“That should be sufficient.” Cameron put her hand on Mitch’s arm. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
He shrugged half-heartedly and looked at his feet. “I’m the only family the guy has. Someone’s gotta do it.”
We led him into the coroner’s office. The bleary-eyed man behind the desk looked up in surprise when we approached.
“Can I help you?” he asked dumbly.
“Yes,” Cameron said, her tone businesslike and no-nonsense. “This is Mitch Gagnon. He’s here to identify a body. It should be listed under the name Lenny Nash.”
The man blinked at her from behind thick glasses. “Uh, I’m sorry?”
I rolled my eyes, but let Cameron take the lead.
“Isaid, we have the next of kin to one of the bodies you have here. Are you going to let him see the body or not?”
Chastised, the man fumbled his way to a standing position and clicked around on the computer. “Sorry, we don’t usually have things like this happen.” He glanced at Cameron and winced. “Most identifications happen at the hospital before bodies are brought here. Um, are either of you with the Toronto PD?”
“I’m a consultant to the police,” Cameron said, not missing a beat.
“Sure, sure,” the man muttered. “Fine.”
A few minutes later, the desk clerk had made copies of Lenny’s documents as well as Mitch’s ID. He had Mitch sign a few forms, then filed them away and picked up a ring of keys from his desk.
“Well, uh, follow me,” he said.
Mitch had remained composed through all the administrative tasks. Now, though, he looked more anxious than ever—eyes hooded, mouth pinched, fists clenched at his sides as he walked. It looked like he was trying to change the nature of reality. Like he could make it not be true by focusing hard enough.
“Row three, tray two,” the clerk said, mumbling under his breath as he counted the refrigerated drawers. “Here we are.” He pulled the drawer open.
The metallic rasp of rolling ball bearings broke the silence as, inch by inch, the table slid out, revealing a black body bag.
“Autopsy has already been done,” the man said, reading from a clipboard. He unzipped the top of the bag, peeled the plastic back, then backed away to the door. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”
Mitch sighed. “You were right. That’s Lenny. Holy shit,” he hissed, burying his face in his hands.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cameron said with that perfect combination of compassion and professionalism. She really was good at what she did.
“Do you have any idea why Lenny was in Toronto?” I asked. “All your cousin had on him was his ID, an empty wallet, and a business card for Keeble and Jax Construction.”
Mitch shook his head absently, still staring down at his cousin. “No idea.”
“Did Lenny have any issues that we should know about?” Cameron asked, angling for some shred of evidence that could connect Lenny directly to Lincoln or Rick Masters.
Mitch took a deep, chest-inflating breath as if trying to clear his mind with nothing but air. “Lenny had…” He shook his head, then rubbed his jaw. “He had problems.”
“What were they? If I may ask?” Cameron asked.
“Drugs. Back when we were in our early twenties, he bounced in and out of rehab four or five times. It was a rough time. Most of his issues started when his parents died. He sort of spiraled, and I was the only one there to help him back out of it. He struggled like hell, but he’d beaten it. He was clean for nearly ten years. This is fucking awful.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is that what happened? An OD?”
Cameron shook her head and flicked a glance at me before responding. “He was hit by a car while walking on the side of the road.”
The lie made me feel dirty, but JC had assured us it was the best way to keep Ollie out of trouble. Nothing else would have accounted for a dead body in his truck, other than that he was a fucking serial killer or something. The idea of them hauling this man’s body out of the truck bed and tossing it in the road had bile crawling up my throat. Yesterday, I’d have spit on the corpse without blinking, but after meeting Mitch and seeing Lenny as more than a monster, it was hard to reconcile the lie in my head. All I wanted to do was tell the truth, yet the circumstances prevented it.
“Christ,” Mitch cursed. “What a damn waste.”
Guilt wormed its way through my chest, leaving a dark trail on my soul. I’d killed the man Mitch was mourning. Killed him, and here I was, acting like I hadn’t. In the moment, my only thought had been about keeping Cameron safe. Now, without the threat and the surging adrenaline, I couldn’t help but feel ashamed of what I’d done. The guy had been feral, out of his mind, and suffering. I’d had no other option, but it didn’t makeme feel any better. A man was dead because of me, and that stain would mark me forever.
“Did anything strange happen in the months before Lenny disappeared?” Cameron asked.
