Market for murder, p.1
Market for Murder, page 1
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
“Heather Graham delivers a harrowing journey as she always does: perfectly.... Intelligent, fast-paced and frightening at all times, and the team of characters still keep the reader’s attention to the very end.”
—Suspense Magazine on The Final Deception
“Immediately entertaining and engrossing... Graham provides plenty of face time and intimate connection, all lightened with humor, to reassure and satisfy romance readers. Though part of a series, this installment stands well alone.”
—Publishers Weekly on A Dangerous Game
“Taut, complex, and leavened with humor, this riveting thriller has...a shade more suspense than romance, [and] it will appeal to fans of both genres.”
—Library Journal on A Dangerous Game
“Intense... A wild, mindboggling thriller from start to finish.”
—The Reading Cafe on The Forbidden
“An enthralling read with a totally unexpected twist at the end.”
—Fresh Fiction on Deadly Touch
“Graham strikes a fine balance between romantic suspense and a gothic ghost story in her latest Krewe of Hunters tale.”
—Booklist on The Summoning
Market for Murder
Heather Graham
For Rich Devin with tons of love and so many thanks for so many things!
CAST OF CHARACTERS
The Krewe of Hunters—
a specialized FBI unit that uses its members’ “unique abilities” to bring justice to strange or unorthodox cases
The Euro Special Assistance Team, or “Blackbird”—
a newly formed group created to extend the Krewe’s reach into Europe to assist with crimes abroad
Carly MacDonald—
amber eyes, dark hair, a Blackbird agent known for her effortless ability to work undercover
Luke Kendrick—
six-four, green eyes, dark hair, a Blackbird agent with a military and police background
Brendan Campbell—
clean-shaven head, a determined and intelligent leader, with the National Crime Agency
Daniel Murray—
handsome and young, cut out for undercover work, with the National Crime Agency
Mason Carter—
six-five, blue eyes, dark hair, head of the Blackbird division
Della Hamilton—
late twenties, five-eight, green eyes, light brown hair, Mason’s partner
Michael MacDuff—
gruff and serious, head of the local investigation with Police Scotland
Jordan Dowell—
thirty, solid detective, working under MacDuff
Dr. Foster—
on-site medical examiner
William MacRay—
a bartender at Filigree
Marjory Alden—
another Filigree bartender who may have a secret
Kaitlin Bell—
a helpful ghost found haunting Filigree, died in 1838
Keith MacDonald—
a ghost in a jacket and kilt with a MacDonald tartan, died in 1838
Dr. Leith Forbes—
tall and trim, dark hair, head of the transplant unit at the hospital
Selina Caine—
nurse and assistant to Forbes
Dorothy Norman—
head nurse in the transplant ward
Milly Blair—
a friendly nurse in the transplant ward
Rusty Teller—
an orderly at the hospital
Winston Culpepper—
a member of hospital security
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Prologue
She lay in beauty.
Almost like a fairy-tale princess. Her blond hair radiated out from beneath her head like golden rays of the sun. Her cheeks were fair and her lashes lay softly against her skin, for surely she had simply fallen asleep in such a peaceful and stunning position.
Eyes closed and her hands folded prayer-fashion over her chest.
She’d been out for a night on the town, or so it appeared. She wore a stunning sequined blouse or dress... It was difficult to tell.
Because it seemed she’d brought a blanket with her, almost as if she’d intended to fall asleep in the vennel, or alleyway, right behind the popular club with nightly entertainment that was just off the Royal Mile.
Aye, she lay in beauty.
But she had to wake up and move. Edinburgh was not only Scotland’s capital city, but it was also a prime tourist location. And people sleeping in the streets—even if they were beautiful—was not something that encouraged tourism.
Doreen Gantry, just arriving for the breakfast shift at the nearby café, hunkered down and was determined to wake the young woman gently.
She touched the young woman’s arm, and it was ice-cold.
Of course, it had been a cold night, but...
She moved the blanket. At first, she just stared in horror, frozen in place.
She tried to scream and couldn’t. Then she found her voice.
And she screamed, and screamed, and screamed...
Doreen Gantry knelt there, frozen, simply frozen in form, until someone arrived at last and dialed the emergency phone number. She knelt until officers from Police Scotland arrived. She stood, finally, when one of them gently pulled her away from the sheer horror of the body.
One
Carly MacDonald studied the skeleton displayed before her at the special exhibit in Edinburgh. It was that of Mr. William Burke.
A monster? Certainly, to those whose lives he had ended and to their loved ones as well.
