Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  The victim’s head was over three feet away from the torso, with most of the flesh removed from the skull and jaw. Only the large muscles of the lower mandible remained on the yellowish skull, along with a mass of matted blonde hair. Green fungus accented by bird droppings now covered the dark skin along her torso and legs.

  “I wonder why her skull is detached and nearly bleached white, while the rest of her is still intact,” Eric said.

  “Could have been cut off by her killer,” Kristen answered. “Or not. If the head was attached to the body when she was dumped, the critters start at the easiest opening to the body. That’s usually the mouth and eyes, then they work their way in. Once they got around the neck, the buzzards could have severed the head from the body and continued to pick on it.”

  Shut up, will you? Mac wanted to shout. He couldn’t, though. It was bad enough that his stomach was starting to roll on him again.

  Whatever had made him think he wanted to investigate crime scenes? As a trooper, he’d seen corpses, but nothing like this.

  “How far back do you put the death?” Kevin asked the M.E.

  “I’d say a week, maybe two. It’s hard to tell in this heat. Once we get her up to my place I can do an autopsy and run some tests, so I’ll be able to tell you more.”

  “All right.” Kevin straightened. “Follow me down to her; try to step in my tracks. I’ll video while you and Eric process her.”

  Kevin removed some paper masks from his jacket pocket, handing one to Eric and another to Mac. He held a fourth out to Kristen.

  “No thanks. I sweat too much in those things.”

  The older detective produced a small jar of cologne, giving one spray of the fine mist into the mask. “Want me to do yours?” he asked Mac.

  Mac nodded. He’d do anything, even use cheap cologne, to keep the smell down. He placed the smelly mask over his nose and mouth and secured the elastic string around his head. “Ugh. This is disgusting. Where did you get this stuff?”

  “Father’s Day, 1978.” Detective Bledsoe lifted the mask over his face. “Comes in handy from time to time.”

  The medical examiner pulled a rubber-coated body bag from her plastic tote box and stretched the bag alongside the victim. She then pulled down the large zipper to open the bag. Inside the pale blue bag was a clean white sheet used to cover the body and a smaller plastic bag for personal effects.

  Kevin videotaped the scene and Mac shot another role of 35mm film while Eric and the medical examiner looked over the body for any obvious signs of injury. Aside from the detached head, there were no detectable marks of injury due to the advanced stages of decomposition. Kristen placed a single paper bag over the exposed right hand, tying the bag around the wrist with cotton string.

  She glanced up at Mac as she pulled the woman’s left hand out from under the log. “This will protect any trace evidence for the forensic lab.”

  As the left hand was exposed, Dr. Thorpe let out a long whistle. “Someone or something beat us to this one.” The majority of the left hand was missing, with obvious signs of animal scavenging. All four fingers were missing, with only part of the thumb and palm remaining.

  “Go ahead and bag what’s left,” Kevin said. “Let’s roll her over and get a look at the rest of her.”

  “We need to be careful when we pull her out from this log— looks like the skin is sloughing,” the medical examiner warned.

  “Sloughing?” Mac asked.

  “Her skin is falling off the muscle and bone. Good thing we got to her when we did. There wouldn’t be much left to examine in a few days.”

  “There isn’t much now.” Mac found that the cologne was actually helping. Bad as it was, the scent was strong enough to overshadow that of the corpse. He helped Eric and the doctor roll the body from her temporary grave. Mac looked away in disgust. Cripes, he was going to vomit again.

  The left side of the victim’s body was writhing with maggots. He wasn’t the only one to be affected. Eric had covered his face with his sleeve. Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

  “It never gets any easier, does it?” Kristen grimaced. “Let’s get her into the bag.”

  They worked as a team, rolling the body into the bag while Eric put in the skull and hair as well. Dr. Thorpe placed the white sheet over the victim’s body and worked the heavy zipper closed on the bag. With the body out of sight, Mac could almost breathe again.

