Free Drained by E.H. Reinhard Page A

He lifted one arm and scratched at his exposed armpit with his other hand, holding the beer. “Might have been a few minutes after that. I don’t know. Middle of the night.”
    “And you didn’t get up to look?” Beth asked.
    “No. Why would I get out of bed to watch someone throwing out the trash in the middle of the night?”
    The guy did have a point.
    “Other than what you heard, anything else?” I asked. “See any strange people or cars that weren’t normally around here?”
    He shrugged. “We have a bar in the lot. Different cars in and out of here every day and night.”
    My cell phone vibrated against my leg in my pocket. I slipped the phone out and looked at the screen but didn’t recognize the number.
    I excused myself from Beth and the man then answered the call. “Agent Rawlings.”
    “Mark Green, Cook County night shift medical examiner. I got your message regarding the remains of Kennedy Taylor.”
    “Yes, hello. I’d like to view the body if possible.”
    “Well, it’s already gone from our facility. We released the remains to a crematorium yesterday at the family’s request.”
    “Any idea if the remains have actually been cremated?” I asked.
    “No idea. Not much to see there either way, aside from a few needle marks. We could give you the results from the autopsy if that helps.”
    “I already have it. I guess I was just looking for a little personal insight into the remains.”
    “The body was drained of blood. Needle marks in arms, legs, and neck. Tox screen showed Rohypnol.”
    “That much I know. Nothing else stood out?” I asked.
    “Not really. Stomach contents—”
    I cut him off. “Contained alcohol and some kind of pasta that was barely digested.”
    “Yeah. Exactly. How did you know that?”
    I told him the stomach contents had been the same with previous victims. We spoke for another few minutes, but he didn’t have anything else for me. I hung up and walked back to Beth. The door on the Winnebago was closed, and she was standing with the two officers.
    “Done with underwear guy?” I asked.
    “Yeah, he doesn’t know anything. Who was on the phone?” she asked.
    “Medical examiner that handled Kennedy Taylor.”
    “And?”
    “The body was already sent over for cremation. Nothing new.”
    Beth and I thanked the patrol officers for meeting us and headed back for the hotel. We pulled up to the valet at the front entrance a bit before nine o’clock. Beth and I had put in a full day plus with the traveling. We walked through the front entrance and climbed the stairs toward the lobby. Beth stopped halfway up the flight of steps and dug her hand into the front pocket of her blazer. She pulled her phone out and hit the button to talk.
    “Agent Beth Harper,” she said.
    I continued up the flight of steps to take a seat in the lobby and wait for her to finish her call. She met me a moment later.
    “That was the mother of Jasmine Thomas, our second-most-recent victim. We have an appointment with her tomorrow morning at ten.”
    “Good,” I said.
    “That’s enough for the night,” Beth said. She motioned toward the elevators. We walked over, and she thumbed the button to take us upstairs.
    I dug my fingers into my eyes and gave them a hard rub. The elevator doors opened, took us inside, and let us out on the tenth floor a moment later. Beth and I walked for our rooms. I fished my hotel key card from my wallet.
    Beth looked over at me from her room door. “Are you going to sleep soon?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. I’ll probably call my wife, relax in front of the television for a bit, and call it a night.”
    “Feel like going downstairs and getting a drink?” she asked.
    I took a rain check.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Brett pulled the Ferrari past the front door of the address Monica had given him.
    “Shit,” he said.
    Her apartment complex was above a row of cafes and small businesses. People roamed the sidewalks back and forth. The stairs leading to the entrance