by Mary Burton
“It’s from a rape in the East End. I collected it last week but haven’t had the chance yet to test it.”
She remembered the case. Seventeen-year-old girl walking home from work was dragged into an alley, beaten and raped. So far, her attacker remained on the loose.
“The media has gotten hold of the Percy Warner Park case. They are calling every half hour trying to find out if the old and new cases are linked.”
She didn’t listen to the news much. Half the time it upset her, and the other half made her angry when reporters spouted misleading junk science. “Don’t bother to take the calls. None of them wants to hear it can take months to assemble all the physical evidence. They all think we can process the scenes in an hour and have DNA in twenty minutes just like the TV show.”
He laughed. “The word from the top is no one talks to the media. Deke has summoned Jake and Rick, and they’re headed this way now for a meeting.”
“That should be fun.”
“I hear the retests you did on Amber Ryder’s old clothes have been bumped to the top of the priority list.”
“Good.” The discovery of the bodies, along with a push from Deke, accomplished that miracle. She fished her phone out of her purse and glanced at the display. Six missed calls. Scrolling through, she identified four as local media. “Looks like the reporters have me on their radar.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Shining a light on cold cases?”
“Be careful what you wish for, right?”
“You know you love it.”
“Maybe a little,” she said with a hint of satisfaction. She set her cup and purse down on her desk and moved toward a box of latex gloves.
“Our pal Detective Bishop called at five in the morning to tell me the medical examiner’s office would be delivering Elisa Spence’s clothes before noon and they needed them to be processed ASAP. The articles arrived about five minutes ago.”
“I understand Jake and Rick talked to the parents, and they made the formal ID at the medical examiner’s office.”
When she imagined Rick and Jake making the death notice, she pictured Rick doing the talking. He possessed that soft Boy Scout vibe that put people at ease, whereas Jake was more like a charming jackhammer.
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” she asked as Brad arched his back and tried to stretch out the stiffness.
“A few hours. I’m surprised Bishop didn’t call you.”
She set her coffee cup down, moving toward the table where he worked. “He did. My phone’s been off until a few seconds ago.”
Georgia donned plastic gloves before unpacking the paper bags of Elisa Spence’s clothes sent over by the medical examiner’s office. Paper bags allowed air to flow in and out whereas plastic bags created an airtight seal that allowed for the buildup of heat and mold. Both could destroy any kind of biological evidence within hours.
She laid out the garments on a light table. There was a white bloodstained shirt, a khaki skirt, a shoe, and lacy undergarments.
“Leave no stone unturned,” he said copying Jake’s Boston accent.
She laughed. “You sound like him.”
“Seriously, that guy can be pushy as hell.”
“He can’t help it,” she said, grinning. “I think he was born with a stick up his ass.”
Brad laughed, glancing toward the door as if he were afraid Jake would appear. “I never said that.”
“That’s because you’re afraid of him.”
He straightened his shoulders. “Not afraid, exactly. Just damn leery. Never know when he’ll throw the switch.”
“Take his best shot.” When it came to Jake, she was always snapping back and pushing away.
Pushing him from her thoughts, she focused on the white striped button-down shirt, taking extra care to tug any wrinkles on the arms or front panel. She clicked on a light suspended from a retractable arm and shone it on the material. She would go over the shirt, combing the fibers and threads for any loose materials that could be tested for DNA.
Killers always thought they were clever, but like she had said before, they all left something behind for her to find. It might be barely noticeable, but it was there.
She moved up and down the shirt, plucking several dark hairs with tweezers and then bagging and tagging them. She collected blood samples from the torn right sleeve and from the collar of the shirt. Once she reviewed every inch of the shirt a second time, she turned off the white light and grabbed a black light. Clicking it on, she scanned the shirt, searching for stains, including blood, semen, or urine. As she raised the bottom hem of the shirt, she spotted a faint stain glowing under the black light.
