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“All right then. If we’re all clear on the house rules…” Claire turned to her assistant, the fetching Bu
“Bu
Claire hip-butted the swinging door and entered the autopsy suite. The cops and the junior-grade assistants behind her were excited, speaking in whispers that seemed to cut loose, rise in volume, loop around her, and then die down to a hush again.
Conklin had the summer intern under his wing. Mackie Morales seemed bright and eager and maybe a little bit too much into Richie. The way she looked at him, the way he was a little puffed up, explaining things to her. Cindy would not be happy if she saw this.
And not too much escaped Cindy.
Claire laughed quietly, but she didn’t say anything to Conklin, just went to the far corner of the room and pushed the button that turned on the video camera. The light on the camera didn’t go on. She punched it a couple of times, and still the little red eye was dark.
That was weird. The camera had been fine yesterday.
She pressed the intercom button, said, “Ryan, check the video setup, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. It was unplugged. It’s on, now.”
“Why was it unplugged?”
“I don’t know. I just found it this way.”
Bu
“What’s the holdup, Bu
“I need to see you for a second, doctor.”
Claire sighed again, crossed the room, and followed Bu
“What is it, Bu
The girl’s blue eyes were shifting and her lips were trembling. Claire didn’t get it. What the hell?
“I can’t find her,” Bu
“What are you talking about?”
“Faye Farmer,” Bu
“What’s her drawer number?” Claire asked, exasperated. She went to the whiteboard, ran her finger down the list.
“Twelve,” said Bu
Claire turned away from the whiteboard, crossed to the wall of drawers, and pulled the handle of number twelve. The drawer slid out smoothly, bringing the corpse into view, tag tied to the big toe. Claire saw instantly that there had been a screwup. Faye Farmer was not and had never been a seventy-year-old black man.
She said, “Who mixed up the bodies? What drawer is this man supposed to be in?”
“Seventeen,” said Bu
Claire reached down, opened the drawer marked seventeen. It was empty. She started pulling out drawers, slamming them closed, each body in its assigned box except for the black John Doe in Faye Farmer’s drawer.
Bu
“Stop that,” Claire snapped. “Think. Did you see Ms. Farmer’s body after she was checked in yesterday?”
“Not after I logged her in. She’s supposed to be in twelve.”
“Who moved John Doe one thirty-two out of box seventeen?”
Bu
The body couldn’t have left the premises.
That was impossible.
About the Author
JAMES PATTERSON has created more enduring fictional characters than any other novelist writing today. He is the author of the Alex Cross novels, the most popular detective series of the past twenty-five years, including Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider. Mr. Patterson also writes the bestselling Women’s Murder Club novels, set in San Francisco, and the top-selling New York detective series of all time, featuring Detective Michael Be
He has also written numerous #1 bestsellers for young readers, including the Maximum Ride, Witch & Wizard, and Middle School series. In total, these books have spent more than 220 weeks on national bestseller lists. In 2010, James Patterson was named Author of the Year at the Children’s Choice Book Awards.
His lifelong passion for books and reading led James Patterson to create the i
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Books by James Patterson
Featuring Alex Cross
Merry Christmas, Alex Cross
Kill Alex Cross
Cross Fire
I, Alex Cross
Alex Cross’s Trial (with Richard DiLallo)
Cross Country
Double Cross
Cross (also published as Alex Cross)
Mary, Mary
London Bridges
The Big Bad Wolf
Four Blind Mice
Violets Are Blue
Roses Are Red
Pop Goes the Weasel
Cat & Mouse
Jack & Jill
Kiss the Girls
Along Came a Spider
The Women’s Murder Club
12th of Never (with Maxine Paetro)
11th Hour (with Maxine Paetro)
10th A
The 9th Judgment (with Maxine Paetro)
The 8th Confession (with Maxine Paetro)