  They searched the immediate area for trace evidence, but the ferns and nearby garbage dump made the search futile.

  “We’ll have to keep the scene overnight,” Kevin said. “We’ll conduct a methodical grid search of the area tomorrow. Let’s work on her identification, Eric, and see what we can find before Frank leaves.”

  The four of them emerged from the body dumpsite, carrying the victim in her temporary rubber-coated bag.

  “Don’t look now,” Eric muttered. “Looks like the vultures are here. And I don’t mean birds.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mac glowered at the dozens of news vans and reporters waiting outside the crime scene tape, microphones in hand and cameras aimed at the approaching investigators. Dana was still at her post, and the media were apparently keeping her busy.

  A hush came over the reporters and rubberneckers when they saw the body bag. The bright lights of the cameras and the red lights on the microphones seemed to come on simultaneously.

  “Doesn’t take them long to find the story, does it?” Eric muttered.

  “Not long enough, partner.” Kevin sighed. “Not nearly long enough.”

  “SERGEANT EVANS, CAN YOU GIVE US A STATEMENT?” The television news reporter thrust a microphone into Frank’s face.

  “All I can tell you is that we have recovered the remains of an unidentified person and the death will be under investigation. I have no additional information at this time.” Frank ran a hand through his thinning gray hair.

  “Can you comment on the state of the body? Do you have the identity? Do you know the cause of death? Is it Megan Tyson?”

  The questions came at him like bullets, and Frank wished he could fire back with the real thing.

  One of the reporters pressed against the crime scene tape that Frank had ducked under when he saw his team come over the rise.

  “That’s far enough.” Trooper Bennett stepped in front of the reporter.

  “You folks are so helpful.” The reporter glared at her.

  “Glad to be of assistance.” The trooper glared back.

  Frank grinned at the exchange. He’d have to remember to put in a good word for Dana.

  Turning his back on the reporters, Frank headed out to meet the medical examiner and his crew. They didn’t have much to report. Not that Frank expected a lot. They told him about the find and the condition of the body. One week, maybe two.

  Probably because one of the reporters had mentioned it, Frank thought about a missing person case that had recently made headlines. Megan Tyson, a lovely young woman about to be married, had suddenly disappeared. When they came back to the vehicles, he helped the trooper keep the reporters at a safe distance while Kristen and his detectives took care of the body.

  MAC STOOD TO THE SIDE as Kristen pulled the shiny metal gurney from the back of her van, setting it down on the pavement next to the body bag. With a quick lift, Kevin and Eric settled the body onto the metal stretcher. Dr. Thorpe extended the legs with a quick shake downward, then she effortlessly lifted the weight of the body and platform and locked the device into place with her foot.

  One of the reporters who’d had little luck with Frank yelled at the medical examiner, “Can you give us a statement?” Kristen ignored them, muttering something under her breath that sounded anything but complimentary. She buckled the gurney’s two nylon straps around the body bag, pulling them snug with a jerk. With a quick push, she pushed the collapsible contraption into the back of the county-owned van and slammed the double doors shut.

  “I’ll transport the body up
to my office.” Kristen pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in a plastic bag behind the driver’s seat. Glancing at Eric, she added, “I suppose you want this autopsy done yesterday.”

  “Yeah, as soon as possible,” Eric replied.

  “I’ll have to juggle things around a bit, but we should have a preliminary report by noon.”

  The M.E. saluted as she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Before taking off she scratched a few notes on her clipboard and put on a headset. Mac could make out the strains of rock music as she adjusted the volume on her portable compact disc player and began to move her head and shoulders with the music’s beat. The medical examiner eased the van onto the roadway and headed west toward Portland.

  “There goes one weird chick,” Mac murmured. “I think she enjoys her job a little too much.”

  “She’s coping,” Kevin told him. “You’ll get used to her.”

