A Forest of Corpses Read online

  Simpson, one of the homeless nobodies, came and went in the city's awareness.

  "Will do," I said, more determined, like Nancy, to find the man's killer. I don't like it when people die in my city. I like it less when no one seems to notice, or care, about their passing.

  "Well, I hate to be the one to say it, but don't get locked too tight into this one. How many others are you working on?"

  I glanced over at Miguel, who I knew was still watching us and listening in on our little tete-a-tete, like any good partner would. So I directed my next question at him. "How many we on now, Miguel? Total."

  "Eleven, including that one. Most ag-assaults, four rapes, one attempted rape. A failed drive-by. Only three homicides—

  our two drive-bys and this one."

  "You wish it was more?"

  "No!" He looked furious as though my question disgusted him. It was the strongest emotion I'd seen from him since we'd been partnered. He threw his hands up as if pushing me away. "How can you say that?"

  "Just wondering." I threw Nancy a look and found her frowning at me. Okay, baiting my new partner wasn't cool.

  "I'm going to keep looking at this one for now. It is our only active homicide."

  "Just don't neglect your other cases, okay?"

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  "We wouldn't dream of it, would we?" I directed that to Miguel.

  "No, we won't, sir. We'll take care of all our cases, Lieutenant."

  Nancy looked amused. "Carry on, then."

  She returned to her office and shut the door. Nancy practiced an open door policy most of the time, but when it was time do the political dance with her bosses, she kept the rest of us out of the loop. For which I was very thankful. That was her game. Not mine. I threw a shrewd glance at Miguel, who watched me with that hawk-like gaze of his that looked a lot like the one I used. I wasn't too sure about the loyalties of my newest partner.

  In fact, I was beginning to suspect he was a very political animal, with about as much loyalty as one, which was going to make an interesting partnership in the weeks and months ahead. How much could I trust the guy?

  Nancy came out of her office. She bent down and spoke briefly to Miguel, who nodded and picked up his phone. She came around to my desk, looking pensive. She leaned toward me, her feet planted wide. Her look was grim. Had she figured out what I was thinking? Sometimes I swore my newest boss was a mind reader. Not a pleasant thought.

  She jerked her head at her office. "Can we talk?"

  I followed her in and watched pensively as she shut the door.

  "Something up, Lieutenant?"

  "You could say that," she said, then fell silent. She stared at the stack of papers on her desk beside the phone that 19

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  could connect her to every division and half of the city's emergency services, if the need arose.

  I waited, standing at parade rest. Watched her scribble a signature on a form and shove the paper into her out basket.

  I waited some more. Finally I glanced at my watch. It was nearly four-thirty.

  Even though I swore she wasn't looking at me, she saw where my eyes went. She instantly straightened. "Got a hot date, Spiderman?"

  "Jesus, didn't I ask you not to call me that?"

  She fiddled with the papers on her desk, shuffling them in some order that didn't mean anything to me, but must have been important to her. She put them back down decisively.

  "And don't I usually ignore you?"

  I knew Jason would be getting home from UCSB soon, and would be getting supper on in anticipation of my arrival. He might be getting something else on too, like the skin-tight leather pants I had recently purchased for his last birthday, along with some other gear, so maybe I was going home to a hot date. Not that I'd ever tell her that. There are definitely some things your boss should not know.

  "What I've got is an empty stomach," I said to fill the silence and keep her talking. "And I have a yen to fill it."

  "Gotcha. I just got off the phone with the University.

  They're looking for a guest lecturer to give a series on crime scene processing for their first year criminal justice students.

  They asked me to see if any of my men might be interested."

  "And you thought of me? Why?"

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  "Since Robertson retired, you're my most experienced detective. There's Paige, but he's more of a gang expert.

  These people want an all around investigative pro. I agreed to find someone. Plus, I thought it would be good PR for us."

  It never hurt to have someone in the public sector look positively on our little corner of the world. I could see where her devious mind was going. But did I want to follow it?

  "Me, teach?" I thought about it and frowned. "Me?"

  "You're personable, behind that stone wall you put up to keep us all out. And you're professional. Both good qualities.

  Besides," she grinned, relaxing into the Nancy I had partnered with for so many years before her promotion,

  "Don't you want to influence the next crop of LEOs?"

  "Uh..."

  "Good. I'll let them know you'll meet with their department head tomorrow to plan out your curriculum. I'm sure she has some ideas she wants to run by you."

  "Oh does she? Lucky me." I knew it was a done deal and sighed. I guess I was going to be a teacher. "God help us all."

  I was thoughtful on my way home. It wasn't something I would have sought out, but now that it was in my lap, so to speak, I was intrigued by the idea of teaching.

  By the time I pulled into the drive behind Jason's Honda, there was a bounce in my step. Jason was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on chicken mole, grilled potatoes and asparagus. My boy had gotten a lot more adventuresome in the kitchen of late. I patted the soft mound of my belly and knew I was going to have to do something about that. Maybe 21

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  start spending more time at the station gym, or join Jason on his numerous walks through the back hills above our place.

