Never Happened. Debra Webb

the eyeball, something other than dust on the surface caught her attention.

      She tried to lift it loose but her gloves wouldn’t allow for the fine motor effort. Carrying the eyeball loosely in the palm of her hand she went in search of tweezers.

      After a few frustrating failures she finally lifted what looked like a contact lens off the delicate surface. She dropped the eyeball in the hazmat bag but kept the lens to examine it further. This was no ordinary vision enhancer. This sucker was way thicker than the usual lens. Then again, the victim had been well past his prime. But even someone half-blind wouldn’t have needed a lens this thick and, now that she thought about it, large. The damned thing was as big as a nickel.

      And there was something metallic looking around the edges. Very strange, kind of sci-fi-like.

      She was pretty sure Henson would think she was nuts, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d had the same briefing everyone in her line of work received. Anything suspicious should be reported. No exceptions. No hesitation.

      Alex bagged the lens and, after removing her right glove, used her cell to call Henson. He answered on the second ring.

      “Hey, Henson, this is Alex.” She stared at the object in the bag and hesitated, but only for a second. “Look, I found an eyeball from the vic.”

      He chuckled. “The guy blew his brains out. The M.E. shouldn’t have any trouble confirming cause of death without an eyeball. Just toss it.”

      Alex rolled her eyes. She’d known he would get in a crack of some sort. Henson was one of those guys who thought he had a stand-up comic’s sense of humor. She was too nice to tell him any different. Apparently so was everyone else he knew and worked with. He would make a good husband and father. She’d had that same thought more than once during their brief “thing.” But she wasn’t into commitment. Maybe that’s why she’d backed off so quickly.

      Where the hell had that thought come from? She gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. She wasn’t afraid of commitment…she just wasn’t interested.

      “It’s not the eyeball that I’m calling about.” She frowned, studying the lens more closely. “The guy was wearing some kind of weird contact lens. I’ve never seen anything like it. Maybe it’s nothing, but I think you need to see this for yourself.”

      After the usual joke about how some ladies would come up with any kind of excuse to enjoy his company, he promised to swing back by the scene pronto.

      Alex put her phone away, stashed the lens in a safe place, and did what she’d come there to do.

      She was nearly finished wiping away the ugly event by the time Henson showed up.

      “Had another call,” he said by way of apology for his tardiness.

      She lifted her shoulders. “No problem. I’ll be here a little longer.”

      He looked around, made one of those sounds that meant wow, and said, “It’s hard to believe it comes this clean.”

      She handed him the Ziploc bag. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

      His typical comeback wasn’t forthcoming; he was too busy visually examining the lens or whatever the hell it was.

      “Weird, huh?” Alex couldn’t help feeling a little vindicated by his apparent interest.

      Too preoccupied to respond, he squinted to make out more details. Finally he said, “It looks almost like some kind of computer chip.” His gaze met hers. “You say this was on the guy’s eye?”

      She nodded. “Stuck on the surface, over the iris, just like a contact lens.” She’d forgotten that Henson was big into the whole electronics-techno world.

      “I’ll have it checked out. I’ve got a buddy over in Morningside who’s deep into computer technology. Stays on the very edge of what’s new and hot. Maybe he can at least identify what it is. He’s done this kind of thing for me before. He loves this stuff.” Henson arrowed a knowing look at Alex. “The kid should be working at the state crime lab. He’s that good and he’s fast.”

      She’d done her good deed for the day and wanted to get on with her work and get out of there. “Let me know what you find out.”

      Clearly still in a world of his own, Henson nodded as he turned away. “Will do.”

      He left without another last-ditch attempt to entice her to go out with him, without even a see ya around. That was just like a man. No matter that for months he’d endeavored to woo her to go on another date, he could still be distracted by a new toy.

      After a few more minutes of elbow grease and a final look around, Alex decided it was as good as it was going to get. The only thing she hadn’t been able to rectify was the bullet hole in the paneling. It might not have been so noticeable if the forensics tech hadn’t gouged the bullet out of the two-by-four it had lodged itself into. Drywall she could repair; paneling, that was a whole other problem. Maybe the landlord could hang a picture on the wall to cover the damage or fill it and just paint the whole room.

      Now for her least favorite part of the job; collecting payment. This business was cash-and-carry, no thirty days to pay, strictly payment due at time of services. She did accept Visa and MasterCard, though, and, if she knew the individual well enough, personal checks. As much as she disliked this part, it was essential to get payment as quickly as possible since it was all too easy for money to end up spent on the living.

      She dropped the hazmat bags containing the refuse, all the cleaning rags associated with the job, as well as the suit, gloves and shoe covers she’d worn, at the disposal center then headed to the landlord’s property office. With her payment collected she was done for the day.

      Maybe she’d stop by the office on the way home and maybe she wouldn’t. Right now a shower and then a long hot bath sounded far too inviting to waste time sparring with her crew. It was past closing time anyway. Most would be out of there already.

      Tomorrow was another day, and in a teeming city like Miami, as well as all its suburbs, where drug deals went wrong and gangs got even, there was always plenty of job security for a woman in her line of work.

      Cleaning up after the dead wasn’t exactly a market one had to fear would dry up.

      CHAPTER 2

      Twelve miles of calm waters, clean sands and swaying palm trees. Alex breathed deeply of the late-summer evening air as she cruised along Ocean Boulevard, allowing that saltwater essence to clean the stench of death from her lungs. God, she loved everything about Miami Beach. Maybe she didn’t live in one of the upscale art deco homes in this world-renowned neighborhood, but she didn’t care. This was home…stunning, intoxicating…and forever youthful.

      Age was irrelevant here. No one cared how old you were because everyone dressed and behaved young at heart. Whether they were soaking up the rays or haunting the designer shops, locals and tourists alike sauntered to the beat of a different tune—one filled with Latin heat and the primal lust of the tropical landscape.

      She leaned against the headrest and let the pleasant breeze caress her face. The perfect climate and the lush scenery might draw the world to Miami but it was the eclectic blend of people that made this city so unique. Cubans, Colombians, Peruvians and Venezuelans made up fifty percent of the population. Not surprising that Spanish was the primary language. The news from Havana or Caracas was more often than not the talk on the street.

      Speaking of people, as traffic slowed near 10th Street, Alex braked and watched couples glide into the Casa Casuarina, a hotel that was once home to the revered designer Gianni Versace. Not even the fabulous architecture could detract from the gorgeous patrons flowing into the ritzy joint. Men with wash-board stomachs and bulging pecs were outfitted in the still famous Miami Vice Sonny Crockett look with their loose-fitting linen slacks and silk shirts. Soft pastels were sharply contrasted by richly tanned skin. Alex sighed as she studied the appetizing smorgasbord of pleasing male specimens. Just part of the everyday landscape