  Frank Evans stood with his hands on his hips, looking back at the scene. The summer sun was just beginning to set and a light breeze began to blow. Kevin and Eric removed their latex gloves and pulled down their masks, letting them rest around their necks.

  Frank came back over to them. “I talked with Philly and Russ just before you got here. They wrapped up their interview with Mr. Collins.” Giving them a frustrated look, he added, “I’ve assigned them to locating all the recent missing person reports. There’s so much to do on this. There’s no way I can leave on vacation now.”

  “You are not missing that vacation, Sarge.” Eric shook his head. “You’re going to be on that plane tonight if I have to hogtie you and drag you there myself. I’ve got this one, buddy, so why don’t you clear out now? We’ll have the scene secured overnight and we can take up the search for trace evidence at first light.

  Kevin and Mac can attend the postmortem in the morning.”

  “I don’t know.” Frank brushed some dust off his jacket.

  Settling a hand on Frank’s shoulder, Eric said, “We’ve got this one covered. Now get out of our hair.”

  “Maybe. But if I do go, I’m calling in every day and I expect to be briefed on what’s going on every step of the way. Once I reach the motel, I’ll leave my room number on your voice mail. If you have any problems, call me and I’ll be on the next plane.”

  “There won’t be any problems.” Kevin chuckled. “Besides, it’ll be kind of nice not having the brass in the way for once.”

  “All right, all right. You knuckleheads win.” Frank folded himself into the driver’s seat of the hammer wagon. “Don’t forget to keep the lieutenant in the loop—give him enough information to keep him happy. And hold down the overtime; don’t use it unless you have to.”

  Eric and Kevin folded their arms. “Go,” they said in unison.

  “You two are such jerks.” Frank smiled as he turned the key.

  The old car grumbled in protest and on the third try roared to life in a cloud of gray exhaust. “Thanks, guys,” Frank yelled as he pulled away from the scene. His cell phone was pressed to his ear before his automatic transmission shifted gears.

  “Okay, Kev,” Eric said, “let’s get down to business. I’ll take care of scene security and tomorrow’s processing. You and Mac attend the autopsy while Russ and Philly work on gathering the missing person info.”

  Mac released a shallow breath. Eric had assigned him to watch an autopsy? His stomach rebelled at the thought of it. They were definitely including him in the process—and that was good, wasn’t it?

  “Man, and I thought Frank was bossy.” Kevin grinned.

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, partner. Um, do you need me to write all this down for you? I know your memory starts to go when you start aging.”

  “Punk. I should have washed you out years ago when I had the chance. It was bad enough working with you; now I have to work for you.” Kevin stepped over the crime scene tape.

  Watching their banter, Mac felt like an outsider, but that was to be expected. These guys had worked together for a long time and it showed. He hoped Kevin and Eric didn’t hold it against him for coming on the scene and causing their separation.

  Eric followed behind Mac and Kevin, stepping over the glossy yellow tape that momentarily caught on his camera case. “Trooper Bennett, log us out of the scene at . . . 2045 hours.”

  “Eight-forty-five it is,” she replied, writing the times on the crime scene log.

  “I’ll hang out here until the relief trooper arrives,” Eric said to Kevin. “You can take my car back to the office; I’ll get a ride back with Trooper Bennett. I want to be here at first light, so let me know what you find out at the autopsy.”

  “You got it. Want me to bring you a cup of joe?”

  “Nah, I’m okay. Thanks, though. Have a good night, Kev. You, too, Mac,” Eric said as an afterthought.

  “Hey, Eric,” Mac said. “You don’t look too thrilled about staying behind. If you want to get back to your family, I’ll be happy to stay.”

  “I’m sure you would.” His tone had a teasing quality, indicating his suspicion that Mac and Dana might have a thing going.

  “But I need to stay and make sure the place stays secure.” Eric pursed his lips and added, “Um . . . Mac, we haven’t seen much of you lately. We’ll have to get together sometime.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Mac wasn’t sure what to make of the invitation. The cousins hadn’t spoken socially since his grandmother McAllister’s funeral last year.

