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around the landing fields, some parts of it in dense areas. Finding a body there was nothing new. People seemed to think that no one ever walked the fence of the airport, and if they dumped a body there, it would be months, if not years, before it was found.
    I remember when I worked uniform, we would frequently put bets on who would be the first officer to find a body inside the airport fence in the spring. Most of the body-dumping there occurred in winter months, when the snow was so deep no one would think to look. However, with this particular murder, the body had been thrown over a section of the fence that lined a moderately driven roadway. Anyone would see it. Again, whoever was responsible had made no attempt to hide it.
    Naomi and Coop were already on the scene when I arrived, Naomi the first to wave me over.
    “It looks the same as Daniel Huber. We’ve possibly got a serial killer on our hands,” she said.
    “No, he’s not a serial killer. He’s a multiple murderer ,” I corrected her.
    “Sorry, I forgot.”
    People automatically assume that if one person commits more than one murder, they are deemed a “serial killer.” This is incorrect. Only if law enforcement can prove that the murders are driven bysexual motivation does the term apply. Bundy, Gacy, and Dahmer committed their crimes out of their own sexual urges, making each one of them a serial killer. If you take the sexual aspect out of the crime, the term multiple murderer or mass murderer applies. To my knowledge, there was no indication of sexual trauma or gratification in the Daniel Huber murder, just as I suspected there would be none here. This reasoning also applies to child molesters. Most people call pedophiles child molesters. Again, not true. Only when a pedophile physically acts out his urges on a child does he become a child molester. Although rare, there are a few pedophiles in the world who will never be a child molester.
    Naomi led me to the body, which looked eerily similar to Daniel Huber’s, except John Kruse had both hands. His right side cut almost in half, he was naked and lying on his back without an ounce of blood in sight.
    “Liver again?” I bent over the body, straining to see inside the wound.
    “Not just the liver. According to the coroner, from what he could see, he’s missing his liver and a kidney.”
    “Both!” I looked at Coop, who had joined us, and anticipating my next question, he answered it.
    “No. There’s no one on the waiting list for both, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
    “Well, I guess that shoots my angered-relative-of-a-person-in-need-of-an-organ theory right in the ass.” I sighed. “I suppose he was homeless, too?”
    “It looks that way,” answered Naomi. “The shelter actually called us yesterday inquiring about filing a missing-persons report. I guess he was a frequent visitor who at least checked in daily for food andstuff. They hadn’t seen him for several days, which they thought unusual.”
    “Fuck.” I looked at Coop. “Now what?”
    “Funny you ask. I was watching TV earlier tonight, and there was a show that had some type of black-market organ-removal ring. I didn’t know such a thing existed. I’d say it’s something we might want to look into.”
    “You’re right, Coop.” I had an epiphany. “And I know just where to start.”

C HAPTER T HREE
    It was time I contacted the doctors associated with the Quinn-Herstin Funeral Home. To Naomi and Coop’s surprise, I told them I would be in touch, before starting toward my car. Coop, resorting to a slow jog, caught up to me.
    “CeeCee! What do you think you’re doing? We’ve got a homicide scene to work.”
    “I’m well aware of that, and I’m investigating it. Just not here.” I opened my car door and got in. “You and Naomi can take care of things just fine. Trust me—this is something that needs to be done.”
    He stood quietly and shook his head as I drove away. While heading toward the department, I