ambulance beeped as it backed up, carrying the dead senator to the morgue while
cameras caught it all. Brent Webb watched Brazil with jealous eyes. It wasn’t fair Brazil
got such special treatment, and could wander around the crime scene with a flashlight as
if he belonged there. Brazil’s privileged position, his golden touch, would end soon
enough, Webb knew. The television reporter smoothed his perfect hair and lubricated his
lips with lip balm. He looked sincerely into the camera and told the world the latest