Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11

Rodriguez pulled open the body cooler door and stared down at Dave Macken's corpse. Thankfully the autopsy was already finished, done by an assistant medical examiner and pushed through quickly because the victim was a cop, but Roddy still wanted to take one last look at Dave before he was released to the mortuary. The "Y" incision on his chest was sewn neatly closed, and the skin on his forehead was rolled back up after the coroner examined the brain and gunshot wound. Dave's lower jaw was pieced back together, but his face was distorted from the tissue shift of the bullet impact, the skin an ash gray. A large section of the back and top of Dave's skull was gone, nothing but a ragged hole where the bullet had broken through, but aside from the obvious injuries left over from the suicide, the man looked peaceful. Roddy's assistant was thorough in trying to put Dave back together, make him presentable out of respect for the badge.

Roddy leaned over Dave's face and crossed himself. "Vaya con Dios, Dave. I didn't know you as well as I would have liked, but I hope you are at peace," he said quietly and crossed himself again. He half expected Dave to rise up off the table and reach for him; it was that kind of day.

"Looks good, doesn't he?" Rodriguez's assistant said from behind him. Roddy jumped, spinning around with a shout.

"You scared the shit out of me, Frank!" He put his hand over his chest and shook his head.

Frank Doyle was a short, pudgy little man with chronic bad breath, and he jumped back from Roddy's reaction with a small shout of his own and an apologetic smile on his porcine face. Roddy didn't particularly like him that much, but was grateful that Frank had done such a good job on Dave.

Roddy said, "Frank, you did nice work, gave him back his dignity. Thanks for doing this."

"No problemo, boss. Remember I used to work over at Dawson's Funeral Home before I switched to the coroner side of things." Frank's voice was surprisingly thin for such a thick body. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you, it's just I find I'm more quiet around the dead. Doesn't seem right to stomp or shout." Frank handed Roddy Dave's autopsy report.

"Anyway, it was a straight forward post. No physical signs of anything in the brain or body that would account for him pulling the trigger, no tumors or cancer, but I'm still waiting on the tox screen and blood work," he said leaning over Dave's body. "What would make him do something like this? You were there...any guess?"

"No. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen, and I hope I never see anything like it again. He wigged when he saw the dead priest." Roddy unconsciously rubbed at a patch of Dave's dried blood on his shirt, and when he noticed what he was doing, pulled his jacket over the stain and looked back at Frank.

"Wow. How you holding up?" his assistant asked.

"I'm here so I guess I'm okay," Roddy said with a shrug. He still hadn't showered, he didn't know why and it was certainly against every health code and bio-containment protocol, but he was soul weary and just too tired. As crazy as it seemed, it was like he'd be disrespecting Dave if he just washed him down the drain. He was also dreading doing the autopsy on the priest. The sooner he was clean, the sooner he'd get bloody again.

I am standing on the precipice, peeking over at madness. Roddy shuddered and looked over at the priest's body, the collection of pieces semi-reassembled on the steel table.

Frank followed his gaze and crossed his arms. "Speaking of the priest, I did a preliminary on him and there's some weird shit you have got to see." Frank looked a little nauseous, which never happened, and another cold knot formed in Roddy's stomach.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I know I was supposed to wait until the homicide guy was present, but I just wanted to get a head start. We don't really have to wait this time, do we?"

"That's what the protocol is. And you know how I love protocol."

Frank pursed his lips, sneaking a glance at Roddy's blood crusted hair. "Yeah. Okay. It won't be Detective Bergenson will it?"

"No. I don't think so. They'll send somebody else, Bergenson was totally shot--"

"That's a bad choice of words, boss."

Roddy flinched. "Fuck me, you're right." He looked over his shoulder at Dave's body and winced. "Sorry man. Brrr."

"Freudian slip. Gallows humor," Frank offered with a tentative smile.

Fuck you, Frank.

"Well, what was it?" Roddy gestured at the priest and Frank visibly shuddered.

"You have to see for yourself. Somebody really hated this guy." Frank turned and walked towards the other exam table.

Roddy's hairs on the back of his neck stirred, and he looked over his shoulder at Dave again. The dead man's eyes were now open, staring right at him. Roddy stumbled back with a whimper as Dave's voice echoed in his head.

"He was a Marker of Faith and he had to be opened...."

Roddy looked at the priest and then back at Dave quickly, but the corpse's eyes were now closed.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Roddy whispered as he backed towards the doorway. Oh, this is bad! I'm losing it. The blood on his clothing tingled against his skin, and Roddy had to fight to keep from screaming.

"You okay, boss?" Frank asked as he pulled the sheet from the priest's jumble of body parts. "Where are you going? I thought we were going to go ahead and start the post?"

Roddy bumped into the door with a startled grunt and fumbled at the handle. "I-I need some air. Besides, we need to wait for the investigating officer."

He ran down the hall towards the showers, stripping as he went.