Mind Prey

got this…” Lucas shuffled through the papers. “His folks lived at 28 Sharf Lane in Wayzata. Goddamnit, that’s where McPherson said he was from.”
    “Who?”
    “Just get that shit, man. This is something.”
    Off the phone again, he went through the file on Mail and found the reference to the dental records. Damnit. He got his book, looked up the Medical Examiner’s number.
    “Sharon, this is Lucas Davenport…yeah, fine, it’s all healed up, yeah, listen, I need you to pull something for me. You should have some records on a guy named John Mail went off the Lake Street Bridge a few years back, I can get you the date if you need it. John Mail. Yeah, I’ll wait.”
    Ten seconds later, she was back. Mail was on the computer. “Just hold it there,” Lucas said. “I’m gonna run over right now.”
    Lucas was out the door and down the street, a fast five-minute walk to the Medical Examiner’s. An ME investigator named Brunswick was peering at a computer.
    “Something hot?” he asked.
    “You say a guy is dead,” Lucas said. “I think he might still be alive.”
    “Well, the guy we saw was dead,” Brunswick said. “I’ve been looking at the pictures.” He passed a group of eight-by-ten color photographs to Lucas. The remains of the body, still partly wrapped in the remains of a pair of Levi’s blue jeans, was spread on a stainless steel table. Most of it was bone, although the torso looked like a gray ball of string or grass. The face was gone, but the dark hair was still there. Both hands were missing, as was one leg.
    “Bad shape. Were the hands—is that natural? Is there any possibility they were taken off?”
    Brunswick shook his head. “No way to tell. The body was falling apart. The one unusual thing is that there was evidence of a ligature around the torso—wire, or something. God knows, in that part of the Mississippi, it could have been anything.”
    “Could somebody have anchored the body somewhere? Until it was ready to be found?”
    “You’ve got a nasty turn of mind, Davenport.”
    “But you already thought of that,” Lucas said.
    “Yeah. And it’s possible. Whatever it was tied him down, had him for a while. Nearly cut the body through, in the end. There was no sign of any ligature when the body was found, though.”
    “What about the dental records?”
    “It’s the right guy, by the records. Here are the X-rays on the body, and you can see the dental X-rays.”
    Lucas bent over them and looked: they were patently identical. In the corner of the dental records was a response phone number at the state hospital. Lucas picked up Brunswick’s phone and punched the number in.
    “Can’t be right,” Lucas said.
    A woman answered. Lucas identified himself and said, “I need to talk to Dr. L. D. Rehder, does he still work there? I’m sorry, she? Yeah, it really is important. Yeah.”
    To Brunswick, he said, “I’m on hold.”
    Brunswick said, “Is this the Manette case?”
    “Part of it,” Lucas said.
    “My wife went on a march last night to protest violence against women,” Brunswick said.
    “Hope it works,” Lucas said.
    On the phone, a woman said, “This is Dr. Rehder.”
    “Yeah, Dr. Rehder, some time ago one of your patients apparently committed suicide. The body ID was confirmed by dental records from your office,” Lucas said. “A kid named John Mail.”
    “I remember John.” Her voice was pleasantly clipped. “He was with us for quite a while.”
    “Is there any way he could’ve gotten to the records to switch them with somebody else’s? I mean, before he got out of the hospital?”
    “Oh, I don’t think so. He was confined in a completely different area. He would have had to escape over there, break in here without being detected, then get out of here and break back in over there. It would have been very difficult.”
    “Damnit,” Lucas said.
    “Is there some question about whether it was John who jumped off the bridge?” Rehder asked.
    “Yes. Have you by any chance seen the police composite pictures of the man who kidnapped Mrs. Manette and her daughters?”
    Rehder said, “Yes, I have. John had dark hair.”
    “He may have changed the hair color…”
    “Just a minute, let me get my paper.”
    “Getting her paper,” Lucas said to Brunswick. He shuffled through the pictures of the body while they waited. Then Rehder came back on and said, “If the hair was changed, if the hair was black, I’ve just colored it in with my