The doctor was already at work in what reminded Ava of a big industrial kitchen. Stainless steel tables and gurneys, long hoses, scalloped knives that looked like bread knives, and the large colanders at the sinks perpetuated the kitchen impression. The body on the table with the long Y incision did not.

Neither did the heavy-duty hedge shears in Dr. Trask’s hands. She moved onto a step stool to get a better angle over the body, and glanced over as the three of them neared the table. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully. Her dark eyes and long dark ponytail were all Ava could see of her under her protective gear. An eighties band played a rock ballad in the background, and Ava noticed the assistant silently moved her hips with the rhythm.

Ava steeled herself for the crack of the ribs between the blades of the shears and looked away. The sound belonged in a horror movie. She looked back in time to see Dr. Trask and her assistant lift out a bony section of chest. Ava had watched the violent cutting and prying open once before; it’d been enough.

The doctor deftly removed the major organs for her assistant to weigh and log. Ava knew a small sample would be removed from each one for study and preservation, and then the organs would be returned to the body. But not in the perfect positions they’d held during his life; they’d be dumped back in rather unceremoniously. “I’ve already done a thorough exam of the exterior,” Dr. Trask said. “I was right about the blow to the side of the head. I didn’t find any other trauma except the shot to the chest.” She tipped her head to the bony section her assistant had set aside. “I followed the path of the bullet. It went directly between two ribs, through his left ventricle, and out his back in a downward trajectory. I took several pictures so you can see the angle. Since the bullet hole in the cabinet door followed a similar trajectory, it’s logical that Mr. Fujioka was leaning against the cabinet door and was shot by someone standing in front of him.”

“They’ll look for the bullet today,” said Zander.

“It’ll be a big one,” said Dr. Trask. “He has a wide entrance wound and it traveled very straight. Lots of power behind it.”

“Any gunpowder or stippling on him?” Ava asked.

“Very light. The killer wasn’t holding the gun very close to his victim.”

“But the victim was definitely shot while he was sitting on the floor,” clarified Nora.

“Yes. Unless your shooter is eleven feet tall,” said Dr. Trask with a smile. “I suspect your eyewitness might have mentioned that odd fact.”

“Nope. He was average-size. Too average,” said Ava. “Did you find anything unusual?” she asked as the doctor prepared to finish her work.

“I didn’t find any long hairs that Agent Wells asked me to look for, and there wasn’t any tissue under his nails. From the films of his skull, he was hit once with a blunt object that could have been a baseball bat or something of a similar size and width.”

Ava looked at Nora and Zander. “Audrey didn’t mention seeing our suspect carry anything like that. Even though it was dark, I would think she’d spot that.”

“No one reported anything like that inside or outside of the house. How could we have missed something that large?” asked Nora. “I’ll have Henry call Audrey and ask if she remembers him carrying a bat.”

“I’m not positive it’s a bat,” Dr. Trask said quickly.

“Understood,” said Nora. “But it sounds like we missed something at the scene.” Her phone rang. “Perfect timing. It’s Henry. Excuse me a minute.” She stepped out of the autopsy suite to take his call.

“We have a mutual friend,” Dr. Trask said to Ava in the silence that followed.

“Who’s that?” Ava had heard the medical examiner was new to the state.

“Michael Brody. The newspaper reporter? He’s my boyfriend’s brother.” She stumbled over the word “boyfriend,” and Ava understood. It’d been awkward for her to use the teenage term to describe Mason. It’d been a relief when she could start saying “fiancé.”

“Yes, I’ve met Michael a few times. My fiancé has known him for quite a while. They seem to have a love/hate type of relationship.”

“That’s how Chris described it, too.”

The autopsy suite doors swung open and Nora strode back in. “We’ve got a guy who claims he killed all four cops,” she exclaimed. “And he knows about the masks.”

21

“We have a subject who wants to confess.” Mason heard the excitement in Ava’s voice over the phone. “He walked into the Portland police’s North Precinct and asked to speak to a detective about the murders. They’re transporting him to your building downtown and thought I’d give you a heads-up. I’m leaving as soon as I wrap up some paperwork at the medical examiner’s office, but Zander and Nora should be there by now.”

Mason glanced around the detectives’ room. No one else was present. Duff Morales and Steve Hunsinger hadn’t returned to work yet after Denny’s death. The other Major Crimes detectives were out on calls. He’d have to go up a floor to find Nora Hawes. “Got it,” he told Ava. “I’ll figure out where they’re bringing him. He hasn’t confessed yet?”

“Once the detective realized that this person knew what he was talking about, he halted the interview and reached out to Detective Hawes, thinking the task force needed to handle the interview. Nora said he brought up the masks.”