Albuquerque, NM

Present Day

Betsy held her breath and unzipped the body bag, unleashing a tidal wave of acrid stink into the room. "Ugh," she exclaiming, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "That's…zesty."

Marshall mirrored her response, taking a step back from the body for good measure and impressed that Betsy held her ground. "Wuss," teased Betsy. "You want a mask?"

"Will it help?"

"No, not really," she said, shaking her head. "Hope you ate lunch already, 'cause the smell 's gonna stick with you all day." Betsy continued to open the bag, carefully tucking the plastic around the dead man. His decomposing body laid in a pool of vile liquid, his green and black mottled skin peeling from him in thin sheets. The coroner had performed an autopsy, leaving a Y-incision across his torso and another from ear to ear; maggots gathered near his nose and mouth. Betsy wrinkled her nose. "I hate maggots."

Marshall stepped towards the body and peered down. "Did you know that doctors use maggots to debride wounds of dead tissue?"

"Yes, and…ew," was Betsy's reply.

Marshall watched as Betsy hovered over the body. "Anything unusual, besides the smell?"

"The smell's bad, not unusual," she corrected. She began carefully examining the body. "Nothing's jumping at out me. Probably shot himself in the mouth—back of his skull is in more pieces than normal. Coroner kept his jaw for ID purposes, in case any clues to his identity ever surface. He looks like a guy who shot himself in his car in the middle of the desert, there's nothing here—" Betsy froze. She'd lifted the decedent's left arm, exposing a tattoo on his hip. A panther snarled at her, red eyes gleaming, massive teeth bared and claws outstretched. Bile burned the back of her throat. She gently let go of the man's arm, and focused on his face, softly touching his swollen eyes.

"Bets, what is it?" asked Marshall.

Betsy shook her head and tears spilled down her cheeks; tossing her gloves in the biohazard trash, she backed up until she was leaning against the desk, no longer certain of her legs' ability to support her. Her eyes met Marshall's. "I know why they couldn't ID him. He's not from around here."