  “See you two later.” Kevin eased Eric’s car back onto the frontage road, stopping momentarily to push the seat backward and adjust the rearview mirror.

  Mac said his good-byes as well, to Eric, then to Dana, whose eyes offered an invitation to call her. Though Mac didn’t say anything that might encourage her, he felt certain his admiring gaze and smile had left an open door.

  Driving over the I-205 bridge into Vancouver, where he had an apartment in the Fisher’s Landing area, Mac felt a blend of trepidation and excitement. His first case, though gruesome, promised to be intriguing. Things were definitely looking up—a new job, a new partner who was one of the best in the business, an apartment in an upscale neighborhood. Life was good, he thought as he watched the beginnings of a glorious sunset. From his vantage point on the bridge he had a spectacular view. The Columbia River flowed beneath him, wide, deep, and swift. The sun had disappeared behind the Coastal Mountain range to the west. But to the east, the peak of Mount Hood still sported a luminous pink-and-lavender shawl—compliments of the setting sun. The almost twelve-thousand-foot, snow-covered peak provided a landmark to residents and travelers in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, not to mention a wide variety of winter and summer sports.

  Mac thought about going straight to Linda’s apartment just off Mill Plain. But he didn’t. She’d want to talk, and he wasn’t in the mood to delve into the subject she’d want to talk about—marriage.

  Not after what he’d just seen. He needed time to think and to process the find. A woman had been murdered and dumped in a place no one was likely to find her. Even though the woman meant nothing to Mac, it seemed sacrilegious somehow to do anything but grieve over her passing.

  AS DETECTIVE KEVIN BLEDSOE left the crime scene, he thought about the grisly murder. The clear day and Mount Hood’s glorious cloak almost dimmed the horror of finding the Jane Doe. The girl had a name—she was someone’s daughter or mother or sister. He prayed they’d be able to make a positive identification soon. Though he tried to take his thoughts in another direction, he couldn’t. Instead, he found himself praying for her family and wondering what had happened to her. How had she ended up as fodder for scavengers and maggots?

  In a way, Kevin wished he, too, was on his way to the Islands or to some exotic place with his wife. Jean would love it. Maybe he’d surprise her and set up a cruise for their next vacation. Kevin was glad to be going home, thankful that unlike Frank and Connie, he and Jean had mai
ntained a fairly healthy relationship during all these years. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been late for dinner or the nights he hadn’t come home at all.

  Jean always seemed to understand. Over the years, she’d learned not to count on him. She’d learned that if she was going to survive and keep the marriage together she had to be flexible. She had her church activities, quilting, knitting, and the kids—and now grandkids.

  He was one of the lucky ones. Kevin thought of all the failed marriages within the department. He thanked God for his stable home life, knowing full well the bond he shared with his wife could still not be taken for granted. I just wish I didn’t have to spend so much time away from home.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re in this job because you love it and can’t see yourself doing anything else. A passage from the Book of Isaiah came to mind. “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’ ”

  Kevin, being what many of his peers called religious, knew it wasn’t just his love for the job that kept him going. This was where he felt God wanted him—where he needed to be.

  The reminder set things in perspective. In a few minutes he’d be home. He’d eat the dinner Jean had saved for him, watch a little television, and then go to bed. He’d curl up beside his wife, and, hopefully, there he’d stay until morning—until the autopsy.

  He wondered briefly about the wisdom of having his new partner there then dismissed it. He’ll have to learn sometime, and this is as good a time as any.

  Chapter Eight

  Saturday, August 24

  7:50 A.M.

  You want whipped cream on that?” the attendant at the drivethrough window at Brewed Awakenings asked.

  “Sure, sounds great.” Mac reached out the car window to accept the hot raspberry mocha latte. “Thank you.” He popped the chocolate-covered coffee bean that she’d placed on the lid into his mouth.