"It's on two masks?" Ava's attention perked up fifty points. "Which ones?"

"On Weldon's and Samuelson's."

"Yes! I knew Weldon belonged to the group." Ava grinned. "It's that final confirmation we needed. No leads on the print, though?"

"It hasn't turned up in any of the databases we've searched," said Nora. "We're combing through some others."

Ava could tell there was something she hadn't shared. "Just one print? A one-fingered killer?" she joked.

"We're wondering if it was planted on the masks," Nora said.

"Why is that?"

"Have you ever listened to the fingerprint guys talk when they find an unusual print?" Nora asked.

"Yes." Ava nodded. "They turn into a bunch of science geeks. Totally excited and talking in jargon that I don't understand. I think an interesting find after looking at boring fingerprints all day shoots them over the top."

"This print made the whole evidence department have nerdgasms," said Nora.

Ava snorted.

Nora pulled out her phone and opened up an image, holding it out to Ava. Ava studied the enlarged fingerprint. She knew very little about prints, and she glanced at Nora in confusion. "Am I seeing a happy face?"

Nora nodded, and Ava looked at the print again. The whirls and swirls of the print formed two eyes and a perfectly symmetrical smile. Apparently this was heaven to fingerprint technicians. "It's very unusual. Is that why you think it might be planted?"

"This was the sole print inside of each mask." Nora stated. "It's such a rare print, it made us wonder if they're having a bit of fun with us."

"If we find a suspect with this print, that'd be some pretty incriminating evidence," said Ava. "If everything else makes sense."

"If the suspect doesn't have it, does that mean he didn't do it?" Nora countered.

"No, of course not," Ava admitted. "But it wasn't on Schefte's mask?"

"No. But we'll check the mask from the scene last night."

Ava studied the smile on the phone. Was someone messing with them? "Are they sure it's real? Could someone have created it?"

"It's real. They were positive. A print like that isn't unheard of, but it is quite rare."

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" Zander asked, looking over her shoulder.

"You would like this sort of thing." She turned to look at him. "You're the biggest science geek-" She stopped, stunned by the dark circles under his red eyes. "You okay?"

Zander looked away. "Yeah. Didn't sleep."

Ava bit the inside of her cheek. She'd worked with Zander on cases where no one got sleep, but she'd never seen him look this bad. He looked as if he'd finished a fifth of tequila and not slept in days. "It was a disturbing scene last night," she agreed, watching him closely.

"Bad one."

Bulls.h.i.t. Louis Samuelson spiked to a wall in his living room had been ten times worse than their murder scene last night. Whatever was bugging Zander, he clearly wasn't going to share it at the moment. Either he didn't want to talk or it was nothing and he was coming down with the flu.

Or he was just being Zander. Silent man who never shared what bugged him.

Probably that last option.

"You up for this?" she asked, tipping her head toward the door to the autopsy suite.

"Not a problem," he stated.

"Is Henry joining us this morning?" she asked Nora.

"Henry doesn't do autopsies," said Nora with a smile. "He gets to skip them because I'm afraid he'll crack his skull open when he hits the floor, and he refuses to wear the protective brain bucket I suggested."

"He's fainted?" Zander asked.

"Three times. I let it go after that. It's easier to hold the weakness over his head and demand favors."

The three of them stepped into the autopsy suite and Ava felt the temperature dip ten degrees. She'd expected it and had worn two layers under her sweater. They donned long-sleeved ankle-length gowns and shoe covers and picked up face shields, planning to get up close to Dr. Trask's work. Ava was curious to see how the pet.i.te doctor worked with death. She'd found her to be down-to-earth and amusing while she did her once-over of Lucien Fujioka last night. Most pathologists Ava had met had pretty good senses of humor. She figured it was necessary to face their job day after day.

The doctor was already at work in what reminded Ava of a big industrial kitchen. Stainless steel tables and gurneys, long hoses, scalloped knives that looked like bread knives, and the large colanders at the sinks perpetuated the kitchen impression. The body on the table with the long Y incision did not.

Neither did the heavy-duty hedge shears in Dr. Trask's hands. She moved onto a step stool to get a better angle over the body, and glanced over as the three of them neared the table. "Good morning," she said cheerfully. Her dark eyes and long dark ponytail were all Ava could see of her under her protective gear. An eighties band played a rock ballad in the background, and Ava noticed the a.s.sistant silently moved her hips with the rhythm.

Ava steeled herself for the crack of the ribs between the blades of the shears and looked away. The sound belonged in a horror movie. She looked back in time to see Dr. Trask and her a.s.sistant lift out a bony section of chest. Ava had watched the violent cutting and prying open once before; it'd been enough.

The doctor deftly removed the major organs for her a.s.sistant to weigh and log. Ava knew a small sample would be removed from each one for study and preservation, and then the organs would be returned to the body. But not in the perfect positions they'd held during his life; they'd be dumped back in rather unceremoniously. "I've already done a thorough exam of the exterior," Dr. Trask said. "I was right about the blow to the side of the head. I didn't find any other trauma except the shot to the chest." She tipped her head to the bony section her a.s.sistant had set aside. "I followed the path of the bullet. It went directly between two ribs, through his left ventricle, and out his back in a downward trajectory. I took several pictures so you can see the angle. Since the bullet hole in the cabinet door followed a similar trajectory, it's logical that Mr. Fujioka was leaning against the cabinet door and was shot by someone standing in front of him."

"They'll look for the bullet today," said Zander.

"It'll be a big one," said Dr. Trask. "He has a wide entrance wound and it traveled very straight. Lots of power behind it."

"Any gunpowder or stippling on him?" Ava asked.

