Chapter 1
Kenzie was starting to yawn, a sign she had been up for long enough and it was time to head to bed. She and Zachary had been watching an Unsolved Mysteries marathon, challenging themselves to come up with clues, investigative paths, and possible solutions to the various crimes. They skipped over the ones about UFOs, psychic events, or other paranormal mysteries, sticking to the ones about missing persons, murders, finding long-lost relatives, or exploring family history.
But Kenzie was beat. She was past the age when she could party all night long, or even wanted to. After midnight, she was ready to turn off the TV, put their dishes in the dishwasher, and brush her teeth. Her bed was calling.
Zachary noticed her smothering a yawn and raised his brows knowingly. “Last episode?” he suggested.
Kenzie nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’d love to watch more, but… my body has other ideas.”
Zachary rubbed his thick five o’clock shadow, bristles rasping. “We’d better solve this one, then; wouldn’t want to go to bed on a failure.”
“Well…” Kenzie covered another yawn. “Since the entire Cincinnati police force was not able to solve it in ten years, I think we can be forgiven for not being able to solve it based on a ten-minute summary and reenactment.”
“So, you don’t think that it was—”
Kenzie’s phone began to ring.
Not just the regular ringtone, but the loud, klaxon blare assigned to the police dispatcher that was designed to wake her from even the deepest sleep. Both of them jumped at the sudden loud alarm.
That meant there was a body to deal with, and Kenzie would not be going to sleep for a couple more hours. She rubbed her eyes and sighed before picking up the phone to get the details.
Zachary waited until she was back off the phone before asking, “You want to watch the end of this one before leaving?”
There were another two or three minutes left, and staying that much longer wouldn’t make any difference to either the police or the woman who had been killed, but Kenzie’s attention was no longer on it.
“You can watch the end of it, or we can rewatch it tomorrow. I’m going to head out.”
Zachary hit the stop button. “No problem. Do you want me to drive you?”
“No. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re not too tired to drive?” he persisted.
She had been yawning, so Zachary could be forgiven for pressing the point. Kenzie shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her face. “No. That alarm got the adrenaline pumping. I couldn’t go to sleep now if I wanted to. It’s only five minutes away. I won’t have time to get drowsy.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”
She didn’t bother telling him to go to sleep without her. He would wait up no matter what she said. And he slept little enough that waiting for her wouldn’t make any difference to his schedule. He would watch TV or putter away at a case on his computer until she returned.
Kenzie hated changing out of her comfortable jammies into day clothes, but she wasn’t going to show up at an accident scene looking like she’d just rolled out of bed. She changed into a business-professional outfit, reapplied her bright red lipstick, and grabbed her purse. Her small scene-of-crime kit was already in the car, and it didn’t sound like she would need anything more specialized for the scene she was going to.
* * *
The accident scene was only a couple of blocks from the police building, which happened to house the medical examiner’s office in the basement. They wouldn’t have far to transport the body. With a gurney, Kenzie could easily have walked the body to the morgue.
It was a spectacular wreck. Kenzie’s stomach clenched when she saw it. She had been at enough accident scenes before that it shouldn’t bother her, but the sight of the smashed, upside-down vehicle still affected her.
“Dr. Kirsch.” The young cop in charge of the scene probably recognized Kenzie by her red convertible and he didn’t require her to show her badge. “Looks like she managed to hit the center median at a pretty good velocity. It acted as a ramp, launching and spinning the car so that it landed on its roof.” He indicated both the place that it had hit the barrier, leaving bits of metal and glass behind, and then the car itself, which Kenzie didn’t need pointed out.
“Okay, thanks. Paramedics have examined her?” There was an ambulance standing by, red lights flashing. One of the paramedics was in the driver’s seat, and the other was leaning against it, smoking. Obviously, there was nothing for them to do; they were just waiting for Kenzie to officially declare the death and send them on their way.
“Yeah. Head injury from being thrown around. Maybe a broken neck. There wasn’t anything they could do for her when they got here.”
Kenzie signed her name to the log, put on booties and gloves, and walked over to the lone car, upside down like a ladybug in the middle of the street. The streetlights reflected eerily off the road. Firetrucks stood by. There was no smell of gasoline, but the car was pretty wrecked, and they were probably waiting to cut the door free so that the victim could be removed. As it was, Kenzie had access through the shattered driver’s side window. She reached in and touched the woman’s throat, probing for a pulse.
As expected, there was none. The body was still warm. Not an hour had elapsed since the driver had been speeding down the street toward her doom. Kenzie didn’t smell any alcohol, which surprised her. An accident like this was usually the result of drinking and driving.