Now, he—or his skeleton—was on loan from the Anatomical Museum at the University of Edinburgh, and it seemed ironic to Carly that there was currently such an exhibit going on because a new form of similar crimes was on the rise. People were dying—so that others could live. But not on purpose, and there was nothing noble about what was going on.
Of course, it was ironic William Burke was here on display since his crimes had included selling his murderously obtained “fresh” corpses for dissection and display.
Medical science...few other areas of study had ever so advanced the quality of life for so many—and the length of life itself.
And in the early years of the nineteenth century, Edinburgh, Scotland, was at the forefront of medical science and anatomy.
However, at that time...
Corpses for study could only be obtained through those who had been hanged or died in prison, those who had died from suicide, and those who died as foundlings or orphans. Laws governing corpses were strange. The dead were always in demand, and thus there came into being a new breed of criminal known as “resurrectionists.”
Body snatchers.
Of course, the bulk of society looked upon those crimes as totally heinous, against any form of religion, horrible! But resurrectionists at least stole the bodies of those who were already dead.
Burke, along with his partner, Hare—who managed to avoid the hangman’s noose by giving state’s evidence against his partner in a full confession and as witness—discovered the decent income to be made in selling corpses to Dr. Knox so that he could excel in his lectures at the university.
But digging up bodies was increasingly difficult as loved ones of the deceased began to demand more protection for cemeteries.
It was also a heck of a lot of hard work with the possibility of being caught hanging over one’s head.
Of course, according to Hare, he was there when the murders were committed—but he wasn’t the killer. He only watched as Burke killed his victims. Not with brutality or fury—simply for the business commodity of it all. Their first sale had been the body of a man who had died of natural causes, the complication being that he owed money to the rooming house owned by Hare’s wife—common-law wife, most likely—Margaret. That’s when they discovered the easy income and living to be enjoyed off the dead. But in different confessions, it came to light that both men were guilty. One man held a victim down while the other covered the victim’s nose and mouth until they asphyxiated, which gave a new term to the English-speaking world, burking. They plied their victims with alcohol first, hopefully to make death easier for the victims? Or easier for Burke and Hare to accomplish their crimes. But this had been their method, except in the case of a poor boy some considered simple who’d had his back broken. By accident? As claimed by Hare. Or had a sense of cruelty come out in the killers at last? No matter the reason, their victims were usually drunk before being murdered, a little token of kindness one way or another. Then off the bodies had gone to the medical school for lectures on anatomy.
Dr. Knox had turned a blind—and approving—
Burke and Hare had met in 1827, and at first Burke had roomed with Hare and his wife at their lodging house. But then he and his “wife” Helen McDougal—records didn’t show if they were legally married or something closer to common law—moved into their own lodging house by summer. A couple, James and Ann Gray, were already staying at Burke’s lodging house—they had to be convinced to move to Hare’s to allow for a room in which to commit the murder at Burke’s. With the Grays gone, Madgy met her end and Burke and Hare hid her body under the bed. Alas for Burke and Hare, James and Ann Gray returned to their original room before they were expected and discovered an unwelcome surprise waiting for them.
And then in retrospect, it made perfect sense that Knox’s students had recognized some of the previous “fresh” bodies in their anatomy classes.
It was the end of the game for Burke and Hare.
Only Burke, however, would go to the gallows.
“Carly!”
She turned. It was impossible to miss her partner, Special Agent Luke Kendrick, in almost any crowd. He was six-four and fit and walked with what was surely just about perfect posture.
And with purpose.
They’d first been paired together for the too-recent “H. H. Holmes Society” case. Carly had been impressed with Luke in many ways, she thought, smiling for a minute, just as she was impressed with their Supervising Field Director, Jackson Crow, a man who seemed to know instinctively who would work best together. Maybe because they were all so “unique in their talents,” as she’d heard their team described, but also because he seemed to know human quirks and personalities.
She and Luke were a partnership, in every essence of the word. She was grateful they would be together while still in Scotland seeking new killers, along with Police Scotland and the National Crime Agency. Brendan Campbell as the head of the Scottish component was always in close contact with Jackson, who was juggling all his agents in the States and abroad. She and Luke had started off together here, studying the displays, until she’d found herself all but hypnotized by the bones of the man who had once caused such pain and horror in this very city. Luke had gone on to observe other aspects and probably those milling around as well. He was a great people watcher. And it was true that those responsible for criminal acts were often curious to see the effects of their deeds.
“We’ve got to go,” Luke said, and from the serious set of his face, she knew there had been another body found.
“Where’s the car?”
“We’re walking. She’s in a vennel behind a popular club. But it’s a narrow alleyway, and there’s nowhere to put a car much closer than we are now. Come on.”
