Read Online Grave Situation by Alex MacLean - Free Book Online

spiral bound notebook.” Allan held his
own up. “Similar to this.”
    “Sure.”
    Coulter and Sodero gingerly rolled
the body, turning the dead man onto his back. Cautious of needles,
Coulter lightly patted each pocket before dipping his fingers
inside. The jacket pockets were empty. From a pants pocket came a
set of keys, some loose change. From another, a black wallet.
Coulter opened it to reveal cash and credit cards.
    “I guess we can rule out robbery,”
he said. “There’s no notebook on the body, Lieutenant. Only a pen
in the breast pocket.”
    Great, thought Allan. Now
where’d that go? With the killer?
    “Do you have a time set for the
autopsy?” he asked.
    “Do you want to
attend?”
    “If I may.”
    Coulter smiled. “Too impatient to
wait for my report?”
    “You know me, Doctor. I like to be
provided with as much info as early into the investigation as
possible.”
    “Does eleven o’clock sound
feasible?”
    Allan checked his watch. “Eleven
should be fine.”
    “See you there.”
    Allan stood off to the side as
Coulter tied paper bags over the dead man’s hands to protect any
surface trace evidence, locks of hair or skin tags in the event he
had struggled with his attacker. Before putting the body into a
black bag, he and Sodero wrapped it in a clean sheet of polythene
and secured it with tape.
    Allan watched them carry the gurney
to the back of Coulter’s van and slide it inside. In quick
succession, they slammed the doors shut.
    Coulter lifted his hand in a wave
and shouted, “See you at eleven.”
    Just then, someone else called out,
“Lieutenant.”
    Allan turned to his right and saw
Jim kneeling over something at the edge of the parking
lot.
    Jim waved him over.
    “What’d you find?” Allan asked as
he approached him.
    “Blood.” Jim pointed down to a
series of red drops. “A fresh trail of it.”
    Together, the two men followed
them. Spaced roughly two feet apart, the blood moved across the
remainder of the parking lot toward the tugboat wharf, then past
the ECTUG building where it came to a halt at the end of the wharf.
The bleeder had obviously stopped there for some time. The last
drop was much larger than the rest, over an inch in diameter. That
suggested blood dripping into blood.
    “The trail ends here,” remarked
Allan, peering out at the Halifax harbor.
    The smell of sea salt was strong.
Under the climbing sun, the water sparkled. Gulls circled the
public boardwalk nearby. Beneath the sound of lapping water came
their faint cries.
    Jim kneeled down and began
measuring the drops. His camera dangled from a strap around his
neck.
    “The coarse texture of the cement
destroyed the shapes of these stains.” He shook his head,
frustrated. “They’re too distorted to accurately determine the
angle of impact. Measurements mean nothing. These are passive
drops, however, acting on gravity alone. But they didn’t come from
someone who was bleeding profusely.” He paused a moment, looking at
the sky. “I’m going to have to collect samples. This blood isn’t
going to last too long once that sun starts beating down on
it.”
    Carefully, he placed a scale and a
numbered marker beside the last drop. Focusing his camera, he
snapped off several pictures. Then he took out an IntegriSwab from
his field kit. Uncapping the top of the tube, he pushed the swab
forward and dipped it into the blood, moistening the tip. He then
pulled the swab down inside the tube and capped the top. Next, he
slid the IntegriSwab into its own box and labeled the side of it.
One by one, he repeated the procedure with the other drops,
methodically working his way back.
    Allan remained where he was, taking
in the scene, trying to envision the chain of events that resulted
in the death. As he looked over the ECTUG building, he realized
that it afforded him a sense of privacy. From the street, no one
would be able to see him.
    What went on
here? he wondered. Did Brad Hawkins happen upon something he