No. That was both a relief and a frustration. No, she hadn't seen it. Which left them with no answers, but it meant the thing probably wasn't right there. She was lucky that she hadn't seen it. That she'd only seen the...
Wait. Staples? Confused, Marcus straightened and looked back over at the body, trying to figure out what she'd meant by that. No I just saw the staples. Well, that was just fucking great. It did rule out the heart harvester, at least. That thing didn't even attempt to put things back together after it got what it needed.
It felt surreal. The girl-in-distress, the crumpled body that had apparently been stapled back together at some point... the sudden presence of the house manager just fit, somehow. Of course Eli would suddenly appear. If it were a dream, however, it would have been his ex-wife, and there probably wouldn't be that oil-and-cement smell that clung to parking structures. No, this was no dream. It was a situation.
Marcus swallowed, taking a beat to force himself into his role. Tension knit his muscles into iron cords. He could deal with this shit. He could deal with any amount of shit. He'd made that promise to Archer Avery years before, when desperation had made him a lot more cocksure. Whatever it was, he'd roll with it, so long as the money was there. Even when it made no sense. Even when it was dangerous. Even when it involved crying women and body bags. Marcus could handle it, and had handled it thus far.
But fuck, man, he was starting to feel some cracks forming... and those fucking staples weren't helping. Nevertheless, his own voice was gruff, still more angry than panicked. He earned his paycheck by playing the part of the rock, after all. When Marcus turned his head to lock eyes with Eli, his color was sliding towards the pale side of off, but otherwise he stood strong. His voice was reassuringly firm and deliberately calm. "We got a fucking situation, 'mano. Boulstridge needs to know about it, the doc needs to see it. Maybe take this lady to Archer on the way?"
No mention of cops. This could be one of theirs, or a message to one of theirs. Regardless, Marcus doubted they'd want the town authorities involved. It would be handled in house. His attention shifted back to Rachel. "You okay with that, chica? He'll want you to tell him, yourself."
More than that, he thought she'd benefit from the seraphim's calming presence. It wasn't hard for Marcus to believe that Rachel didn't know anything. That she'd just stumbled on a body, and had nothing more to contribute than that. But someone had to take a close look at the thing. Someone had to walk around the fucking parking garage and poke his head in the shadows. That someone was going to have to be him. Better for her to go with Eli, back into the building where it was presumably safe, than get dragged along on a preliminary walk-through.