Forensic Girlfriend

Chapter 2: The Cop

Same Night, Different Part of the City

Sergeant Madison Cole didn't believe in fate.

She believed in evidence. Procedure. The chain of custody. She believed in the things you could prove and the things you couldn't, and she'd learned long ago that most of the things people called "fate" were just random noise dressed up in meaning.

But sometimes—sometimes—she wondered.

Tonight, she sat in her boss's office at the LAPD's downtown headquarters, watching the rain through the blinds. Deputy Chief Harrison was on the phone, waving one hand vaguely in her direction. She waited. She was good at waiting.

"Sorry about that." Harrison hung up and leaned back in his chair. He was sixty-two, overweight, and had the kind of face that looked like it had given up on smiling years ago. "The Nguyen case is turning into a circus."

"I heard." Maddy kept her voice neutral. "Vera Lin testified today."

"Yeah." Harrison's jaw tightened. "She did."

They sat in silence for a moment. The rain hammered the window.

"You know what she said to the cameras afterward?" Harrison asked.

Maddy shook her head.

"She said the truth doesn't give a damn about feelings." Harrison laughed—a short, bitter sound. "Can you believe that? The woman who's spent the last five years helping criminals walk, talking about truth."

"She's good at her job."

"She's a menace." Harrison leaned forward. "And now she's working in our city. Our jurisdiction. The ME's office hired her six weeks ago, and I've already got three defense attorneys asking for case reviews."

Maddy said nothing. She'd learned long ago that when the boss was ranting, the best thing to do was listen.

"I need you to work with her."

That got her attention. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Harrison pulled a file from his drawer and slid it across the desk. "Homicide in the park. Jane Doe, found this evening. The ME's office assigned it to Lin."

Maddy opened the file. Photos. Notes. A woman's body, bloated and pale, half-hidden in reeds. No obvious wounds. No ID.

"Her first case with us," Harrison said. "I want you on it. Keep an eye on her. Make sure she follows procedure."

"Sir, I'm a detective, not a babysitter."

"I know what you are." Harrison's eyes were tired. "I also know you're the only one in this building who won't let her get under your skin. The others—" He shook his head. "They'll either fight her or kiss up to her. You'll do neither. You'll just do your job."

Maddy thought about arguing. Then she thought about the woman in the photos—the Jane Doe in the reeds, waiting for someone to speak for her.

"Fine," she said. "But if she's as bad as everyone says, I'm not covering for her."

"Wouldn't expect you to."

The Morgue, 1:00 AM

The building was mostly empty this time of night. Just the overnight security guard and the occasional CSI tech working late.

Maddy found the autopsy suite easily enough—followed the smell. Formaldehyde and decay and something else, something sharp and chemical she couldn't name.

The door was half-open. She pushed through.

Vera Lin stood over the body in full protective gear: gown, gloves, mask, face shield. Only her eyes were visible—dark, intense, completely focused on the work. A scalpel in her right hand. A pair of forceps in her left. Music played from somewhere—classical, violin, soft.

She didn't look up.

"The report said you'd be here," Maddy said.

Vera still didn't look up. "The report was right."

"You're not supposed to start without a detective present."

"I'm not starting. I'm observing." Vera made an incision—smooth, practiced, like she'd done it a thousand times before. "Observing doesn't require an audience."

Maddy walked closer. The body on the table was young. Female. Late twenties, maybe. The face was swollen—water damage—but underneath it, you could see she'd been pretty. Dark hair. Good bone structure.

"Jane Doe," Maddy said. "Found in Echo Park Lake around 7 PM. No ID, no obvious wounds."

"No obvious external wounds." Vera corrected her without looking up. "The interesting stuff is always inside."

She worked in silence for a few minutes. Maddy watched. The violin music swelled and faded.

"What's your theory?" Maddy asked finally.

Vera glanced up—just for a second. "My theory?"

"Yeah. Drowning? Overdose? What killed her?"

"Her lungs are full of water, so technically, drowning." Vera paused, scalpel hovering. "But the water in her lungs isn't the same as the water in the lake."

Maddy frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means she drowned somewhere else. Somewhere with salt water. Then someone moved her body to the lake."

"Salt water? We're two hours from the coast."

"I know." Vera went back to work. "Which means either the killer drove a dead body two hours in a car—risky, stupid—or she died somewhere else entirely and the killer brought her here for reasons we don't understand yet."

Maddy processed that. "Could be personal. The killer wanted her found here for some reason."

"Could be." Vera shrugged. "Could be a lot of things. That's your job, not mine."

She reached for something—a bone saw—and Maddy decided she'd seen enough for one night.

"I'll be in touch," she said, heading for the door.

"Detective."

Maddy stopped. Turned.

Vera had finally looked up. Those dark eyes were studying her now—assessing, measuring. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Someone older. More... beaten down." Vera tilted her head. "You still have that look. Like you actually believe you can make a difference."

Maddy didn't know how to answer that. So she didn't.

She walked out.

Behind her, the bone saw started whining.

Three Hours Later

Maddy sat in her car in the parking lot, drinking cold coffee and watching the sun come up.

She should go home. Shower. Sleep for a few hours before the day started. Instead, she sat here, thinking about Jane Doe's face. About Vera Lin's eyes. About all the things that didn't add up.

Her phone buzzed. A text from the lab: Toxicology pending. Silica test sent to state lab. ETA 48 hours.

Forty-eight hours. Plenty of time for evidence to get lost, witnesses to forget things, killers to cover their tracks.

Maddy started the car.

She drove to Echo Park Lake.

The Lake, 6:00 AM

The scene was different in daylight. Less scary. Just a regular park with regular trees and regular benches and regular joggers already starting their morning routines.

Maddy walked to the spot where the body had been found. The reeds were still crushed flat. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze.

She stood there for a long time, looking.

If she were a killer, would she dump a body here? Too public. Too many people. Unless—

Unless she didn't have a choice.

Unless this wasn't just a dump site. Unless this was part of it.

Maddy got down on her hands and knees and started searching. Mud. Grass. Rocks. Nothing.

She kept searching.

Twenty minutes later, her fingers closed around something small and cold.

A ring. Silver. Plain. No stones, no decoration. Just a simple band with a letter engraved inside: J.

Maddy bagged it, stood up, and looked at the lake.

The water was still. Calm. Giving nothing away.