Dark Harbor by David Hosp Read Free Book Online

learned at a young age. Psychiatrists called it “compartmentalization”: the ability to separate feelings, memories, and tasks. It was a useful skill in dealing with difficult issues while still leading a useful, productive, even successful life. Finn was an expert at it.
    He took two more deep breaths, then lifted his head.
    “Okay, I’m ready.”
    The three arrived at the ME’s office twenty minutes later. As they walked down the corridor to where the junior coroner had laid out Natalie’s body, Flaherty realized that she felt sorry for Finn—and that was rare for her. When you spend your time wading hip deep in human tragedy, you become numb to the pain of those around you. You have to in order to survive. You say the right things to the grieving widows, and you wear the proper facial expressions to convince the victims’ families of your sincere and heartfelt condolences, but you never really let it in.
    For some reason, this was different. Maybe it was because she’d seen something in the dead woman’s eyes the first time she looked over the embankment wall at the body floating in the water. Flaherty felt like she’d glimpsed the woman Natalie Caldwell had been: strong, confident, unapologetic. It was an image Flaherty identified with as a woman in a brutally unforgiving, predominantly male profession. And now, watching Scott Finn’s face, she saw her intuition confirmed. In seeming homage to Caldwell’s strength, he didn’t wail or cry the way so many others did when confronted by death. Nor did he look away when the sheet was pulled back. His expression was stoic and reserved, with just a slight twitch at the corner of his eye, and a drawing together of his lips.
    “That’s her,” he said. He reached out his hand and stroked her hair. It was matted and stiff, as though to provide further evidence of her death. His eyes watered, but he kept the tears from falling. “I’m sorry, Nat,” he said. Then he pulled his hand away.
    Flaherty nodded at the junior coroner, who pulled up the sheet over Natalie Caldwell’s face and carefully slid her body back into the refrigerated drawer that had become her home. When the drawer closed, a latch caught with a loud crack that signaled finality. Flaherty watched Finn as he continued to stare at the drawer’s door, lost in thought. Once again, she felt sorry for him.
    “Thank you for doing this,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I know it wasn’t easy.”
    “Is that all you need?” Finn asked, still staring with empty eyes at the door that had swallowed his friend.
    “Yeah, that should do it for now.”
    “You’ll be around if we need to ask you any questions, right?” Kozlowski asked. Flaherty cringed. Her partner had the sensitivity of a pit bull.
    Finn’s gaze moved from the drawer to Kozlowski, narrowing as it bore straight through his forehead. Flaherty saw the change instantly. The grief that had been there only a moment before had been replaced by something else. Rage. Finn’s face reflected an anger so intense that Flaherty thought for a moment he might actually attack Kozlowski. It was a determined rage, and Flaherty didn’t like it. She stepped in between the two men.
    “We’ll contact you if we need anything else,” she said to Finn.
    He turned and looked at her. His eyes softened a bit, and the sadness returned. “If there’s anything I can do to help the investigation, let me know.” With that, he turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t look at Kozlowski again.
    “What an asshole,” Kozlowski said when he was gone.
    Flaherty nodded. “Yeah, you two make a great pair.”
    “What the hell did I do?” Kozlowski protested. “He was the one who was jerking us around from the start; pulling his hot-shot lawyer bullshit. I’m telling you, I’ve got a nasty feeling about that guy. He’s hiding something. Anyway, he needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”
    “Well, if anyone would be an expert on