Carly nodded and turned quickly to join him. “A young woman?”
Luke nodded. “This time.”
The killer was—or killers were—all over the place when it came to victimology. She and Luke had been called back to Edinburgh from the Stirling area when the first bodies had been found, and the media began hyping the killers as “Burke and Hare Revisited.”
She’d gone to see the display on Burke that morning specifically to try to understand more. There was no way a killer was going to sell cadavers to a medical college these days, but she had to agree with the media—the killings were for profit.
Victims were discovered minus vital organs. But the care and transport of organs for transplant was tremendously precise and difficult! How was this killer—or these killers if there were indeed two or more—managing such a feat?
Or...
Are they just sadistic and brutal monsters, ripping people up for the emotional or sexual release it gave them?
All she knew right now was the murders were accelerating. There had been three bodies discovered before “Blackbird”—the European division of the Krewe, their unique unit within the FBI—had been called in by Brendan Campbell of the National Crime Agency.
“Don’t you love the internet?” Luke murmured as they walked.
Carly frowned, wondering what had brought that on. “I love the pics I see of my family on social media,” she said.
“Yeah. If it were friends and family pics and cool things, it would be great.” He made a face and shook his head. “It also gives a platform to people who want to spew hatred, who want to form societies for people to mimic historical killers and—” he paused, glancing her way “—allows people to pick up on the media and give names to serial killers who love the attention!”
Carly shook her head in response. “Luke, I don’t think whoever is doing this craves the media attention or ever wanted a special name. From what we’ve seen, they’re stealing human organs—wanted by those who need transplants all over the world—for monetary gain!”
“That’s true. But if that’s all they were doing, why display the bodies the way that they have?” he asked softly.
They’d walked quickly, and Luke had taken the turns that brought them off the Royal Mile and into the narrow vennel behind the popular nightspot.
He flashed his badge to the Police Scotland officers on duty, ensuring the curious didn’t pass through the crime scene tape that cordoned off the area. The officers nodded grimly and they were allowed through.
“Campbell is waiting for you,” one of the officers said.
“He’s here? Already?” Luke asked.
“I think he teleports, like on Star Trek, when he feels he needs to be somewhere,” the officer said dryly.
“Maybe,” Luke agreed, almost giving the man a smile.
The discovery in the vennel had been just too grim for any real humor, even though those who dealt with death and crime sometimes had to find humor lest they lose themselves and their ability to function and reason. It was equally difficult not to take cases personally—the victims were human.
“Ahead,” the officer instructed, although there was no other way to go.
They hurried along to where they saw a medical examiner bent low over a form stretched out near one of the large garbage receptacles just beyond the back door of the club. Brendan Campbell, two local officers and Daniel Murray, a young detective with the National Crime Agency, a man with whom they’d very recently worked, were standing nearby.
Daniel looked at Carly as they arrived, shaking his head and wincing. She arched a brow and nodded, looking down at the woman on the ground. The medical examiner was hunkered down at her side, and he looked up at them, scanning the faces of the law enforcement personnel surrounding him now. “Well, as ghastly as the scene appears, I don’t believe she suffered much. I don’t have test results yet, but close as I am, I do believe the young lady had a great deal to drink. I also believe you’ll be relieved to hear she was suffocated—dead before the evisceration of her body began.”
He spoke quietly, his gentle Scottish burr something that seemed to soften his words as well.
“Different, but the same,” Carly murmured. “Not tortured, rather taken for the monetary value of her death to her killers.”
“Aye, and burked,” Daniel Murray said, his tone hard.
“I believe,” Luke said, looking over at Brendan Campbell, “the killers—and there is more than one—are simple psychopaths with no thought whatsoever about the lives they are taking. However, they are not brutal or sadistic. The kill has to do with the fact it’s a means to an end. Somehow, they have a market for human organs. While human life means little to them, they are aware there are those across the world who would give anything to survive—and that chance to survive depends on a viable heart, lung, kidney or liver.”
“We’ve already heard my theory, but what do you think about the display?” Carly murmured.
Luke looked at her. “All right. They started out just being in it for the money. Maybe things changed. The media gave them so much attention that maybe they discovered they loved it. I don’t believe they started out to be Burke and Hare. But because they are killing for the money a body can bring, and once they read that they were being compared to Burke and Hare, they decided they enjoyed the media sensation. They might even enjoy the fear it’s creating in the city, or the historic significance of being compared to Edinburgh’s most infamous killers. The first body, sir,” he said, addressing Brendan Campbell, “it wasn’t discovered in such a pristine and...peaceful state.”