"Very light. The killer wasn't holding the gun very close to his victim."

"But the victim was definitely shot while he was sitting on the floor," clarified Nora.

"Yes. Unless your shooter is eleven feet tall," said Dr. Trask with a smile. "I suspect your eyewitness might have mentioned that odd fact."

"Nope. He was average-size. Too average," said Ava. "Did you find anything unusual?" she asked as the doctor prepared to finish her work.

"I didn't find any long hairs that Agent Wells asked me to look for, and there wasn't any tissue under his nails. From the films of his skull, he was. .h.i.t once with a blunt object that could have been a baseball bat or something of a similar size and width."

Ava looked at Nora and Zander. "Audrey didn't mention seeing our suspect carry anything like that. Even though it was dark, I would think she'd spot that."

"No one reported anything like that inside or outside of the house. How could we have missed something that large?" asked Nora. "I'll have Henry call Audrey and ask if she remembers him carrying a bat."

"I'm not positive it's a bat," Dr. Trask said quickly.

"Understood," said Nora. "But it sounds like we missed something at the scene." Her phone rang. "Perfect timing. It's Henry. Excuse me a minute." She stepped out of the autopsy suite to take his call.

"We have a mutual friend," Dr. Trask said to Ava in the silence that followed.

"Who's that?" Ava had heard the medical examiner was new to the state.

"Michael Brody. The newspaper reporter? He's my boyfriend's brother." She stumbled over the word "boyfriend," and Ava understood. It'd been awkward for her to use the teenage term to describe Mason. It'd been a relief when she could start saying "fiance."

"Yes, I've met Michael a few times. My fiance has known him for quite a while. They seem to have a love/hate type of relationship."

"That's how Chris described it, too."

The autopsy suite doors swung open and Nora strode back in. "We've got a guy who claims he killed all four cops," she exclaimed. "And he knows about the masks."

21.

"We have a subject who wants to confess." Mason heard the excitement in Ava's voice over the phone. "He walked into the Portland police's North Precinct and asked to speak to a detective about the murders. They're transporting him to your building downtown and thought I'd give you a heads-up. I'm leaving as soon as I wrap up some paperwork at the medical examiner's office, but Zander and Nora should be there by now."

Mason glanced around the detectives' room. No one else was present. Duff Morales and Steve Hunsinger hadn't returned to work yet after Denny's death. The other Major Crimes detectives were out on calls. He'd have to go up a floor to find Nora Hawes. "Got it," he told Ava. "I'll figure out where they're bringing him. He hasn't confessed yet?"

"Once the detective realized that this person knew what he was talking about, he halted the interview and reached out to Detective Hawes, thinking the task force needed to handle the interview. Nora said he brought up the masks."

"Good move."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Nora said she'd wait for me before starting the interview." Amus.e.m.e.nt entered her tone. "She said it very deliberately. I think she was trying to hint that you shouldn't be there."

"Too bad. I'll watch through the mirror. She can't complain about that."

"Sure she can."

"She won't." I hope. He ended the call, telling her to drive safely, and jogged down the hallway to the stairs. He took them two at a time and hit the fire door from the stairwell a bit too hard, announcing his entry to everyone who worked on that floor. He knew Nora was using the room directly over his. They'd joked about running a cup-and-string system out the window for communication. Nora stepped out of a room, a file tucked under her arm.

"I see you've heard," she stated. She cut him off as he started to plead his case. "You'll stay in the observation room and you won't say a word."

"Agreed."

They moved down the hall together, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't think I'm a pushover."

"I don't." He matched his stride to hers.

"I might expect the same courtesy one day."

"I hope I never have to extend it to you," he said sincerely.

"I'm doing this for two reasons," she said firmly. "One: I want all the eyes and ears possible on this case. You were at the scene and might pick up on something I or the FBI might miss. And two: you and Denny go way back."

"I appreciate it."

"I could be risking my position."

"I'll go to bat for you. I can be very persuasive and everything's feeling disorganized in the office with Denny gone. I don't think anyone will come down on us for coloring outside the lines a bit."

"There's talk that you're being considered as Denny's replacement."

Mason tripped. "What? No. That can't be right." I'm not supervisor material.

"I've heard it from two people. It hasn't reached you?"

"Lord, no. I'd turn it down anyway."

"Why?" Green eyes turned his way.

"I'm not a boss. I don't want the headaches that come with supervising people, and I'm c.r.a.ppy at telling people what to do."

"From what I've seen you're a natural leader."

"You haven't seen much. Sure, I can manage a scene in the field. But sit behind a desk and listen to everyone's complaints? Berate a detective for breaking a rule that I probably would have broken, too? That's not for me."

"Huh."

He glanced at her. "You like doing that stuff?"

"I like people. I've had supervisory positions in the past. I've been told I do it well."

"If they come to me, I'll suggest you."

She snorted. "That'll go over well. I've been in this office for two weeks and am the only female in Major Crimes. Is this your way of getting me to go back to Salem?"

"The guys around here could use some shaking up. If you're fair, they'll be fair." I think.

She lifted an eyebrow, giving him a "You're bulls.h.i.tting me" expression.

"Maybe not," he admitted.

They worked their way to the interview rooms and found Zander waiting outside one. They stepped inside the adjacent observation room to get a look at the confessor.

"He's young!" Mason exclaimed. "There's no way . . ." He let the sentence fall away. Age didn't matter these days. Teenagers filled the headlines with their brutal crimes. Even some preteens.

"The masks might make more sense if he's our guy," said Zander. "I kept feeling there was a younger element to those choices."

"How old is he?" asked Nora.