“Hey, now,” she muttered. “Where did you come from?” She carefully clipped away part of the fabric and dropped it in a test tube. “Thought you were so clever, didn’t you.”
“Did you say something?” Brad asked.
“Found a stain.”
He raised his head. “Good.”
Georgia scraped dirt from the bottom of Elisa’s shoe, plucked hair fibers from her skirt and documented two more stains.
She studied the shoe Elisa had worn into the woods. It was simple but expensive. Checking the label on her skirt and shirt, Georgia noted the moderately priced labels.
“The bodies in the back chamber look like a murder /suicide,” Brad said.
“I’d have bought it, if not for the newest victim. No way a second killer would have found that cave. No way.”
Likely little forensic data remained on the bones, but it only took a little to connect killer to victim.
* * *
Jake and Rick arrived at the medical examiner’s office in late afternoon. Jake showed his badge to the receptionist behind the thick glass panel and, leaning into the microphone, said, “Dr. Heller is expecting us.”
“I’ll buzz her,” the tall, thin woman said.
Rick reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and removed a folded piece of white paper. “Jenna swung by the coffee shop and talked to Cleo and spent a couple of hours with her drawing a composite. She thinks the likeness she drew is a fair representation given Cleo’s memory isn’t as sharp as she hoped.”
Jake studied the precise sketch of a bearded man. “He looks like a country-western star. But they all look alike to me.”
“That’s what I said. Cleo does have a thing for the country singers, according to Jenna. She talked about them a lot over the few hours Jenna spent with Cleo.”
Jake tapped the edge of the paper with his finger. “I appreciate her doing the work. Every bit helps.”
“Killers are creatures of habit,” Rick said. “Maybe his habit is Blue Note Java.”
“Very possible.” His phone buzzed and he checked the display. Dalton Marlowe’s name flashed. He sent the call to voice mail. He’d call him back as soon as he had more concrete answers.
The side door buzzed open and Dr. Miriam Heller appeared. She wore loose fitting green scrubs that moved easily with her as her long legs ate up the distance. Originally from the Northeast, she settled in Nashville four years ago and had established herself as a top-notch pathologist. Armed with a dry humor, Dr. Heller not only interacted well with the cops but also was known for her compassion when dealing with the families of the dead.
Jake smoothed his hand over his tie. “Dr. H. So we meet again.”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, gentlemen.” She nodded to Rick and smiled. “How are Jenna and Tracker?”
“Doing great. Thanks.”
“Maybe sometime we can all meet for a beer,” she said. “We can figure out if we can have a conversation that doesn’t involve death.”
Jake shrugged. “So what do you want to talk about while we’re having this beer, Dr. H.? You don’t strike me as a football or country music fan.”
“You might be surprised.” She turned and punched numbers into the keypad that unlocked the side door. They followed, allowing the door to close behind them.
Jake lowe
red his voice a notch. “Thanks for coming in last night and meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Spence.”
“I’ve seen their kind of pain so many times in this office, but it never gets easier. Seeing their daughter was a shock but they handled it the best they could.”
She moved down the hallway and then pushed open the doors to the large exam room. “Go ahead and gown up and I’ll meet you in the autopsy room.”
As Dr. Heller vanished through swinging doors, Jake and Rick reached for gowns.
“Have you spoken to the Spences this morning?” Rick asked.
“I talked to Mr. Spence a half hour ago,” Jake said. “They’re anxious to reclaim their daughter’s body and have her cremated.”
“I don’t blame them. Got to be hell for them.”
“Yeah.”
Within minutes, both had stripped off their suit jackets and slipped on green gowns and donned latex gloves. When they entered exam room one, Dr. Heller stood at the head of the exam table that held the sheet-clad body of Elisa Spence.
Dr. Heller slid on glasses and tied her dark hair back in a tight ponytail. She pulled on latex gloves and then adjusted the powerful light that was suspended above the exam table. As she stood over the body, her face showed a grim determination.
