Excerpt: Bad Medicine

There were about twenty people standing around between officers, crime lab techs, and the coroner's assistant waiting to take the body. She walked up to one of the officers who was taking notes. "What's the word?" He jerked his chin towards the corner where most of the activity was going on. "I believe the word is fucked. Somebody did a job on this guy. Looks like he got stabbed about a gazillion times. His name is Michael Graf. Not a high mucky-muck, but he's one of their development guys. From what I gather it's not unusual for him to be here after hours. Got his jacket from personnel. The company head isn't coming down, but they notified him after the 911 call and he got on the horn quick to some of his people. Probably afraid this will cause his stock to plummet. You'll be happy though, we got an eyewitness." "No shit, really?" "Yeah, some lady works here. She's a 'research analyst,' whatever that is. They got her upstairs in a conference room. She's the one made the 911 call, guess the guy saw her and came after her, she managed to get herself locked in somewhere and called us. He ran."