gases shoot under the skin, expand, and the explosion of expanding gas causes the tissue to split.”
Walker spoke up, “We’ll need to rule out suicide. If there’s a murder trial, the defense may try to con the jury into thinking Thornton could have just as easily shot himself as been murdered. Any chance the physical evidence could be construed as indicative of a self-inflicted wound?”
Reclaiming his arm, the M.E. shook his balding head. “Suicide shots are almost always to the temple, through the mouth or into the front of the chest. In this case, the angle of the bullet, the degree of gunpowder tattooing on the skin around the wound, the absence of any trace residue on the victim’s hands, and the fact that no weapon was found at the scene all rule out suicide. No, gentlemen…pardon me, I meant to say lady and gentlemen—” He cast an apologetic look at Mandy before continuing, “Joshua Thornton was murdered. I’d stake my professional reputation on it.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Mandy saw McKinney break into a semi-smile. “Good to know, Doc, because you may have to do just that. When we collar the bastard who carried out the hit, I’ll be calling on you to testify as an expert witness—unless he flips, of course, in which case we’ll offer to cut a deal in exchange for the name of his boss. The trigger man is just a hired gun, after all.”
Swallowing against the sourness coating her throat, Mandy interrupted to ask, “So that means he didn’t suffer, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Josh…I mean the vic, he didn’t feel any pain, did he?”
The three men turned to look at her as though she were newly landed from Mars. Beyond providing physical clues to closing the case, the victim’s suffering was considered inconsequential at this point. It didn’t matter to the white-lab-coated medical examiner or the two dark-suited FBI agents whether Josh had died instantly or languished for hours, but it mattered to Mandy. It mattered enormously.
“There were no other marks found on the body to indicate torture or even a struggle. In all likelihood, death would have been instantaneous.”
Mandy let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding back. As far as homicide went, a clean shot was a relatively humane death. It wasn’t much in the way of comfort, but it was all she had to hold on to.
Expression grim, McKinney shook his head. “When he didn’t check in this morning, I paged him, but he didn’t respond. I knew then they must have gotten to him. It’s a damn shame, too. He was almost to home base. The case was scheduled to come to trial the day after New Year’s Day. If only he could have held out just a little longer.”
Josh’s words came back to her. “I have a hunch this New Year’s is going to be the start of something wonderful, a fresh start in more ways than one.”
Agent Walker added, “If my twenty-five years with the Bureau have taught me anything, it’s that the last week is critical. When we lose them, typically the hit goes down within the last seven days. We tell them to lay low and for a while they do, but then they’re almost to the finish line, and something or someone comes along and they get careless or antsy or just plain bored and they slip up.”
Something or someone comes along. Mandy clamped her mouth closed against the bile burning up the back of her throat. One more week, Josh. You probably would have made it, too, if I hadn’t come along and screwed everything up for you . If only she’d turned down that offer of coffee. If only she hadn’t kept him hanging around on the deserted street waiting for her to start her car. If only she hadn’t been such a prude and had gone back with him to his apartment. If, if, if…
“Wait a minute, are you saying Josh, I mean Mr. Thornton, was a federally protected witness? But why would the mob take a contract out on a bartender?”
“Joshua Thornton is, or rather was, no bartender. That
Walker spoke up, “We’ll need to rule out suicide. If there’s a murder trial, the defense may try to con the jury into thinking Thornton could have just as easily shot himself as been murdered. Any chance the physical evidence could be construed as indicative of a self-inflicted wound?”
Reclaiming his arm, the M.E. shook his balding head. “Suicide shots are almost always to the temple, through the mouth or into the front of the chest. In this case, the angle of the bullet, the degree of gunpowder tattooing on the skin around the wound, the absence of any trace residue on the victim’s hands, and the fact that no weapon was found at the scene all rule out suicide. No, gentlemen…pardon me, I meant to say lady and gentlemen—” He cast an apologetic look at Mandy before continuing, “Joshua Thornton was murdered. I’d stake my professional reputation on it.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Mandy saw McKinney break into a semi-smile. “Good to know, Doc, because you may have to do just that. When we collar the bastard who carried out the hit, I’ll be calling on you to testify as an expert witness—unless he flips, of course, in which case we’ll offer to cut a deal in exchange for the name of his boss. The trigger man is just a hired gun, after all.”
Swallowing against the sourness coating her throat, Mandy interrupted to ask, “So that means he didn’t suffer, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Josh…I mean the vic, he didn’t feel any pain, did he?”
The three men turned to look at her as though she were newly landed from Mars. Beyond providing physical clues to closing the case, the victim’s suffering was considered inconsequential at this point. It didn’t matter to the white-lab-coated medical examiner or the two dark-suited FBI agents whether Josh had died instantly or languished for hours, but it mattered to Mandy. It mattered enormously.
“There were no other marks found on the body to indicate torture or even a struggle. In all likelihood, death would have been instantaneous.”
Mandy let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding back. As far as homicide went, a clean shot was a relatively humane death. It wasn’t much in the way of comfort, but it was all she had to hold on to.
Expression grim, McKinney shook his head. “When he didn’t check in this morning, I paged him, but he didn’t respond. I knew then they must have gotten to him. It’s a damn shame, too. He was almost to home base. The case was scheduled to come to trial the day after New Year’s Day. If only he could have held out just a little longer.”
Josh’s words came back to her. “I have a hunch this New Year’s is going to be the start of something wonderful, a fresh start in more ways than one.”
Agent Walker added, “If my twenty-five years with the Bureau have taught me anything, it’s that the last week is critical. When we lose them, typically the hit goes down within the last seven days. We tell them to lay low and for a while they do, but then they’re almost to the finish line, and something or someone comes along and they get careless or antsy or just plain bored and they slip up.”
Something or someone comes along. Mandy clamped her mouth closed against the bile burning up the back of her throat. One more week, Josh. You probably would have made it, too, if I hadn’t come along and screwed everything up for you . If only she’d turned down that offer of coffee. If only she hadn’t kept him hanging around on the deserted street waiting for her to start her car. If only she hadn’t been such a prude and had gone back with him to his apartment. If, if, if…
“Wait a minute, are you saying Josh, I mean Mr. Thornton, was a federally protected witness? But why would the mob take a contract out on a bartender?”
“Joshua Thornton is, or rather was, no bartender. That
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