Skin Puppet

by Jeffery Craig

  “Hi, ya’ll.” Her bright, cheerful voice practically bounced off the too-close walls. “It sure is warm in here. I guess the temperature hasn’t been adjusted to account for the warm spell.”

  Mitchell privately thought the uncomfortable air in the room was more related to the pending topic of conversation and maybe a lack of proper ventilation than to the slight shift in season. However, to be polite, he smiled in agreement. “You’re probably right, Dr. Bridges. I think we’re all surprised it’s finally warmed up. Although, it’s about time. April’s just a week away and we are in the South, after all. Still, I wish whoever designed this place had thought to include a ceiling fan or two.”

  Any response was deferred when Chief Kelly entered the room and closed the door. Mitchell inwardly groaned as he realized now it’d really get hot in here. He reached up and eased another button out of its hole. To hell with a professional image.

  “All right, let’s hear what you’ve got. Keep it short. I’ve got other things to attend to.” Kelly’s voice was too loud for the now-crowded space, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Thorton, start it off.”

  Mitchell allowed a small sigh of relief to escape his lips as his partner took the lead in bringing Kelly up to speed on the case. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk at all. He allowed his mind to roam while Chuck described their response to the call this morning. “Has it really only been eight hours?” he wondered. “Seems like it happened a week or more ago.” He refocused his attention back on the conversation when the Chief snapped out the question that was in the forefront of everyone’s mind.

  “Do you think this dead body’s tied to those other missing kids?”

  It was his tone, more than his words, which struck Mitchell as being callous. Thorton must have felt the same, because it took him a minute to answer.

  “Sir, at this point, we have to assume she is. The victim fits the profile.”

  “What’s the count so far?”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “What’s the total count of goddamned missing kids so far, Detective? It’s a pretty simple question.”

  “Eight. Eight that we know of, counting this girl.”

  The Chief merely grunted at the information. “Anderson?”

  Mitchell shifted slightly in his chair while he waited on the head of the crime team to respond.

  Tom flipped back a page in his notes and began to lay out the basic facts. “My team responded to the call received this morning at 7:10 AM. The call was originally routed to the Sheriff’s office who referred it on to our city dispatch. We arrived at the scene at 7:48 AM, about five minutes after Detectives Thorton and Mitchell, and proceeded to secure the area. The victim was found by a morning commuter when she noticed some wildlife scavenging in an area about fifteen yards off of a farm maintenance road, about six feet from the edge of a heavy wooded area.”

  Mitchell was struck by Anderson’s total lack of emotion as he relayed the morning’s events. Usually, Tom allowed more of his underlying feelings to show, sometimes even cushioning the horror of a situation with a disparaging remark or a show of frustration. He was always professional, and the dry, acerbic wit that often accompanied his summations never got in the way of his presentation of the cold, hard facts or clouded the solid analytical reasoning responsible for aiding in the successful closure of countless cases. Mitchell had learned over the past few months to recognize the man’s manner of coping, and to acknowledge and respect it for what it was. Everyone on the force covered the toll the job took from them differently, and that was Anderson’s approach. This morning’s discovery had either hit Anderson hard, or there was something else going on.

  “The vic was placed in a shallow grave, which was discovered and disturbed by animal activity,” Anderson continued. “The evidence shows a small amount of brush had been cleared or trampled in the area, perhaps while the hole was being excavated and during the disposal of the body by persons unknown. There’s no evidence of car or truck tracks in the immediate area, which leads me to assume the body was carried from the road. The litter and debris in the area is pretty much what’s expected. My team collected everything within a twenty foot radius and are combing through it now. I gave it a quick look while at the scene, and nothing unusual or unexpected jumped out at me. We might learn more after the analysis of the material continues.”

  “Anything unusual about the dead girl? Other than the fact she was dead and dumped in the woods?”

