The Hundredth Man Read Free Page B

features were too small for his head, and for a moment he disappeared beneath his own palm.
    â€œFag revenge killing,” Squill said, glancing at the body. “Love tohack, don’t they? Good place to do it, park’s copacetic after dark. It’s a yuppie-puppie neighborhood; Councilwoman Philips lives two blocks down; street gets overpatrolled to keep her in happy world . . .”
    I’d heard Squill had a speech mode for every crowd. With uniformed cops a dozen feet away he was spewing cop-movie jargon. Disheartening, I thought, a seventeen-year police administrator acting like a cop instead of just being one.
    â€œÂ . . . killer thumps the vic’s melon or pops a cap. The perp pulls his blade and scores a head.” Squill pointed to the bushes around us. “Unsub dropped him here so the body’d stay out of sight.”
    I fought the compulsion to roll my eyes. Unsub was short for “unknown subject” and the FBI types used it a lot. Unsub was fedjarg.
    â€œKilled and beheaded here?” I asked.
    â€œSomething wrong with your ears, Ryder?” Squill said.
    Though the body lay partly beneath a bush decorated with small white blossoms, it was free of petals. Just outside the scene tape was a stand of the same bushes; I walked over and fell into them.
    â€œWhat the hell’s he doing?” Squill snapped.
    I stood and studied the drifting of petals down the front of my shirt. Hembree looked between me and the body.
    â€œIf the vic fell through the bushes he’d have petals on him, but they’re”—he studied the corpse and the ground—“they’re around the body but not on it. The perp brushed aside the branches, so nothing fell on the corpse. Like maybe our friend here was pulled into the bushes.”
    I looked deeper into the vegetation. “Or out of them.”
    Squill said, “Delusional. Why pull the body out of deeper cover?”
    Hembree’s chunky assistant produced a flashlight and bellied beneath the bushes. “Lemme see what’s back there.”
    Squill glared at me. “The unsub lured the vic here and dropped him where the body stayed hidden in the bushes, Ryder. If it wasn’t for a couple horny teens, it would’ve stayed hid until the stink started.”
    â€œI’m not sure it’s hidden,” I said, cupping my hands around myeyes to blot the scene lights and looking through oak limbs and Spanish moss at a bright streetlamp fifteen yards distant. I crouched beside the body and saw the streetlamp boxed between branches.
    â€œCan we cut the lights?” I asked.
    Squill slapped his head theatrically. “No, Ryder. We got work to do and can’t do it with white canes and leader dogs.” He looked at the uniforms for his laugh track but they were staring at the streetlamp.
    Hembree said, “Lights turn back on, y’know.”
    Squill had no control over the techs and hated it. He turned and whispered something to Burlew. I was sure Squill’s mouth shaped the word nigger.
    Hembree yelled to an assistant in the forensics van. “Tell the EMTs and cruisers to douse their lights. Then kill these.”
    The lights from the vehicles disappeared, leaving only the portable lamps. When they went black it took our eyes several seconds to adjust. I saw what I’d expected: The streetlamp sent a thin band of light through the branches and between two large bushes, a spotlight on the body.
    â€œIt’s not hidden,” Hembree said, checking angles. “Anyone coming around the bend in the path looks right at it. Hard to miss with the white shirt.”
    â€œSpeculative bullshit,” Squill said.
    The tech squirming through the bushes yelled, “Got fresh blood back here, bring me a kit and a camera.”
    â€œDropped in the dark, dragged into light,” Hembree said, winking at me. The uniforms nodded their approval. When the scene lights snapped