Her assistant, Debbie, a brunette with freckles and a round unsmiling face, stood next to her. Debbie’s body was rounder, softer, and made Dr. Heller, who’d traded smoking for obsessive running, all the more stark. Debbie uncovered the tray containing the instruments.
Dr. Heller moved to the body’s feet and uncovered them. Decomposition had discolored the soles and shrunk the skin around the toes’ cuticles, giving the impression that the nails had grown. The doctor turned the ankle so that the heel was in plain view. “She has fresh blisters and abrasions. I took a look at her remaining shoe before I sent it to the lab and noted it was older, well worn. I wouldn’t think the shoes would have worn blisters unless she’d been on her feet a long time. There are also scratches on her upper arm that suggest she ran into something abrasive like a tree.”
Jake rested his hands on his belt. “Like someone was chasing her through heavy brush?”
“That would be my guess. Her shoes created the blisters and the branches scratched her face.” Dr. Heller arched a brow. “One could assume she lost her other shoe while she running.”
“Scent dogs are combing the brush, but so far have not found it,” Rick said.
She moved to the head of the table and uncovered the girl’s face, also darkened and drawn from death. Her lips were pale, bloodless, and more scratches raked across the left side of her face. A purple ligature mark ringed the skin around her neck like a Victorian choker. “The scratches on her cheekbones are also consistent with running through the woods.” She lifted the head and turned it to the right, exposing the flesh under the left ear. “What does that look like to you?”
Jake leaned in to study the blue-purple marks. “Looks like bruises.”
“She’s got matching sets on the other side. The shape is consistent with fingers. Because they’re in slightly different positions, it appears whoever strangled her put hands on her neck several times.”
“Strangled her but didn’t kill her,” Jake said.
“That’s right. I’ve seen bodies marked like this before. They often indicate a choking game.”
Rick pointed to the narrow ribbon of bruises around her neck. “That’s a ligature mark if I’m not mistaken?”
“It is. She died from asphyxiation. The other marks might have been enough to make her pass out but not sufficient to cause death.”
Jake flexed his fingers. “So this started as a game?”
Absently, Dr. Heller laid a hand on the victim’s shoulder. “Smart girls can make stupid choices sometimes. And she might have gone into the woods thinking it was going to be fun when the killer had a different plan all along.”
“Shit,” Jake muttered, thinking about the cave and the candle that had burned through. The killer had not simply dragged her to the cave and killed her, he kept her there for hours and toyed with her. “Any older bruises that might suggest she tried this kind of thing before?”
“No, also no signs of drug abuse. This could have been her first foray into this kind of sexual play.”
“According to her roommate she was smart,” Rick said. “But she did like to party.”
Dr. Heller raised the victim’s right hand and fanned the pale fingers painted in purple chipped at the fingertips. “Debbie found dirt under her nails as if she’d been digging. Maybe she got away and tried to hide. Also embedded in the dirt under her nails, I found skin, so I did scrapings. We’ve processed and sent it off for DNA testing. Looks like she was able to scratch him perhaps a couple of times.”
“Hopefully, she marked him up good,” Rick said.
“Be interesting to know if our killer is in a DNA database.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” DNA in a database wasn’t a given. If this guy had never been arrested, it was very possible law enforcement possessed no record of him.
Jake studied the facial features discolored with decomposition. She’d not been a beautiful woman, but remembering the pictures in her room she had a spark in her eyes and a dimple in her cheek. She was someone’s child. “I hope she gouged the hell out of this guy.”
Dr. Heller carefully closed the fingers and laid the hand gently down. She didn’t hide the satisfaction when she said, “I’d say she put up a good fight.”
“She was found in a remote part of Percy Warner Park,” Jake said. “Did he grab her and take her there?”
“I don’t think so. I think she went willingly. I found lubricant in the front pocket of her skirt.”
