My Supernatural Gift

The dull pounding echoed through the crematorium's back lot, making the windowpanes tremble.

I pulled off my mask and kicked open the steel door to the autopsy room.

"What are you banging on the door for? If you wake the dead, who's taking responsibility?

"I charge by the case. If one of them wakes up, that's another five grand!"

Two people stood outside, rainwater dripping from their coats.

On the left was Summer Hill, captain of the Major Crimes Unit, her face dark.

On the right was Emma Wilson, a loan shark from South City. An unlit cigarette hung from her mouth, and her eyes were bloodshot.

Emma grabbed the doorframe. "Mark. Two hundred thousand. Help me read someone."

Summer immediately elbowed her aside.

"I’m on police business. Since when do you get to cut in line?

"Mark, change and come with me."

"Captain Hill, that's not exactly fair, is it?" Emma shouted and stuck out her chin.

"He's not a cop, and I'm willing to pay! Why can't he take my job?"

"The body is important evidence. Unrelated personnel need to stay out of it!"

"She owes me fifteen million dollars! I just want to know where she hid the money before she died! How does that conflict with your case?"

"Shut up!"

I knocked on the stainless-steel doorframe, silencing both of them.

"Two jobs? Fine. Emma, double the market rate. Four hundred thousand."

Emma's cheek twitched. After gritting her teeth, she nodded.

"Deal! In cash."

"And Captain Hill? How much can the department approve?"

Summer's face darkened even more.

"Five thousand. Special investigative stipend.

"Mark, it's a murder case. Stop thinking about money!”

I turned to shut the door.

"Five thousand? That's insulting.

"I'm not doing it. Take the body and get off my property."

"Mark!" Summer grabbed the door.

"This body is different. Amelia Fernandez was from the seafood market. Someone used an ice pick and drove it through her left ear straight into her brain."

"How is this different? Isn't she just as dead as everyone else?"

"There wasn't a single sign of struggle. Even under her fingernails was clean!"

Summer stared at me. "The medical examiner ruled it a suicide."

"Who can drive an ice pick into their own brain and not struggle?"

"I want you to read her."

I rubbed my fingers together. "Five thousand is too little. Up the fee."

Without another word, Summer took the Rolex off her wrist and slapped it onto the table.

"Add this. Now get to work!"

I slipped the watch into my pocket and stepped aside.

"Bring the body in."

The body bag was unzipped.

Cold air drifted out.

A bluish female corpse lay on the autopsy table. A dark-red blood clot had formed along the edge of her left ear.

I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and placed my hand on the victim’s rigid forehead.

Then I closed my eyes.

The cold sensation climbed up from my fingertips.

The vision began dark.

In the memory, Amelia Fernandez was kneeling on the ground, trembling all over.

In front of her sat a woman in a white lab coat and gold-rimmed glasses.

The woman held out an ice pick, her voice gentle and low as she said, "Put it in. Your husband's loan-shark debt can only be settled once you’re dead.

"You're useless. This is the only thing you can do for him.

"Come on. Aim a little more carefully."

There was a strange rhythm to her voice.

Amelia’s eyes gradually lost focus.

Mechanically, she gripped the ice pick until, little by little, she drove it into her own ear.

There was no scream, only a strange sense of relief.

I suddenly opened my eyes. My heartbeat quickened, and my palms were slick with cold sweat.

"What did you see?"

Summer immediately grabbed my arm.

I pulled free and wiped my fingers with a towel.

"Emma, out of that fifteen million, ten million is gone."

"What do you mean?!"

Emma's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Before she died, Amelia Fernandez converted the remaining five million into gold bars and melted them into the steel tubing of her husband's wheelchair."

Emma shuddered.

The cigarette fell from her mouth before she turned and ran for the door like a madwoman.

"Shit! Somebody get moving! Get to her house and take the wheelchair!"

"Captain Hill." I turned toward Summer.

"The medical examiner wasn't completely wrong."

Summer froze. "How is that possible?"

"She really did kill herself. She drove the ice pick in herself.

"This wasn't an ordinary suicide. It was induced through deep hypnosis.

"Someone used words to destroy her will to live and suggest that she should die."

Summer's voice trembled. "Who? Did you see who it was?"

"A woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat. Her voice was very refined."

The color drained from Summer's face.

Her lips trembled.

After a long moment, she finally spoke a name.

"Stella McPhee..."