You Belong to Me by Karen Rose

the drama alone. She thought of the club that was her second home. In a way, she had.
    She motioned Craig into the lab. ‘I’m not seeing what I should be seeing.’
    He pointed to the microscope. ‘The John Doe you found this morning?’
    ‘Christopher Jones. He had a core temp of fifty-eight degrees.’
    Craig’s shaggy brows shot up. ‘That’s something you don’t see every day.’
    ‘Exactly. His arms and legs, hip joints – all thawed. I should have realized something was different when he went down on the chess table. Now I remember the way his body went . . . thunk . Not . . . squish .’
    Craig’s lips twitched. ‘Thunk and squish?’
    She narrowed her eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’
    ‘I usually do, which kind of scares me. Seriously, though, you thought it was a friend. That you didn’t pick up on thunk versus squish is understandable. So what are you not seeing that you should?’
    She gestured him to look through the microscope. ‘No desiccation,’ she said as he peered through the lens. ‘I thought I’d see cellular damage to a much greater extent.’
    ‘But you don’t,’ he murmured. ‘Where did you take the sample from?’
    ‘His thigh, but samples from his abdomen and arm showed the same absence of damage. There should be damage.’ Any time the water in human cells was frozen and thawed, there was evidence of crystallization and dehydration. But here there was none.
    Craig glanced up. ‘And?’
    ‘He was frozen,’ Lucy said, ‘but not conventionally. I know this sounds crazy, but it looks like this guy was flash frozen. Like frozen corn.’
    ‘Doesn’t sound crazy at all. Flash freezing takes the temp down so fast that there would be minimal dehydration. Which is kind of the point of it. No cellular damage, flavor is retained. In corn, anyway,’ he added. He leaned against the counter. ‘But you’re talking one hell of a large piece of equipment.’
    ‘I know. The victim was five eleven.’ She shrugged. ‘At least it’s a lead. How many gargantuan flash freezers can be lying around?’
    ‘I’m more interested in why the victim was frozen to begin with.’
    ‘Detective Fitzpatrick believes the killer targeted me to find the victim. That’s why Mr Jones was sitting at the chess table, dressed like my friend. I’ve been out of town for a few weeks and I guess the body wouldn’t keep. So he froze him.’
    Craig’s face went dark as if all the pieces had just fallen together. ‘Why would a killer do that? Target you? Why you?’
    She fought the urge to childishly fidget. ‘Probably because he figured an ME finding the body would give him more attention. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s not like I actually knew the victim.’
    ‘True, but why you? And how did the killer even know about you? You’re not a celebrity, Lucy. You’ve never even been on the news. I’m always the one to go to press conferences. How would this guy even know you exist? That you run in the park? That you were out of town. How?’
    She thought about the people who knew what she did for a living, the ones who’d known she’d gone away from home. Her apartment building. Here at the morgue. The university at which she’d spoken the week before. The hotel where she’d attended a training session the week before that.
    And the club. She couldn’t forget the club.
    ‘Lots of people knew I was out of town. Lots of people know I’m a pathologist.’
    ‘But who knew you ran every morning? Who knew the old man was your friend?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ And she honestly did not. Lots of people knew a few details of her life, but there were only a handful who’d know every detail. Unless that person had made it his business to know.
    ‘I want you to be careful,’ Craig said, his voice low and urgent.
    ‘I will be. I am. You’re giving me the creeps.’
    ‘Good.’ With a weary sigh he stood. ‘Call me when you get home tonight.’
    She hesitated. ‘It’ll be late. I don’t want to