Kenzie withdrew her hand and surveyed the rest of the vehicle, looking at the damage to the body, the deflated airbag, and the unfortunate woman with a mask of blood.
Kenzie’s first reaction to the accident was visceral, a flashback to the accident she and Zachary had been in after their first date. While the cops had initially speculated that it was the result of drunk driving, Zachary had not had anything to drink that night, and rarely did due to possible interactions with his medications. He didn’t take his antianxiety prescription or sleep aids every night, but knew that he couldn’t combine either of them with alcohol, so he rarely drank in case he would need to take one of them later.
Rather than being the result of drinking and driving, that accident had been caused by someone tampering with Zachary’s car. It, too, had landed upside down. Kenzie’s memories of getting her seatbelt undone, extricating herself from the wreck, calling for help, and trying to comfort Zachary, who was in and out of consciousness, were astonishingly clear. It had taken a long time, in very cold weather, for the police and firefighters to arrive and cut Zachary free. His injuries had been much more severe than Kenzie’s. She had some scrapes and bruises that had been sore for a few weeks, but he’d had a spinal injury and concussion that had made for a couple of scary days before it became clear that the spinal cord had only been bruised and not permanently damaged.
“Everything okay?” the young cop, hovering behind Kenzie asked.
She turned and looked at him, pulling herself away from the flashback and focusing on the present. She looked at his name bar to remind herself who he was. Though she had seen him around the police station or parking garage, they had not worked together. Daniels.
Even while dealing with her emotional reaction to the crash and the memories that forced themselves into her consciousness, she also maintained a sense of the dispassionate, clinical distance that was required to analyze the scene and the woman’s body and to start to build a picture of the mechanics of her death.
The victim was a tall, thin, white woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun. She wore a dress and simple jewelry and had probably been out on a date or at an event.
“Yes. Everything is fine. Do you have an ID on the victim? She looks familiar.”
One of the problems with living in a small town was that Kenzie sometimes did know the victims who ended up on her table. She was sure, looking at the limp, bloody figure hanging upside down in the car that she knew this woman. They had met previously, though Kenzie wasn’t sure where. It was sometimes difficult to recognize people in death; faces obscured by blood, facial bones broken, with no animation. She sometimes had to work at it to find the similarities to the person she had known in life or was trying to identify from a picture.
“License plate is registered to a Mariya Markov. Haven’t been able to verify she is the victim, but the picture on her driver’s license looks close enough.”
Mariya Markov.
Kenzie knew the name immediately. They had met more than once at fundraising events for the Kirsch family foundation. Kenzie had attended several galas at the behest of her mother, Lisa Cole Kirsch, and Dr. Markov had been an honored guest.
“Dr. Mariya Markov,” Kenzie told Daniels. “She is a preeminent nephrologist.” She shook her head. Her mother would be shocked to hear of Dr. Markov’s passing.
“A kidney doctor?” Daniels asked tentatively.
Kenzie nodded. “Yes, exactly. She was a great surgeon and researcher, at the forefront of kidney disease research and transplants.”
Daniels nodded gravely. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He looked over the wreck with fresh eyes, considering. “What do you think it was? Asleep at the wheel?”
That seemed more likely than drinking and driving. Dr. Markov might have been tired after putting in an eighteen-hour day or performing an eight-hour surgery.
“Could be,” she admitted. “We’ll have to see what the accident reconstruction guys and the autopsy show.” She sighed. “This is a great loss to the community.”
Chapter 2
Dr. Markov’s body was transported to the morgue as soon as it was freed from the vehicle, but Kenzie did not start on the autopsy that night. There was no need to rush into it, and when she had already put in a full day of work, she didn’t want to take the chance of making any mistakes due to fatigue. She would do the postmortem when she was fresh and could be sure not to miss anything.
Kenzie arrived at the office an hour later than usual, having intentionally slept in to try to make up for her late night. But it had taken her a while to get settled down for sleep once she was home, and then she had slept fitfully, her mind working away, analyzing the details she already knew about Dr. Markov’s accident.
Eventually, there hadn’t been any point in trying to sleep any longer. Kenzie would feel more tired from struggling to sleep and dealing with her thoughts, instead of feeling more rested. She had a couple of cups of coffee to get her motor running and headed in to the office.
Because she was late, Dr. Wiltshire was there ahead of her. Unlike Dr. Cook, who had substituted while Dr. Wiltshire was healing from a broken hand, Dr. Wiltshire usually arrived after Kenzie, allowing her time to get things organized and the morning emails and reports processed before he came in. Dr. Cook had always been there disconcertingly early, making Kenzie feel like she was running behind when she wasn’t.
“Morning, Kenzie,” Dr. Wiltshire greeted, smiling pleasantly. “How are you doing this lovely morning?”
