Progeny Read Free Page B

said.
    “What’s that?” I asked.
    “I’ll let Ed go over it with you,” Rick said.
    Ed removed the gloves he wore and went to the sink to wash up. He spoke over the sound of the running faucet. “The incisions that removed the skin were surgical in nature. You can see it clearly—definitely a scalpel. The same tool was used to cut the man’s throat.”
    “That was the cause of death?” I asked.
    Ed shook his head, bumped the faucet off with the back of his wrist, and dried his hands. “No. We have ligature marks in the muscle around his neck. It looks like he was choked with something thin, electrical cord or something of that nature. I believe the cut to the throat from the scalpel was to drain the blood.”
    I didn’t respond.
    Ed pointed at the body. “Same scalpel for the skin though, like I said. You can see how neat the cuts are around the ears.”
    I looked at the cuts. They were indeed neat and precise.
    Ed stepped back to us, across the table that the man’s body lay upon.
    “Anything to help us with an identification?” I asked.
    “We have a tissue sample for DNA. That’s about it, aside from a height, weight, approximate age, and race,” Rick said.
    “So what are those?” I asked.
    “Seventies, from what I can tell. I have the height at five-seven. The weight of the remains is one hundred and ninety-one. Probably a few pounds more with the skin and blood.”
    I pulled my notepad from my suit pocket and jotted down what Ed had told me.
    “Tox screen?” I asked.
    “We’re still waiting on it… but…” Ed let out a breath and scooped up a folder from the stainless-steel shelf running along the wall. “Have a look at this.”
    He handed me the folder. I flipped it open and thumbed through the first couple pages. They appeared to be old documents of some sort. I stopped when I reached the photos.
    “I was the assistant medical examiner for the Redding murders. I had Brenda dig through our archives and find the file,” Ed said.
    I looked at the photos of four men. They were all identical.
    “Look here,” Ed said. He pointed at the areas of skin remaining on our corpse and then at the corresponding images in the folder. “See that?” he asked. “Identical. And look here.” Ed pointed at the legs of the man on the table and then at the photos. “You see the damage to the leg muscles here?” That’s where they were hung.”
    “Hung?” I asked.
    “Hung upside down to drain the blood while the skin was removed.”
    I was quiet, looking for words. “So, um, we have a copycat. Is that what you’re saying?” I asked.
    “It’s damn near perfect,” Ed said.
    I flipped the folder closed. “I didn’t live down here when this was going on. How much did the press actually know? How many of the details were actually distributed?” I asked.
    Ed scratched his bushy eyebrows. “Never any specifics, Kane.”
    “That’s leaving us a couple options.” I took a moment and thought about it further. “Someone on the inside got access to either your or the police’s files. Redding shared his methods with someone, or he had an accomplice. Whatever the exact scenario is, someone is out recreating his work.”
    Ed nodded. “If they are, we’ll be seeing more bodies. And I doubt it was from our end, as far as the files go.”
    “How are you so certain?”
    “We store our archives here. I’m the only person who has the key, and this is the only file. Someone would have had to get in and make copies or memorize this file without my knowledge. It’s just not that likely is all I’m saying.”
    I thumbed the folder back open and searched for dates on the sheets but didn’t see any. “Where are the dates on these, Ed?”
    He peered around the side of my shoulder and flipped back to the first page. “These first couple are overviews.” He thumbed four or five pages in. “There you go.” Ed’s finger landed on a date, April 10, 1984. “Thirty years ago today,” he said.
    I thumbed