“I was wondering that myself. Think she’s hiding something?”
Nate considered the question for a moment. “Could be. But I don’t see her being involved in these deaths. We’ve been fishing bodies out of the bayou every seven days like clockwork. And while she may have the upper-body strength to overpower the smaller victims, there’s no way she could have handled that bruiser we found two days ago.”
“Good point. But she could have had help.”
“Besides,” Nate went on, ignoring him, “what these victims went through after they died...” He shuddered briefly. “It takes a lot of isolated space to inflict that kind of damage. Not to mention time. And she hasn’t been missing work, or acting unusual.”
“Again, she could have a partner.” Owen didn’t believe it, either, but they did have to consider every possibility, no matter how remote.
Nate gave him a droll look. “Uh-huh. And I have a Lamborghini in the garage.”
Owen merely shrugged.
“You know as well as I do that she’s not involved. She doesn’t have it in her to do that to someone.”
“I hope you’re right. We still need to look into it though.”
His partner let out an inelegant snort. “Don’t sound so broken up about it.”
Owen ignored the gibe, but he didn’t try to hide the smile that curved his lips. The thought of seeing the lovely professor again gave him something to look forward to, and given the way this case was going, he’d take his pleasure where he could find it.
The Harris County Institute of Forensic Science was a six-story redbrick cube on a tree-lined street near the Medical City area of Houston. Hannah parked in one of the visitor spaces and made her way to Gabby’s office, where she found her friend typing madly and staring at her computer monitor wearing an expression of fierce concentration.
Hannah hovered in the doorway, waiting for a break to interrupt Gabby. It didn’t take long. With a few muttered curses, Gabby punched at the keyboard, then leaned back, her brows drawn down in a frown. Seeing her chance, Hannah coughed quietly.
Gabby looked up, her scowl melting into a smile when she saw Hannah. “Hey! Come on in.”
Hannah stepped into the small office and extended her arm, offering Gabby the extra cup of coffee she’d brought. “You sure I’m not interrupting?”
Her friend took the cup and gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Saving me, more like. I’m up to my eyeballs in reports.” She took a sip, closed her eyes in appreciation. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem. I figured you could use some caffeine.”
“You know it. So how’d it go yesterday?”
Hannah sat in the lumpy chair and shifted to find a comfortable position. “It would have gone a lot better if I’d listened to your message first. I was totally thrown by the whole thing.”
Gabby grimaced in sympathy. “Sorry about that. I should have texted you, too, but I didn’t have time. Were they at least nice to you?”
“I suppose. One more than the other.”
“Let me guess—Detective Gallagher was friendlier?”
“You got it.”
Gabby nodded and set her cup on the desk. “I figured. Detective Randall can be a little...intense.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Goose bumps broke out on her arms as she recalled the feeling of his dark blue eyes on her. “What’s his story?” She tried to make the question sound casual, but she and Gabby had been friends for a long time, and the other woman didn’t miss a trick.
“Oh, so it’s like that?” she teased. Hannah rolled her eyes and looked away, shaking her head.
“Seriously, Hannah. I’m glad you’re showing some interest. How long has it been since you’ve gone on a date?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, exasperation bleeding into her voice. “About a year, maybe?”
“Probably more like a year and a half,” Gabby retorted. “I know you haven’t seen anyone since Jake the Snake left.” She took a sip of her coffee and muttered, “Good riddance.”
Hannah smiled despite the pang that stabbed through her chest at the thought of her ex-fiancé. “Since when are you so obsessed with my love life?”
“Since you’re my friend and I care about you.” Gabby gave her a level stare, then smiled. “I just want you to be happy. And while I don’t know much about Detective Broody McGrumpyPants, he is handsome. You could definitely do worse.”
“I didn’t say I was going to be doing anything,” Hannah protested weakly.
Gabby gave her a wicked smile. “Oh, but you should. Doing things can be so much fun.”
“Gabby!” Hannah chastised. “Don’t be so vulgar.”
Her friend’s laugh was full-throated and rich, and it filled the room in a warm wave of sound. “Oh, honey. We’re not in a British period piece. Lighten up a bit.” She picked up her coffee and winked at her. “You’re too young to be so prim.”
Hannah focused on her own coffee, hoping the steam would explain the sudden redness in her cheeks. Gabby had always been the more outgoing one, quick with a clever comeback or play on words. Sometimes Hannah envied her friend’s ability to think on her feet. She was more deliberate, more cautious in her approach to conversations. Where Gabby was outgoing and friendly, Hannah was reserved and shy. More than once, she had marveled at their unlikely friendship, but at the end of the day, she knew their bond was unbreakable.
“Why don’t you tell me about these victims?”
Gabby leaned back in her chair, her playful smile fading as she turned her focus to business. “I don’t have much to share, unfortunately. There have been six deaths so far, one every week, and the pathology findings suggest they’re linked.”
“In what way?”
“The victims all suffered extensive trauma, and a lot of it occurred after death.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty terrible things in my job, but these victims really take the cake.”
Hannah grimaced, revulsion making her stomach roil. “If the injuries were that severe, why did you look for chemical traces?”
“Because I think the extensive external injuries were inflicted to distract from the real cause of death.”
“And you found something?” It was a silly question—of course she had. That’s why the detectives had paid her a visit yesterday.
Gabby bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Yep. I’m really good at my job.”
Hannah couldn’t help but smile in return. “So if they didn’t die from physical injuries, you think it was the chemical that killed them?”
Her friend tapped her index finger on the tip of her nose. “It’s the only way I can explain the internal findings. As if the external injuries weren’t bad enough, when I opened them up, things got really strange.”
“How so?”
“Their lungs were totally wrecked. They didn’t even look like lungs anymore—they were disintegrating before my eyes.”
Hannah leaned forward a bit. “What do you mean?”
Gabby frowned and stared at the table. She cupped her hands and pantomimed a scooping gesture. “The chest cavity was filled with fluid. Like their lung tissue had dissolved.” She shook her head. “I’ve never