by Inger Wolf
She glimpsed her own reflection in a mirror above a sink. Strands of black hair had loosened from her braid under her white knitted cap, and her nervous, brown almond eyes and angular cheekbones made her look like a frightened bird.
A raven, she thought. Her clan's animal.
"I can only confirm our theories up to this point," Jane said. "He was shot at close range. There's only a faint trace of gunshot residue, which means the gun was pressed against his forehead."
She measured the entrance wound. "I would say, forty caliber. The entrance wound is always a bit smaller when a shooting occurs at such close range because the skin stretches some and then contracts. And the exit wound on all three family members is bigger because the bullet hit the skull and tumbled before exiting from the back of the head. I would say from the trauma on all three that the weapon was a common handgun."
Angie licked her dry lips. The pathologist might as well have said that Asger Vad had been killed with a fork. It wouldn't be any more difficult to find the murder weapon, unless it was found in somebody's yard or some other place the killer had dumped it. Even if they stumbled onto it, proving it was, in fact, the murder weapon would be tough, since none of the bullets had been found. Gun permits weren't required in Alaska, where everyone had the right to defend themselves against the wildlife they encountered, whether at home or out in the country.
"I wouldn't count on being able to identify the murder weapon," Jane said. "It all seems very calculated to me. A crime of passion is possible, but if that's the case, he had the presence of mind to cover some of his tracks."
Jane pointed to Asger's wrist. "He'd also been tied up and tried to escape. Fought like a maniac. His skin is flayed in several places, there are wounds. That's not the case with the other victims."
Angie couldn't erase the image from her mind. "So Asger was tied up while the killer took care of the rest of the family? Is that how it happened?"
The pathologist pushed a stray hair back under her cap. "Yes. It was probably necessary. He was obviously a strong man, and I doubt it was easy to overpower him. But it also seems that he was supposed to watch it. The violation."
"What do you mean?"
The furrow between Jane's eyes deepened. "His wife was raped."
"No."
"Yes. He used a condom, and she was bitten repeatedly under her clothes. On her breasts, stomach, and thighs. And there was some bleeding around her vagina. Can you imagine? That he was forced to watch it? It's gruesome." She sighed. "But not as gruesome as watching your own son being killed. In a way, it's the sum of all these gruesome acts that makes this so thoroughly evil."
Angie felt wretched. Her braid was stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. A silence fell between them as they digested Jane's description of what happened. Someone in the building laughed loudly, and they heard a metallic sound, something being drug across a floor. What would the people of Anchorage think about this if all the details came out? The dollhouse, the rape, the violent deaths? The quiet town would panic. People would keep their children home from school. Everyone was used to dangerous animals, but nothing like this.
"All of this puzzles me," Jane finally said. "He rapes the mother, but then he takes the daughter with him. Maybe he knew the family, but Marie put up a fight, so he took her away and killed her somewhere else. Some of this doesn't make sense, anyway."
She looked worriedly at Angie and bit her lower lip. Then she walked over to the sink, pulled off her blue latex gloves, and washed her hands with her back to Angie. "I have to say, I'm pessimistic about Marie. You know how it is. Every hour that goes by, there's less chance we'll find her alive. It's almost unbearable to think about it. I'm thankful I don't have any daughters that age. Or any daughters at all."
Angie nodded and glanced at Asger one last time. What suffering had he gone through in the final minutes of his life? Who could possibly deserve that? His face gave her no answer.
"Maybe," Jane said, "the murderer got a kick out of Asger watching him rape his wife. Maybe you're hunting one of the worst sex offenders we've ever seen in Alaska. That's what bothers me. Not only that he has Marie, but that this family might not be the last."
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