Free Flash and Bones by Kathy Reichs Page B

occupied the sides of the room. Six held body bags.
    As I stepped inside, Larabee watched from the hall, sinewy armsfolded across his chest. Moving from bag to bag, I checked case numbers.
    Larabee was right. MCME 227-11 was not present.
    Shivering and goose-bumped, I exited and closed the door.
    “Did you look in the freezer?”
    “Of course I looked in the freezer. No one’s in there but the oldman Popsicle we’ve had for two years.”
    “A corpse can’t just walk away.”
    “Indeed.”
    “You didn’t sign a release for removal of the body?” I asked. Stupid. But this was making no sense.
    Larabee’s scowl was answer enough.
    “You did your autopsy Saturday morning. I finished with my skeletal analysis around four Saturday afternoon. The body must have been moved after that.”
    Tight nod.
    My mind sorted through possibilities.
    “It couldn’t be a funeral-home mix-up. They don’t do pickups on Sundays.”
    “And everyone else is accounted for.”
    “When did you notice the John Doe missing?”
    “About an hour ago. I went into the cooler to collect a gunshot case.”
    “Was anyone in here over the weekend? Cleaning crew? Maintenance? Repair service?”
    Larabee shook his head.
    “Joe was on duty?”
    “Yes.”
    When alone on night shift, Joe sleeps on a cot in the back of the men’s room. Closed door. Bad ears. An army could march through and he wouldn’t hear a thing.
    “Is it possible someone broke in?” I asked.
    “And stole a corpse?” Larabee sounded beyond skeptical.
    “It happens.” Defensive.
    “Body snatchers would have needed to disarm the security system.”
    “And tinkering is supposed to trigger an alarm.”
    “
Supposed
to.” Larabee’s tone affirmed his cynicism about modern technology.
    “Let’s check for signs of forced entry.”
    We did.
    Found none.
    “This is insane.” I was at a loss for more ideas.
    “There’s something I should tell you.” Larabee and I were standing beside the roll-on scale at the receiving dock.
    I looked a question at him.
    “Let’s go to my office.” Now the ME sounded nervous.
    We entered and Larabee closed the door. He sat behind his desk. I took a chair facing him.
    “As I was leaving on Saturday, I got tagged by the FBI.”
    I took a wild guess. “Special Agents Williams and Randall?”
    Larabee glanced at a paper lying on his blotter. “Yes. They were asking about the John Doe.”
    “What did you tell them?”
    “I shared my autopsy findings and your bio profile. I said I’d collected samples for tox analysis and warned that a final report would take time.”
    “And?” I asked.
    “Williams offered to deliver the samples personally. Said he’d try to get them bumped up the queue. I called the Charlotte field office. The two are legit, so it seemed kosher to me. I asked Joe to handle it.” Larabee’s brows dipped sharply. “A report faxed in around ten this morning.”
    “You’re kidding.” I was astonished. Normally it takes weeks, even months, to get lab results.
    “My mention of pulmonary lesions and edema coupled with gut ulceration and hemorrhage must have triggered something for Williams. He had my specimens driven to the CDC and fast-tracked through immunochromatographic analysis.”
    Larabee referred to a type of immunoassay, a chemical test designed to detect organic substances. I wasn’t an expert but knew a little about the process.
    Short course.
    Antigens are molecules recognized by our immune systems asoutsiders. Could be toxins, enzymes, viruses, bacteria. A transplanted lung that looks wrong. Antibodies are proteins that attack and neutralize these foreign invaders.
    Antibodies are present normally in our bodies or are produced in response to specific antigens. This is known as an immune reaction.
    Immunoassay tests are based on the ability of antibodies to bind to specific antigens. Threat X triggers response Y. Gotcha! In forensics, the technique is used to identify and quantify unknown organic