  Again with the tone. Anderson took a very visible breath, and Mitchell thought he was only a split hair away from reacting. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed when Tom looked down at the notebook, reviewing his written impressions of the crime scene.

  “The body was in pretty bad shape, and shows substantial damage from animals and insects. We’ve taken samples of larvae and tissue for further analysis to pinpoint time of death. However, I think Dr. Evans will be providing further information regarding cause and timeline in her own summary, and already has a pretty good idea of when the victim was killed. Other than that, the victim was clothed in a gray smock, which appears to be handmade, rather than store bought. The fabric is some sort of medium weight muslin. There’s very little blood on the fabric, and what is there may have been the result of early scavenger activity. We’re running tests to see if we find any other particles or chemical traces. There were no other articles of clothing, shoes, jewelry, or artifacts found.”

  “You sure this is a murder, Anderson? It’s possible that the body was disposed of after expiring of natural cause.”

  “In my own opinion, that’s not possible, but I’ll defer to the coroner’s office, Chief Kelly.”

  “Well, Evans?”

  Mitchell had to wonder how the coroner would react to Kelly’s peremptory address. While Anderson and his team were an adjunct to the Department and funded within that budget, the Coroner’s Office was its own authority, albeit an authority which shared space in the same facility. Dr. Evans was, at the very least, a peer of Kelly’s, if not slightly higher in the city hierarchy.

  She regarded him with silent coolness from her end of the table, and Mitchell detected the slightest flicker of derision behind her eyes.

  Kelly realized his mistake a second later. He shot a quick glance around the room, then ran a beefy hand across his brush-cut hair. “That sounded harsher than I intended, Dr. Evans. What has your office determined?”

  “Typical, Chief Kelly,” Mitchell thought. “Just enough to appear like an apology, without actually being one.”

  Dr. Evans exchanged look with Anderson, but Mitchell couldn’t decipher its meaning. She accepted a file from Bridges and opened it to the notes inside. After a cursory review, she folded her hands in front of her and began.

  “My staff arrived at the scene shortly after we were notified of the situation and met with Anderson and the responding detectives. I was not present, as I had a scheduled meeting with the mayor, and Dr. Bridges, acting in her capacity of Assistant Coroner, represented my office.”

  With a single sentence, she managed to remind everyone present that she had access to the mayor, and that the coroner’s shop was hers. “As Tom stated,” she continued, establishing with the use of his first name that she had an excellent relationship and working partnership with the head of forensic team, “The body was in pretty bad shape. However, we have established some key facts.”

  She turned a page in her notes, and continued, “The victim is, as we are all aware, a pre-teen Caucasian female between the ages of eight and ten. Based on our examination, I would place her as being closer to ten than eight, although she shows some sign of malnourishment. Although upon initial study, her skeleton and organs are well-formed for her age, she was extremely thin. Given there was no evidence of a delay in growth or development, I believe the conditions which led to her low body weight and deterioration of muscle tone is fairly recent.

  “As already indicated, the remains were disturbed by
local wildlife. There is clear evidence that the body served as a food source for the population of animals, as well as a variety of insects. This aided in the overall decomposition, as did the exposure of the body to the elements. However, the unseasonably cool temperatures this spring slowed degradation. This makes it difficult to determine the exact date and time of death, but based on testing of tissue samples and larvae development, I would estimate that our victim was placed in the grave approximately seven to ten days ago. I do, of course, have photographs of the body, before and during various stages of the autopsy, if anyone would care to study them further.”

  Mitchell’s stomach lurched at the thought, and he was relieved when no one took her up on the offer.

  “No?” Evans responded. “Very well, then, I’ll move along. In addition to the damage caused by the factors I’ve already discussed, there are a few other items of note. I’ll allow Dr. Bridges to share those with you. I must warn you, we did bring photographs to illustrate what we found. I understand some of you would prefer not to view the victim in this somewhat deconstructed state and are normally content to rely on our findings. However, in this case, I think you’ll agree that a picture is worth a thousand words. Dr. Bridges?”