  I came up behind him, took a moment to admire his trim ass encased in hot black leather, remembering what it had looked like this morning, and slipped my hand between his legs. I grabbed his balls at the same time as I pressed my lips on his neck. He smelled of herbs and apple and tasted just as good. A pulse jumped like a skittering mouse under my lips, and I licked him.

  He jumped and spun around, holding a potholder in one hand, his face suffused with a flush.

  "Alex! I didn't hear you."

  "Good." I hauled him against my chest and went in for another taste. My own pulse thundered as our tongues tangled in a deeply satisfying kiss. We were both breathing hard when I broke away. "So, when are you going to feed me, boy?"

  "Twenty minutes."

  I swatted his butt. "Good. Time enough for a shower."

  Dinner was excellent, as I'd come to expect. Jason had selected a fine Syrah for our dinner wine. We both had one glass. I no longer overindulged; a promise I had made to myself and Jason in the aftermath of that violent explosion fueled by jealousy and alcohol. It was hard enough controlling the jealousy, I didn't dare add booze to the mix anymore.

  Jason always followed my lead in everything we did.

  I spent most of the meal with a swollen dick pressed against my thigh. The remainder of the evening we lounged on the leather sofa in front of the TV, watching Lauren Bacall 22

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  films. Jason nestled, half asleep under my arm, his hand firmly planted between my legs as Bacall and Bogart found their way in a hostile world.

  Over a Mexicali beer I ordered him to get, I told him about my offer.

  "You're going to be a teacher?"

  "Tweed jacket, corn cob pipe and
all."

  He grinned up at me from the shelter of my arms. "Sexy professor."

  "You think?"

  "I know." He outlined the shape of my swelling dick though my jeans. "When do you start?"

  "I go talk to someone tomorrow. I guess I'll find out then."

  "I think you'd be a good teacher." He withdrew his hand and sat up. Then he dropped his first bombshell of the evening. "I'd like us to take a vacation. I'd say we both have lots to celebrate."

  I had visions of Vegas or Hawaii. Sun, sand, a little gambling, hot sex. We'd never gone anywhere together. Then he dropped his second bombshell.

  "I'd like to go camping. Hiking in the Rafael Wilderness area."

  Hiking? Wilderness? That sounded ominous. The wildest thing I'd ever done was at the police softball game years ago between the Santa Barbara PD and the fire guys, where a few of us smuggled in flasks of whiskey, sneaking them behind the outfield bleachers, where we traded war stories between innings.

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  He seemed to sense my unease. I could see the eagerness on his face, the need to convince me. He really wanted this.

  Was I going to give it to him? "You're always telling me you want to get more active. It's great exercise."

  "Yes, I suppose it is."

  "Trust me. It'll be fun."

  Anyone else said that and I'd scoff. I knew better than to trust anyone. But this was Jason. He looked so damned earnest. I considered what it would mean to agree. I still had doubt, so I said, "Well, I might consider it."

  "At least try it for a week." His eyes were fixed on me. He only dropped his gaze when I frowned. He chewed on his lower lip.

  "A week, huh? How about a weekend?"

  "Weekend's not long enough to do any real hiking. We need a week at least. What can it hurt?"

  At least he hadn't suggested an ocean cruise, knowing how I felt about water. I frowned. Idly, my free hand traced the outline of his ear under his shaggy hair. "Let me think about it."

  He knew better than to argue with me.

  "Sure," he said. His soft, sexy eyes lasered into mine.

  "Bed?"

  We didn't make it that far. We rarely did.

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents] 24

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  Jason

  I slipped into the lecture hall, taking a seat in the back row. I don't think he saw me. He was too busy explaining the image he had just put up on the screen. He had donned his uniform for his lecture, maybe to remind everyone of who he was. He stood on the floor of the lecture hall, feet planted wide, his shoulders thrown back. He had the authority to back up his stance. I stared at the winking metal cuffs tucked into his back pocket, and the sidearm on the Sam Browne belt he never wore as a detective. I knew he'd won several marksman trophies with his Beretta.

  I was amused by the ripple of disgust that flashed through the roomful of eager young students. Not that I didn't feel a twinge myself. The image on the screen was a corpse—don't ask me what sex, I couldn't have told you—in an advanced state of decay. A mass of what might have been hair fanned out over pebbly ground around a moldering skull.

  A seven-year veteran of the Santa Barbara Police, Alex was teaching the first month of his visiting lecture at UCSB. I guess if the course proved a hit, they'd bring him back next year for a full semester. If he wanted to do it, of course. I couldn't help but notice a large segment of the female student body was more interested in their professor than his lecture.

  Not that I could blame them. He was a hot guy. Buff and lean hipped, with a deceptively boyish face behind metal frame glasses. I forced my gaze off of him and back to the large screen. Oblivious to the numerous lecherous eyes watching 25

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  him, he kept on talking. "These pictures were all taken at the Body Farm, a research facility at the University of Tennessee where forensic students study the effects of the environment on human corpses. This sort of research has been vital in our goal of being able to better estimate things like time of death.

