They all stood in silence at the entrance to what used to be autopsy room four, their eyes taking in the destruction. At the far end of the room tables, trays, cabinets and trolleys were bent out of shape and turned over everywhere, showered in debris and bits of skin and flesh. Part of the ceiling and the back wall were damaged and covered in blood.

‘When did this happen?’ Garcia asked.

‘An hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes ago. I was in a meeting in the second building. There was a muffled bang and the fire alarms went berserk.’

What was bothering Hunter was the amount of washed-up blood and the number of black impermeable covers he could see scattered around the room, covering bodies or body parts. The cooler body storage facility was located on the wall opposite where the blast occurred. None of the fridges looked damaged.

‘How many bodies were out of the coolers in here, Doc?’ Hunter asked tentatively.

Doctor Hove knew Hunter had already caught on. She lifted her right hand, showing only the index finger.

Hunter let out a laden breath. ‘An autopsy was taking place.’ It was a statement rather than a question and he felt a shiver grab hold of his spine. ‘Doctor Winston’s autopsy?’

‘Shit!’ Garcia ran a hand over his face. ‘No way.’

Doctor Hove looked away, but not fast enough to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes.

Hunter’s gaze stayed on her for a couple of seconds before returning to what was left of the room. His throat went dry, and a choking sadness surrounded his heart. He’d known Doctor Jonathan Winston for over fifteen years. He’d been the Los Angeles Chief Medical Examiner for as long as Hunter could remember. He was a workaholic and brilliant at his job. He always tried his best to conduct most of the autopsies on murder victims whose death circumstances had been deemed out of the ordinary. But most of all, to Hunter, Doctor Winston was like family. The best of friends. Someone on whom he’d counted on numerous times. Someone who he respected and admired like few others. Someone he’d sincerely miss.

‘Two people were present.’ Doctor Hove’s voice faltered for an instant. ‘Doctor Winston and Sean Hannay, a 21-year-old forensic assistant.’

Hunter closed his eyes. There was nothing he could say.

‘I called as soon as I found out,’ Doctor Hove said.

Garcia’s expression was one of pure shock. He’d seen many dead bodies in his career, several of them grotesquely disfigured by a sadistic killer. But he’d never personally known any of the victims. And despite meeting Doctor Winston for the first time only three years ago, they’d quickly become friends.

‘How about the kid?’ Hunter finally asked. And for the first time, Garcia heard Hunter’s voice quiver.

Doctor Hove shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. Sean Hannay was finishing his third year of pathology at UCLA. His ambition was to become a forensic scientist. I was the one who approved his internship only six months ago.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room. He was just helping out.’ The doctor paused and considered her next words carefully. ‘I asked him to do so. It was supposed to be me assisting Jonathan.’

Hunter noticed that the doctor’s hands were shaking.

‘It was a special circumstances death,’ she continued. ‘Jonathan always asks me to assist on those. And I would’ve, but I got held up in my meeting and asked Sean to take over for me as a favor.’ Her eyes filled with horror. ‘He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have died here today – I was.’

Five

Hunter understood what was going through Doctor Hove’s mind. In the immediate aftermath of the blast, her self-preservation instinct had kicked in and she had felt relief. She’d had a lucky escape. But now reason and guilt were settling in and her mind was punishing her in the worst possible way. If my meeting hadn’t run late, Sean Hannay would still be alive.

‘None of this is your fault, Doc,’ Hunter tried to reassure her, but he knew that words would have little effect. Before accepting anything, they all needed to understand what had happened in that room.

Hunter took a step up to the autopsy room door as his mind tried to process the scene in front of him. Right now, nothing was making sense. Suddenly, something caught his eye and he squinted for a second before turning to face Doctor Hove.

‘Are autopsies ever videotaped?’ he asked, pointing to something on the floor that resembled a camera tripod leg.

Doctor Hove shook her head. ‘Very rarely, and the request has to be approved either by me or . . .’ her eyes moved from Hunter to the inside of the room, ‘. . . the chief medical examiner.’

‘Doctor Winston himself.’

A single, hesitant nod from Doctor Hove.

‘Do you think he might’ve chosen to record this autopsy?’

Doctor Hove considered it for a moment and her face flared with hope. ‘There’s a chance. If he considered the case intriguing enough.’

‘Well, even if he did,’ Garcia cut in, ‘how would that help us? The camera was certainly blown to shit like most of the room. Just look at it.’

‘Not necessarily,’ the doctor said slowly.

All eyes went back to her.

‘Do you know something we don’t?’ Hunter asked.

‘Autopsy room four is sometimes used as a lecture room,’ the doctor explained. ‘It’s the only examination suite we have equipped with a video camera connection hub. It links directly to our mainframe computer. That means that the images are simultaneously stored into our mainframe hard drive. To videotape a lecture or an examination, all a doctor has to do is set up a digital camera, hook it to the hub and they’re good to go.’

‘Can we find out if Doctor Winston did that?’

‘Follow me.’

Doctor Hove moved purposefully back to the same stairway they’d come down and went up to the ground floor. They passed the reception area before continuing through a set of metal double doors and into a long and empty hallway. Three-quarters of the way down, they turned right. A single wooden door with a small frosted glass window stood at the end of the corridor. Doctor Hove’s office. She unlocked it, pushed the door open, and led them inside.

Doctor Hove went straight to her desk and logged onto her computer. Both detectives gathered behind her.

‘Only mine and Doctor Winston’s login has administrator’s rights access to the video directory on the mainframe computer. Let’s see if we got anything.’

It took Doctor Hove only a few clicks to get to the video directory where all recordings were stored. Inside the main folder there were three subdirectories – New, Lectures and Autopsies. The doctor expanded the directory named new to find only one .mpg file. The timestamp on it indicated that it had been created an hour ago.

‘Bingo. Jonathan did record the autopsy.’ Doctor Hove paused and anxiously looked at Hunter. He noticed that she had fractionally pulled her hand away from the mouse.

‘It’s OK, Doc; you don’t have to watch this. We can take it from here.’

Doctor Hove hesitated for a second. ‘Yes I do.’ She double-clicked the file. The screen flickered and the computer launched its default video player application. Hunter and Garcia moved closer.

The pictures weren’t of great quality, but clearly showed a white female body on an autopsy table. The image had been filmed from above and at an angle, and was partially zoomed in so that the table occupied most of the screen. On the right, two other people in white lab coats could be seen from mid-torso down.