The Brilliant Pathologist And Her Stoic Cop

It was 2:00 AM.

Justice stood in the carpeted hallway outside Darius Cash's penthouse. He was strapped into a heavy tactical vest, his hand resting on the grip of his Glock.

He raised his left hand and gave two sharp chops in the air.

The SWAT officer beside him swung the heavy steel battering ram forward. It smashed into the custom wood door with a deafening crash.

The lock shattered. The door flew open.

"NYPD! Hands in the air!" the tactical team screamed, flooding into the foyer.

Justice stepped through the doorway.

Instantly, a smell hit him like a physical blow to the face.

It was a thick, sickly-sweet stench of rotting meat. It coated the back of his throat and made his stomach heave violently.

This wasn't a suspect apprehension. This was a tomb.

Justice tapped the comms unit on his helmet. "Masks on. Watch your step."

He pulled his gas mask over his face. The filtered air barely cut through the stench.

The penthouse was massive, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. But the central air had been turned off. The apartment was a greenhouse, baking in the residual heat of the city, accelerating the decay.

Justice followed the smell down the long hallway.

He pushed open the ajar door to the master bedroom.

A cloud of green blowflies erupted into the air, buzzing furiously against the glass windows.

Justice shined his tactical flashlight onto the massive circular bed.

A male body lay in the center.

It was bloated to the point of bursting. The skin was a dark, mottled green, tight and shiny. The facial features were completely erased by the swelling.

Justice walked closer, his boots squishing slightly on the bodily fluids that had seeped into the mattress.

On the nightstand sat a framed photograph of Darius Cash.

Justice looked at the wrist of the corpse. A limited-edition Patek Philippe watch was cutting deep into the swollen, green flesh.

It was Darius.

Justice keyed his radio. "Dispatch, we have a DOA at the Cash residence. Get CSU and the ME down here now."

He backed out of the bedroom, needing to escape the flies.

In the living room, he found a massive glass liquor cabinet shattered across the floor. The pungent smell of dried whiskey mixed with the rot.

"Detective!" an officer called out from the study.

Justice walked over. The officer pointed his flashlight at the floor in front of an open wall safe.

Small, bloody footprints tracked across the hardwood. They were definitely female. The safe was completely empty.

Justice pulled out his phone. He stood in the middle of the putrid living room and dialed Kylee's number.

She picked up on the first ring. "Did you get him?" Her voice was cold and sharp.

Justice took a deep breath inside his mask. "Darius is dead, Kylee. Judging by the bloat and the smell, he's been dead for at least a week."

Silence stretched over the line. Five full seconds passed.

"That's impossible," Kylee finally said. Her brain was tearing the timeline apart. "If he's been dead a week, he couldn't have dropped his lighter in Dana's couch yesterday."

"Someone planted his stuff at Dana's place," Justice said. "They framed a dead man."

"I am coming to the scene. I need to see the body," Kylee demanded.

"No. Dr. Vance is already on his way. You stay put," Justice ordered.

The line went dead. Kylee had hung up on him.

Justice sighed, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

The CSU team arrived, their heavy boots tramping into the pristine penthouse. Dr. Vance walked in behind them, looking miserable as he smeared Vicks VapoRub under his nose.

Vance leaned over the bed. "Deep ligature marks around the neck," he mumbled. "Strangled."

Justice stared at the green corpse. This wasn't a crime of passion anymore. This was a labyrinth.

Suddenly, the radio on his shoulder crackled to life.

"All units, we have a 10-54 at the abandoned rail warehouse in Queens. Female victim."

Justice closed his eyes. The nightmare was just starting.