Kenzie thought back to the weather as she had driven in. It had been a bright, clear, warm day, but she hadn’t even noticed it. Her mind had been far away.
“Good,” Kenzie told him. “Took a little extra time for sleep this morning, so I’m ready to go.”
“Excellent. I’ll let you get yourself together, and when you are ready for the autopsy, just let me know.”
“Thanks.” Kenzie sniffed the air. “You got coffee going?”
“I did remember how to start the machine,” he said wryly.
“See, you’re polishing up your skills already,” Kenzie told him.
Dr. Wiltshire had been doing physiotherapy to rehab his broken hand, but he figured nothing would help him regain his dexterity as quickly as getting back to work.
And the good thing about working on dead patients was that it wasn’t nearly as much of a problem if you accidentally nicked an artery during a procedure.
Dr. Wiltshire smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be at my desk if you happen to need me for any other complex tasks.”
* * *
After processing the daily influx of emails, interoffice mail, and packages she had received, Kenzie finished the last of her coffee and let Dr. Wiltshire know that she was ready to begin the postmortem.
“Did you know Dr. Markov?” Kenzie asked as she gowned up and made the final preparations to begin the postmortem on the body waiting for her.
Dr. Wiltshire shook his head. “We have probably met at some point, but not that I remember. We ran in different circles. She must have been in town for a function, since she operates out of Burlington.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured too. I don’t remember hearing about anything going on last night, and I usually do if it is related to kidney disease, but there must have been some reason for her to be in Roxboro.”
Once they were ready to start, Kenzie tapped the button on the floor to begin recording, then tapped it again to stop and looked at Dr. Wiltshire.
“Sorry, I’m just jumping right in here. You are the senior doctor; you will want to run things.”
He dismissed the idea with a wave.
“Not necessary,” he told her. “Go ahead. I’ll let you run the first few until I’m sure that these old fingers are going to perform the way they are supposed to. If I need a break partway through, it’s better if you are dictating, rather than having to switch partway through.”
“You’re sure? I can take a break anytime you want to, to maintain continuity.”
“Just go ahead, Dr. Kirsch. I’ll run the next one if I feel up to it.”
Kenzie nodded, sure that it was what Dr. Wiltshire wanted and she wasn’t stepping on his toes. She tapped the record button again, dictated the date, file number, patient name, and her and Dr. Wiltshire’s names. They began with the gross examination of the body, as always.
George had taken swabs of the skin for any trace evidence, being sure to get samples of blood or other bodily fluids or contaminants before washing the body in preparation for the postmortem.
Kenzie noticed again the deformity in Markov’s face from broken eye sockets and nose. There was a laceration down the side of her head from where it had hit the window or frame of the car during the rollover. Given that Markov was unresponsive when the first report came in and deceased upon the arrival of first responders, Kenzie would not be surprised to find some severe damage to the neck and spine. Markov had not had time to bleed out, especially not from that head lac, and there were no impalement, amputation, or other serious tissue injuries.
Kenzie dictated the injuries she could see for the recording, taking pictures of each. They would do full X-rays of the head, neck, and torso to see what other fractures had been caused by the accident or the airbag.
“This is odd,” Kenzie said, examining the bruising around Markov’s shoulders and upper arms. “Perimortem bruising. It had a chance to set in before she expired, so it was not from injuries sustained in the accident.”
Dr. Wiltshire leaned in to examine the bruising more closely, then brought the magnifying lens in for further examination. He nodded. “There is inflammation, which would not be the case if it was sustained during the accident. And the location of the bruises is not consistent with a seatbelt or airbag injury.”
“They look like restraint bruises.”
As if someone had been holding her still. Both by grasping her upper arms and by holding or pushing against her shoulders.
“We should check for any other indications of assault.”
Dr. Wiltshire agreed.
There were no other unexpected bruises or injuries apparent on the external examination. Rather than putting on a lead shield, Dr. Wiltshire left the room while Kenzie took a series of X-rays. He returned, and they reviewed the various fractures apparent on the monitors.
“Ribs and wrists from the airbag as well as the nose and orbits,” Dr. Wiltshire observed. “That is all to be expected.”
“And here,” Kenzie pointed to the vertebrae in the neck. “There is damage to the C4 and C5 from the rollover. She must have been going pretty fast. The competing forces from the rollover resulted in cervical spine fracture.”
Dr. Wiltshire agreed. He used the mouse to mark each of the breaks on the X-rays, and they looked for any other fractures that might have occurred during the accident or concurrent with the perimortem bruising. Everything seemed to be straightforward, with no other unexpected injuries.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2025 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