  Bridges withdrew four sets of collated photographs from her folder and passed them around the table. When each of them had their copies, she directed them to the one on top. “The first picture is of the victim’s left foot and ankle. The right foot suffered way too much damage to be of much use, but I bet it was in a similar state at the time of death. If you look closely, you should be able to see a series of circular marks on the sole of the foot and a clean puncture at the back of the ankle right behind the Achilles tendon.”

  Mitchell steeled himself to examine the photograph carefully. “What do you think the marks mean?”

  “Detective Mitchell, I’m sure of what the marks on the bottom of the foot are, and have a good idea of what the hole behind the tendon is. Those circles are the remains of partially healed burns, made by a metal tool of some sort. I haven’t been able to figure out what yet, but we’re working on it along with the forensic team. As for the puncture wound, I’m not totally sure, but I think it was where some kind of ring was attached.”

  “Like a piercing?”

  “A pretty big piercing, but yeah. From the wear patterns on the inside of the wound, I think something like a metal loop on a dog collar was inserted through the skin right behind the tendon. You know—like that ring you hang tags off of? It’s the closest thing I can think of, given the size of the hole.”

  “The killer hung something off of it?” The thought was both horrifying and puzzling.

  “Maybe, but probably not. There was pressure applied to the tendon itself. I think someone used the ring to tether her.”

  “Like a leash?” Thorton asked.

  “Yes. Exactly like a leash, if it was the kind made for restraining large dogs.” She gave them a minute to process the information before moving on. “This second picture is something else altogether different. I’ll let you take a look first, and then explain.”

  It took Mitchell a second to orient himself to what he was seeing. He finally realized it was a part of the girl’s wrist, although a good portion of the skin was missing from the outer edge. However, the inner wrist showed what looked to be abrasions. “She was tied up?” he asked.

  “Good guess,” Bridges acknowledged. “Although, I’d say those makes were made from hanging somewhere, rather than being tied. In this case, I found some fibers embedded in the skin. Anderson’s team identified them pretty quickly. They came from the woven nylon casing on a bungee cord. It was looped somehow around her wrist—most likely both of them—and supported most of her weight for a while.”

  “Some sick bastard hung her and tethered her?” Thorton asked.

  “Yes, but not at the same time,” Bridges answered somberly. “The marks on the wrist are older than the puncture wounds.”

  Before she could continue, there was a knock on the door and a young man who Mitchell vaguely recognized as a new morgue tech entered the room and handed Dr. Evan’s a folded slip of paper. She read it and then nodded to him. “Go ahead, Jonas.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Once he’d exited, Dr. Evans indicated Bridges should continue.

  She directed them to the third and final photograph, which, while not as graphic as the first two, was ultimately the most disturbing.

  “What you’re seeing in this third picture is a tattoo. It was done pretty recently—maybe four or five weeks ago. We’ve taken samples of the ink to see if it is anything unusual or just the standard stuff.” She gave them a minute and then asked, “Does the design look familiar to anyone?”

  It was obvious to anyone who’d ever shopped for anything in the last twenty or so years. Mitchell closed his eyes as he whispered, “It looks like barcode.”

  “Yes. But here’s the thing. Not only does it look like a barcode, it is a barcode. Laurie Nelson on Anderson’s team confirmed it’s readable, but since we don’t have the database it’s tied to, we were only able to get the pricing information included in the code. This barcode is for an item valued at four thousand dollars.”

  “Why in the hell would anyone want that kind of tattoo?” Kelly asked.

  “I don’t think she wanted it,” Dr. Bridges answered. “I think she was either sold, or about to be sold.” She met his eyes until he looked away, then handed things off to the coroner.