“Lubricant?” Jake tapped his finger. “So she follows him to the park thinking it’ll be fun and games and then he, what? Strangles her. She panics. Scratches him. Takes off running until he finally catches her and, really pissed at this point, drags her back to the cave to torture her.”
“At some point she was penetrated,” Dr. Heller said. “Judging by the vaginal bruising, my guess, it was not consensual. However, no traces of semen.”
“The killer likely used a condom,” Rick said.
“Or,” Dr. Heller said, “he used something else to penetrate her other than himself.”
Jake muttered a curse.
“If he knew about the cave, he was familiar with the park,” Rick said. “Fact, I’d say he knows it intimately.”
“Makes sense,” Jake said.
“How was she found?” Dr. Heller asked.
“Guy walking his dog. The dog was running free and found the cave. But judging by the smell, it was a matter of time before someone found her.” He rubbed his forehead. “Anything else you can tell us about her?”
Rick shifted as he did when his hip bothered him. “Dr. H., anything you can tell us about the bones of the other two victims?”
“I’ve an assistant arranging the bones so they can be photographed. As Georgia suggested, one body is female and the other male. Judging by the length of the femur bone, I’d say the female stood about five foot five and the male at six feet.”
“That would be consistent with the descriptions of Bethany Reed and Mike Marlowe.”
“I’ve not had a chance to really study the bones in great detail, but I have taken dental x-rays of the teeth. I’ve requested X-rays from Bethany Reed’s dentist so I can compare.”
“Any thoughts on cause of death?” Jake asked.
The method of murder often left indicators on the bones. A knick from a knife. A dent in the skull from blunt force trauma. A hole from a bullet. A break in a pelvis that had once been very vascular. A snap of the small horseshoe-shaped bone at the base of the neck called the hyoid. However, sometimes the manner of death wasn’t recorded on the bones, in which case, the medical examiner would begin more extensive testing.
She folded her arms, shaking her head. “The female’s skull appears to have a hairli
ne fracture in the back. I don’t think that injury was enough to kill her, but certainly enough to stun her. I’ll get a better idea when I dig into the examination. The male however has a hole to his right temple. He appears to have been shot in the head.”
“He shot himself?”
“That, I don’t know yet. I need to analyze the entrance and exit holes more carefully.”
Impatience nipped at Jake. “Great. Call me as soon as you’ve got anything here.”
“Of course.” Dr. Heller adjusted her protective goggles and pulled back the sheet, exposing Elisa Spence’s body. Jake shifted, doing his best to remain objective and view the body before him as evidence and not as a person.
Rick cleared his throat and grimaced slightly.
Dr. Heller selected a scalpel from the instrument tray and made a Y-incision in the chest. After she peeled back the flesh, she reached for bone cutters to open the sternum. The two detectives stood and watched as she began the process of autopsying Elisa Spence.
By the time they left the exam room, they had confirmed that Elisa Spence was healthy and fit, had maintained a good weight, strong bones with no breaks, and no signs of drug use with a needle. Despite clean living, she’d died hard, in a manner no one deserved.
The detectives stripped off their gowns and made their way down the elevator and out the front door. The air was warm, the afternoon sun brilliant in the western sky. These kinds of details rarely got past Jake, especially if he were fresh from an autopsy. “Life is so fucking fragile, so fleeting,” he said. “And yet everyone thinks they’re owed tomorrow.”
Rick shook his head. “What makes a girl who’s smart and has such a bright future go into the woods with a near stranger? So damn stupid.”
Jake shook his head as he reached for dark sunglasses in his breast pocket. “Sex always trumps smart.”
Rick drew in a deep breath and shifted his weight as if working tension out of his body. “How could anyone be so starved for attention?”
Teenagers mostly don’t think beyond the moment. Didn’t stop. Didn’t consider. Jake wished the hell they did, but they didn’t. He reached for his cell and checked his messages. None from Georgia, but that wasn’t a surprise. “You didn’t do anything stupid when you were that age?”