The Collector. Cameron Cruise
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your ears. When a temporal lobe is stimulated, the person can experience a presence associated with God or a spirit, depending on their personal beliefs. Some researchers in the area claim that humans are programmed for spiritual experiences.”
“But in our victim, you said it was the prefrontal cortex that was damaged, not the temporal lobe,” Erika said, confused.
“Exactly,” Alice declared, as if she’d just made her point. “The part that controls activity in the temporal lobe was damaged. It’s a leap, but I wonder, what if the injury in your victim’s brain caused the temporal lobe to become excited, giving her what she thought were psychic experiences?” When Erika and Seven stood in confused silence, Alice added, “There’s a condition called temporal lobe epilepsy. The seizures stimulate the temporal lobe.”
“The part that experiences religion?” Seven asked.
“Correct. During a seizure, the patient experiences smells and sees things that aren’t there—they hallucinate. She was a psychic, right? I wonder if the damage to her brain caused the temporal lobes to become excited, just like those of an epileptic. Your victim could very well believe she was having a psychic occurrence, when in fact she was having seizures.”
Erika looked at Seven. Neither knew what to make of the new information.
“But again, I digress,” Alice said. “You’ll be more interested in the cause of death.”
“That seems pretty obvious,” Erika said.
Alice smiled. Not something you saw every day, the coroner smiling.
“So you would think—the cause of death, exsanguinations. But that’s where it gets interesting.”
Alice leaned over the body, motioning the detectives closer. Like any good M.E., Alice didn’t have any problem with the dead.
She lifted the torso. “Here, she was stabbed from behind. Probably while she was running away, given the angle.” She let the corpse settle back on the table, and glanced up. “We know from the defensive wounds on her hands that she tried to fight off her attacker. And the eyes, they were removed cleanly, using something very sharp. Have you found the murder weapon?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s a seven-inch blade. Very sharp. I’m thinking one of those Japanese chef’s knives.”
“Weapon of opportunity?” Seven asked. “We’ll check the kitchen to see if anything is missing.”
“I prefer the Santoku myself,” Alice said. “Those things are a dream for mincing and dicing.”
Again, Seven held off a shudder, trying not to think about the coroner preparing food items. He glanced back at the Y incision, imagining Alice with a chef’s knife instead of her scalpel.
“And here—” she pointed to the next wound, at the victim’s side “—here the knife didn’t penetrate as deeply. She managed to get away. But this one?” She pointed to the heart. “That would have been fatal.”
“Would have?” Erika asked. “She looks pretty dead to me, Alice.”
“Not the point. She didn’t die from her wounds.”
Erika glanced at Seven, both remembering the words of the psychic, Gia Moon. She didn’t die the way you think.
Again, Alice flashed that elusive smile. “Along with the damage to the brain, your victim had a heart condition. Probably undiagnosed. Happens a lot with women. She had a ninety percent occlusion to the left coronary artery, the main pump to the heart,” Alice explained. “For someone like that, if the heart starts beating faster, the blood flow is insufficient to feed the muscle. Basically, her heart stopped before she could bleed out.”
Alice looked up at both detectives. “She had a heart attack. Given the circumstances, I’d say something scared your victim to death.”
In the parking lot, Erika was carrying on like a hamster in distress.
“It’s bullshit, Seven, and you know it. ‘She didn’t die the way you think,’” she said, repeating Gia Moon’s prediction. “If she didn’t do it, Gia Moon knows who did—and not because she had some woo-woo vision, like she wants us to believe. You ask me? She’s looking awfully good for the murder.”
“You don’t think you’re jumping the gun just a little here, Erika? What do we really have on this psychic?”
Erika crossed her arms and gave him that look—right between the eyes.
“Of course.” She slapped her palm to her forehead as if to say, What was I thinking? “She’s just a really good guesser. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong—”
“And that name, Gia Moon. Come on! Sounds like a freaking X-Files episode.”
“I admit the name is a little too cute.”
“Cute? Did you know Gaia is one of several names used for the Earth Goddess?”
“Okay, sure. But—”
“Gia Moon. Earth—moon. She freaking made it up.”
“So I have a cousin who her changed her name to Comedy, for God’s sake. Jesus, Erika. She’s a psychic. Maybe that’s what they do. Become Madam Zelda or Sunshine. She came down to the station. Why would she do that if she’s involved?” he asked. “She wants to get caught?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe she needs the attention? Or suffers from a guilty conscience? Only she tries to cover up with her hocus-pocus crap.”
“Hocus-pocus crap?” He grabbed his partner’s wrist, showing the gold bracelet with its jet stone. “Sounds kind of harsh coming from a woman who carries an ass-your-watch-it.”
“Azabache,” she corrected, talking about the amulet. “And it was a gift.” She twisted her hand away. “It’s just a silly superstition. This chick wants us to believe she’s in touch with the powers-that-be. That some demon killed Mimi Tran and now she’s next.”
Erika stepped right up to him. It still surprised him how someone five foot two could look so intimidating. But Erika had it going on, the stance—the stare.
“Are you tell me that you’re buying her story?”
“You know how this goes down, Erika. Once you start believing you know who the perp is, that’s when the righteous work stops. You lead the evidence rather than letting the evidence lead you. So maybe I’m not ready to slap on the cuffs just yet.”
He started toward the car, forcing her to do the same.
Truth be told, he didn’t know what to make of Gia Moon. At first, sure, he’d chalked her up as another nutcase. It happened all the time at the station. A provocative case such as the Tran murder brought out the crazies like a full moon.
But what his partner said was true. The stone in the bird’s mouth, the fact that she knew it changed color, the painting in the foyer. And now, the cause of death. She didn’t die like you think…It was a little close to the mark.
Walking to the vehicle, he could still see Gia clearly in his head. He had a good memory for things like that, but this was different. He pictured her eyes, so blue in contrast to her sleek black hair. How alluring she looked in just a plain T-shirt and jeans. During the interview, she’d seemed almost resigned to the fact that no one would believe her. She was doing her duty, coming forward like a good psychic citizen…knowing all along she’d be ridiculed. He remembered how badly he’d wanted to tell her she was wrong, that no matter what, he’d give her a fair shot.
He opened the car door and sat down on the hot passenger seat, waiting for Erika to start the engine. He just couldn’t imagine Gia involved in the bloodbath he’d seen…and maybe not for the reasons he’d given Erika.