  “We know two other things of note,” Evans informed them. “This girl died as a result of a broken neck. The break was clean. The final thing we now know is her name. That was the information Jonas brought me a few minutes ago. Although there was not enough left of her hands to take fingerprints, her teeth were intact. Her dental records matched those of a Nicole Britton, who was reported missing by her parents a little over two months ago in Augusta, Georgia.”

  It didn’t take long for the implications to sink in.

  “Dammit!” The word was spoken softly, but Kelly’s suddenly flushed face gave evidence to his state of mind. “That means—”

  “We have a crime that crosses state lines, and it’s now a matter for the Federal authorities.” Evans’ cool voice cut right to the heart of things.

  “Not so fast!” Kelly swiftly countered. “Let’s think this through before we blow this out of proportion. I’m not sure it’s time to make that call.”

  “It’s very cut and dried, Chief Kelly,” the coroner informed him. “We have a murder victim—a minor reported missing from out of state. Furthermore, Nicole Britton was clearly held captive against her will, tortured, and marked for sale before her death. Not only do you have a murder victim on your hands, you very likely have a victim of child trafficking.”

  “Child trafficking? I call that leaping to conclusions pretty damn fast, Doctor.”

  “I don’t think there’s any doubt that we’re dealing with a case of trafficking!” Evans responded with the first heat Mitchell had heard from her that afternoon. “The proper authorities have already been informed.”

  “On whose authority?” he asked as he stood and leaned forward, resting his clenched hands on the table.

  “My own,” she informed him as she rose from her seat. Bridges and Anderson both followed suit. “In cases of this nature, I have an obligation to notify the reporting jurisdiction. The moment the dental match was made, my responsibility was clear. Jonas left to make the call a few minutes ago.”

  “That’s what she was doing when she told the tech to go ahead,” Mitchell realized.

  Kelly gave her one last narrow look, before storming from the room. The flung open door shuddered as it banged against the outside wall. Evans watched him until he was out of sight, and then calmly collected her papers.

  “You did it now, Patricia,” Tom told her quietly.

  She shrugged. “Someone had to. Better me than you. He can’t touch me, and he knows it.”

  “Don’t bet
on it.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she assured him, before walking toward the doorway. “Detectives, feel free to contact me or Thelma-Louise if you think of anything we can help with.” With that, she left, trailed by Dr. Bridges.

  Anderson picked up his own notebook and weighed it in his hands for a moment. “Same offer stands for me and my team. Better buckle in.”

  Mitchell gravely acknowledged his words for the clear warning it was. After Anderson left the small room, he turned to his partner. “What now?”

  Thorton tucked in the back of his shirt while he thought it over. “We’d better make sure all our file notes are in order. When the Feds get here, we want everything shipshape. I think things are about to get real interesting.” He picked up his stack of photos and tucked them inside the now-tattered home buyer’s guide. “Ready?”

  Mitchell picked up his own stack, rotating through each picture slowly and engraving them in his mind. “Ready.”

  ***

  Jessica was surprised her daddy was waiting for her when school let out. Not expecting to see his big, shiny car with the funny star on the hood, she moved down the sidewalk and started on her way home. The sound of three quick honks surprised her, and she turned in excited anticipation. She knew that sound! Racing to the curb, she flung open the door and climbed in, giving him a delighted hug.

  “Daddy! I’m so glad you’re home!” she exclaimed in between kisses. “I didn’t think you’d be home until nearly bedtime.”

  “I’m glad to be home, too, princess. Did you miss me?”

  “Yes, silly. I don’t like it when you go away,” she answered as she fastened her seat belt.

  “Me either, but you know that sometimes I have important things to do.”

  Jessica wasn’t sure exactly what her daddy did for his work, except that it had something to do with big trucks and something he called shipping containers. He’d taken her to the big place where they were kept once, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the funny metal boxes, other than to notice they kind of looked like parts of a train she’d seen once while they’d taken a drive in the car. While they were there, he told her that his job was very important to his boss, and that they couldn’t get by without him, so when he went away, she tried not to be too upset.