Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation by M. R. Sellars Page B

it
was, back at the apartment, you screamed something about the killer
using Ariel’s own Ath-Tommee,” he still stumbled over the word, “to
skin her.”
    “Yeah.” The thought brought back unpleasant
phantom pains in my chest. “That’s what I saw.”
    “Whaddaya use it for?” he continued. “To
sacrifice things or something?”
    “No,” I answered. “Not in the sense you mean.
A Witch’s athamè should never draw blood, and the only sacrifice a
Witch makes is of him or herself.”
    “So ya’ think Ariel Tanner was tortured and
killed with her own Witch knife?” he voiced.
    “Yes,” I answered. “Which is something that
made it even worse for her because an athamè is a very personal
tool to a Wiccan practitioner. Hers was a dirk.”
    “Which is?”
    “A European double-edged dagger about six
inches long,” I explained. “It’s double-beveled and has a black
handle.”
    “Is that somethin’ you saw in your
vision?”
    “Yes. But I knew even before then. I gave it
to her when she went out and started her own coven. It was a
gift.”
    We entered the coroner’s office and were
greeted by a pleasant young woman at the reception desk who led us
back to a room with stainless steel tables and tile floors: a room
where the emptiness of death pervaded every sense to one who is
aware. The young woman introduced us to Dr. Christine Sanders, the
chief medical examiner who was also the M.E. working Ariel’s
case.
    Despite my protestations, Ben pointed out my
recent injury and asked if she might be able to take a look at it.
After an effusive amount of concern, I was forced to be x-rayed and
the gash stitched up. This was not something I expected from
someone who spends her days with the dead, and I made the mistake
of stating as much. She was quick to point out that she was in fact
an M.D., so I elected not to argue.
    Once my spur-of-the-moment medical treatment
was finished, we gathered in Dr. Sanders’ office. With its
carpeting, mauve walls, and strategically placed paintings, it was
a much more pleasant place to be than the chilled antiseptic realm
of the autopsy suite.
    “Ariel Tanner...” she began. “Just finished
that one yesterday afternoon. You guys are lucky you caught me
here,” she added. “This is supposed to be my day off. I only came
in to finish up some paperwork.”
    “I know the feelin’, doc,” Ben replied.
    Dr. Sanders continued leafing through a thick
file folder and finally came to rest on the page she sought. Her
glasses hung loosely on a chain around her neck, giving her a stern
look. Her demeanor, however, was much more pleasant than her outer
appearance immediately suggested. She tossed back a shoulder-length
shock of grey-flecked, brunette hair and slid the glasses onto her
face, resting them lightly on the end of her nose.
    “It appears that we are still waiting on some
of the tox screen results,” she told us. “But cause of death was
due to an acute trauma to the neck resulting in massive blood loss.
Judging from her histamine levels, the trauma to the chest...” She
looked up over her glasses at me then to Ben.
    “It’s okay,” he told her. “He’s consulting on
the case.”
    “...Then,” she continued, “the trauma to the
chest and excision of the dermis occurred antemortem.”
    “In English, doc,” Ben said.
    “She was skinned alive, Detective.”
    Jotting down quick notes, Ben continued, “Any
idea what the killer mighta used ta’ accomplish that?”
    “Based on the size and shape of the wounds…”
She looked back at the file and flipped over some more pages. “A
short, beveled blade of some sort, but that’s just a guess.”
    “One last question,” he asked. “And it might
seem a bit odd. Did ya’ find any marks on her arms? Like a puncture
wound?”
    “Now that you mention it, yes we did,” Dr.
Sanders answered. “There was a puncture wound on her left arm,
consistent with an injection. I assumed it was from a dose of
insulin since