Read Online Dangerous Attachments (Dr. Sylvia Strange Book 1) by Sarah Lovett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Lovett
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not finished," she said. When he disappeared with his coffeepot, Rosie relaxed her body and exposed the plastic baggie tucked next to her breakfastplate. "If this is a human ear, then I have to seriously consider the likelihood that it came from my body snatcher."
"It's human," Sylvia said.
"What's the rest of this stuff? A ring, hair, teeth . . . a gallstone?
Jesus
. It's a medicine pouch, isn't it? I've seen Native Americans who keep something like this."
Sylvia lowered her voice. "A medicine pouch . . . or a collection of trophies."
"How nice," Rosie deadpanned.
Unconsciously, Sylvia caught a lock of hair in her fingers and twisted it tight. "Quantico's Behavioral Science Services Unit differentiates . . . organized killers take their victims' wallets, rings, keys—anything that might help the cops. Later, they use those souvenirs to relive the
glow
. Disorganized killers might collect hair or body parts to make a blender pick-me-up."
Rosie stuffed a last bite of sopaipilla into her mouth. "Sylvia, please . . ."
"I see it two ways," Sylvia said abruptly. She raised her index finger. "It's a mojo or medicine pouch used to ward off or to inflict evil." She lifted her middle finger. "It contains trophies that can be traced to victims."
Rosie made a face and said, "The only thing that isn't in the pouch is Angel's missing pinkie. What? You've got that look!"
Sylvia stared at the pouch. "If this belongs to Lucas then my guess is category number one: mojo pouch. He's paranoid and he needs something to ward off the psychic evil all around him." She shook her head. "What will you do with all this?"
"Send the ear over to the D.P.S. Crime Lab. Then I'll question Anderson to see if I can confirm who thepouch belongs to. If I connect Lucas with Tapia's missing finger, I'll call in the state police and notify the parole board." Rosie crossed her arms under her breasts and stared at Sylvia. "But after last night, I don't think Lucas has a prayer with the board. I saw your evaluation, Sylvia. Lucas will blame you."
Sylvia nodded. "Sounds like he already has." Not to mention his father, she thought.
Rosie pushed her plate away and reached for her purse where she carefully stowed the baggie and its contents. "I promised Ray I wouldn't miss the entire football game—the Boys reaming somebody."
"Brunch is on me."
"Thanks." Rosie slid her way out of the booth. "Want to come watch football?"
"I'm going to do some work on your body snatcher." Sylvia held up a hand. "By the way, in your office you mentioned a missing hand, a missing nose. Who lost an ear?"
Rosie punched an arm into her down overcoat. She caught her belt and pulled it tight at the waist. "As far as I know, nobody. An ear certainly seems like something you'd miss."
S YLVIA STOOD IN the hall in Main's hospital and peered through a window. The tiny treatment room was empty except for a small examination table and a porcelain sink. The next room was just as small and packed to overflowing with a nurse, a C.O., and an inmate.
Sylvia left the treatment area and continued down the hall to the room where Angel Tapia had been quarantined when the body snatcher struck. The door was open and the room contained a hospital bed stripped ofbedding, a chair, and built-in metal cabinets that lined the wall opposite the door. The trash had been emptied, the floor had been mopped, and the room smelled strongly of disinfectant
Sylvia entered, closed the door, sat in the chair, and looked up. The ceiling tiles were water-stained and corners had begun to curl. She imagined that Angel Tapia knew those stains by heart. There was nothing else to look at if you were lying down, nothing except the green floor, the green walls. She idly pondered institutional green; was it a product of World War II surplus?
She closed her eyes and focused on the muffled voices coming from the treatment cubicles. A female voice carried through plaster and concrete block. Otherwise, this room was
"It's human," Sylvia said.
"What's the rest of this stuff? A ring, hair, teeth . . . a gallstone?
Jesus
. It's a medicine pouch, isn't it? I've seen Native Americans who keep something like this."
Sylvia lowered her voice. "A medicine pouch . . . or a collection of trophies."
"How nice," Rosie deadpanned.
Unconsciously, Sylvia caught a lock of hair in her fingers and twisted it tight. "Quantico's Behavioral Science Services Unit differentiates . . . organized killers take their victims' wallets, rings, keys—anything that might help the cops. Later, they use those souvenirs to relive the
glow
. Disorganized killers might collect hair or body parts to make a blender pick-me-up."
Rosie stuffed a last bite of sopaipilla into her mouth. "Sylvia, please . . ."
"I see it two ways," Sylvia said abruptly. She raised her index finger. "It's a mojo or medicine pouch used to ward off or to inflict evil." She lifted her middle finger. "It contains trophies that can be traced to victims."
Rosie made a face and said, "The only thing that isn't in the pouch is Angel's missing pinkie. What? You've got that look!"
Sylvia stared at the pouch. "If this belongs to Lucas then my guess is category number one: mojo pouch. He's paranoid and he needs something to ward off the psychic evil all around him." She shook her head. "What will you do with all this?"
"Send the ear over to the D.P.S. Crime Lab. Then I'll question Anderson to see if I can confirm who thepouch belongs to. If I connect Lucas with Tapia's missing finger, I'll call in the state police and notify the parole board." Rosie crossed her arms under her breasts and stared at Sylvia. "But after last night, I don't think Lucas has a prayer with the board. I saw your evaluation, Sylvia. Lucas will blame you."
Sylvia nodded. "Sounds like he already has." Not to mention his father, she thought.
Rosie pushed her plate away and reached for her purse where she carefully stowed the baggie and its contents. "I promised Ray I wouldn't miss the entire football game—the Boys reaming somebody."
"Brunch is on me."
"Thanks." Rosie slid her way out of the booth. "Want to come watch football?"
"I'm going to do some work on your body snatcher." Sylvia held up a hand. "By the way, in your office you mentioned a missing hand, a missing nose. Who lost an ear?"
Rosie punched an arm into her down overcoat. She caught her belt and pulled it tight at the waist. "As far as I know, nobody. An ear certainly seems like something you'd miss."
S YLVIA STOOD IN the hall in Main's hospital and peered through a window. The tiny treatment room was empty except for a small examination table and a porcelain sink. The next room was just as small and packed to overflowing with a nurse, a C.O., and an inmate.
Sylvia left the treatment area and continued down the hall to the room where Angel Tapia had been quarantined when the body snatcher struck. The door was open and the room contained a hospital bed stripped ofbedding, a chair, and built-in metal cabinets that lined the wall opposite the door. The trash had been emptied, the floor had been mopped, and the room smelled strongly of disinfectant
Sylvia entered, closed the door, sat in the chair, and looked up. The ceiling tiles were water-stained and corners had begun to curl. She imagined that Angel Tapia knew those stains by heart. There was nothing else to look at if you were lying down, nothing except the green floor, the green walls. She idly pondered institutional green; was it a product of World War II surplus?
She closed her eyes and focused on the muffled voices coming from the treatment cubicles. A female voice carried through plaster and concrete block. Otherwise, this room was
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