  Establishing that is critical in determining who might have committed a crime. Or clearing a suspect. Remember in crime scene investigation, it's motive, opportunity, means, and, I always like to add, method. Find out those four things and you will find your killer. Of course, that's where the fun starts.

  Sometimes you know who did the crime, but you can't prove it in a court of law. If you're going to pursue a career in law enforcement you need to consider that reality. Learn to deal with it, or find a new line of work."

  A new image appeared. Same body, different angle. This one showed a mass of white maggots spilling out of dark flesh. I could only imagine the smell. "The level and type of insect activity can tell an experienced forensic entomologist a wealth of information." The next slide showed another mass of writhing maggots and beetles. In this one, I could see rib bones through the rotting flesh. I was just thankful they were still images and not video.

  Then a third image appeared. Different body, dusky brown skin. It looked like a leg to me.

  Alex faced the roomful of eager faces. His gaze swept over them without expression. "Can anyone tell me the difference between this image and the previous two?"

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  Students exchanged glances. I saw a few uneasy shrugs, then a young Asian man put his hand up. "It's not as decayed?"

  "Good guess, but no. Anyone else?" Alex pointed at a woman on the right side of the hall.

  "He's black—African American."

  "How do you know it's a he?"

  The woman blushed, her pale skin growing pink. "There's a lot of hair on it. Women usually shave..."

  "Good observation, but no, that's not it either. Any more guesses? Then perhaps this will give you more to work on."

  Another image, this one of the whole body. The girl was right on one thing, it was a guy. But this photo was not taken outside. It was inside and the man was on a bed that looked suspiciously like a hospital bed. Alex confirmed it.

  "This is a patient in an east coast hospital. He's undergoing maggot debridement therapy." A murmur went up. He ignored it and went on as though he was talking about what to order for dinner. "Maggots only consume necrotic tissue and since the Civil War have been used to clean out wounds.

  It was only stopped when antibiotics came into vogue. The practice is being resumed today under controlled conditions, and is proving to be successful."

  My own stomach turned and I almost groaned along with a few others. I got over it by looking at Alex instead. His calmness and visible strength made me straighten and look back. I could take it if he could. A lot of the students around me were visibly fighting to keep their lunches down. A few more looked positively green. I swear, if one person threw up 27

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  I was going to lose it. That was when he looked up and saw me.

  "Does it...does it hurt?" The girl who had spoken earlier sounded like she was in pain.

  Alex looked away from me and shook his head. "Not at all.

  It might not be pretty, but it works." He flipped to the next image. This one was of a new maggot-infested corpse. "It's not something you'd ever need to deal with unless you go into medicine, but I've always found it interesting that insects have more uses than most of us suspect. Most people view them as utterly gross and undesirable." For one brief second his face lightened. "Remember things are not always what they seem. Remember that, and you will go far and save yourself a lot of heartache."

  This time, he showed a new image. A corpse almost devoid of any skin except for a few leathery patches, one of which showed a tattoo of, appropriately enough, a skull. The gut of the body was literally crawling with shiny, dark-shelled beetles. Alex ignored the screen. Instead his gaz
e came back to me. Locked on, and drilled into me. I shivered and felt heat flood my face. But I couldn't look away until he released me.

  Nothing crossed his face. He remained impassive as always. There was a brief moment of tension in his shoulders, then he smoothly answered another girl's question before moving on to the next slide. His voice was strong and sure. I never realized what a good public speaker he was. But then we didn't spend a whole lot of time talking, did we?

  He finished up his lecture with an admonition that there was an essay due on Monday, which drew a slew of groans, 28

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  then he dismissed the class. I was half way to my feet when his voice boomed out, freezing everyone in their tracks.

  "Mr. Zachary. My office, please."

  Wide eyes looked around to see who was being summoned. Once everyone realized it wasn't them, they hurried to make their exit before he could change his mind, leaving me alone in the suddenly cavernous lecture hall. The last of their echoing footsteps faded until there was nothing but the sound of my breathing and the tick of the clock on the wall behind me.

  "Now, Mr. Zachary."

  I stood and looked down at him. But instead of giving me the illusion of superiority, I felt overwhelmed by him. He threw his papers into the cowhide briefcase I had given him just a month ago, clicked it shut, and climbed the stairs to my level, one step at a time, but still he moved quicker than I had expected, and in an instant he was beside me. Without a word he kept going, passed me, leaving me to hurry after him. His boots thudded and squeaked on the tile floors. I couldn't help but watch the swing of his hips under the weight of his uniform jacket and his gun. I was all too aware of his scent. Something dark and masculine that set my nerves singing, and my cock thickening in my suddenly too tight jeans. I looked at his ass, remembering what lay under there.

  I had thoughts that were not appropriate for this place.

  I stammered to fill the silence between us. "I know you told me not to come until next week. But I had to. Don't you see? I had to see you. I didn't think to ask you if I could come 29