Deadfall

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “Sarge, this is Bledsoe. Yeah, I can hear you.” Kevin cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and muttered to Mac, “I can hear him screaming without the phone. I hate that hands-free phone system he has in his car.”

  Kevin resumed the conversation with his boss. “Say, Sarge, any problem with Mac and me adjusting our itinerary and hitting the post on this floater today? We’ve got him loaded up with the M.E. and want to put an ID on the guy.”

  He hesitated then said, “Yeah, pretty sure that’s our guy. Great, I’ll send you a page when we’re done. Should be off by six or seven.” Kevin flipped his phone shut.

  “Sarge said no problem. He wants us to ID the guy if we can and get to the next of kin for the death notification. I think these bargemen were out of Washington State, so we can get WSP to do the notification.”

  Mac nodded, though he’d overheard most of the conversation.

  “Got time for a cup on the way?” Kevin asked as they reached the paved road again. “Doc Thorpe will take awhile getting prepped for the autopsy.”

  “Sure. I could use some coffee after dealing with that body.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’d suggest we grab something to eat too, but maybe we’d better save that for later.”

  Mac groaned. “Much later. I don’t know how you can even think about eating.”

  13

  MAC EASED THE CROWN VICTORIA into a parking slot on the east side of the old brick building where the Oregon State Police medical examiners perform their somber work.

  Kevin tossed his sport coat in the backseat, checking his 35 mm camera for film. “You mind grabbing . . .” Kevin stopped midsentence when he saw Mac was already holding the evidence-collection kit. The partners walked quickly in the drizzle to the north side of the building, where the front of Kristen’s truck was peeking around the corner, backed into the loading dock.

  Kevin and Mac walked in through the back door, propped open by one of the staff members. Kevin set his camera on the wood shelf that supported an ancient-looking sign-in book for the facility. He logged them into the building, noting the time on his watch before signing the form.

  Mac peered into the autopsy room, seeing that the body they had just recovered at the river was still on the gurney next to one of the two steel tables. On the other, a male physician was just finishing up an autopsy on an infant. Mac turned the other way, averting his eyes. He hated it when they autopsied children.

  Mac tried to put the scene from his mind—tried not to think about the children he’d seen during his child-abuse detail. He stopped in front of a giant poster of the circulatory system, trying to look interested until his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the tiny package being wheeled to the cooler.

  “Afternoon, Kevin.” The doctor paused on his way out.

  “Oh, hey, Drew. How have you been?”

  “Same stuff, different day.” He motioned toward the cooler. “Got a bad one.” His Adam’s apple shifted up and down.

  “SIDS or stillborn?”

  “Worse. Young mother never told her parents she was pregnant. Had the baby in the bathroom at her school and ended up leaving the infant in the toilet to die. The baby still had the umbilical cord attached when we found her.”

  Kevin closed his eyes. “Children having children. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. The worst thing is that the girl’s parents are heartbroken. They would have taken the baby. Senseless.”

  Kevin gripped the younger man’s shoulder. “How’s the girl doing?”

  “She’s okay. Up at Emmanuel giving detectives an earful. D.A. is probably going for murder.”

  “That’s an ugly one. Not your typical murderer, but there’s no doubt she intended to let the child die.” Kevin put the camera strap over his head. “You assisting with the post on our drowning victim?”

  “No, I’ve done three today already. Kristen is going to do the honors.” The doctor closed the cooler door after wheeling the infant inside to wait for a trip to the funeral home.

  “What was her name?” Mac asked, his throat feeling thick.

  “The mother?”

  “No, the baby. Did she have a name? What are you going to put on the death certificate?”

  “Jane Doe.” The doctor paused. “But I named her Alice. Every child should have a name.”

  Mac swallowed hard, wishing he could shut down the compassion rising in his gut.

  Kevin sighed. “At least the baby is safe and at home now.”

  “Home?” Mac frowned in momentary confusion. “Oh, you mean in heaven.”

  Kevin nodded.

  “How do you know? That she’s in heaven, I mean?”

  “God is a father to the fatherless,” Kevin said. The line sounded familiar—from Scripture, no doubt.

  Having gone to parochial school, Mac had fair knowledge of the Bible. “What about the argument that we’re all born in sin and we need to ask forgiveness and be born again to get into heaven?”

  Kevin folded his arms. “Do you remember reading the story in the Bible where Jesus gathers the children around him and says, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these’?”

  Mac nodded. He hadn’t meant to turn the situation into a theological debate. Maybe he needed clarification himself.

  “Grace, Mac.” Kevin stepped into the autopsy room. “All of our questions can be summed up in one word: grace. God’s grace is sufficient.”

  Mac hoped that was the case. Truth was, he didn’t know God well enough to make that kind of judgment.

  Kristen came out of her office and walked down the narrow hallway toward them, wearing her customary rubber apron with white lace sewn around the chest piece. “You guys ready?” Not waiting for an answer, she went into the autopsy room, where her assistant, Henry, had already prepared the large stainless-steel table.

  “Hey, Henry. I didn’t see you come in,” Mac said.

  “That’s the way I like it.” Henry’s wide grin split his wrinkled coffee-colored skin. “That way Doc Thorpe can’t pile more work on me.”

  “I can always find you, Henry. All I have to do is open a package of cookies from the vending machine, and you come running.”

  “My one vice and the woman’s found it.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Henry had worked at the medical examiner’s office for years; he was probably the oldest and longest-tenured employee they had. He stepped back from the table, examining the tools he had set out. Henry had proven to be an invaluable assistant to the doctors. He always seemed to know what they wanted before they asked for it.

  Kristen slipped on her gloves and pulled her foot-activated tape recorder to the center of the room. “I’m going to start dictating now, so no burping or anything. I don’t want anyone to think it’s me.”

  “I’ll try not to, but no promises for Mac,” Kevin joked.

  Kristen looked at Mac. “Okay, let’s get started.” She stepped on the foot pedal. “This is Dr. Kristen Thorpe,Oregon State Medical Examiner, beginning an external examination on John Doe. Subject is approximately sixty-nine to seventy-four inches in height, with a postmortem weight of about two hundred and fifty pounds. Subject is a white male adult, nude upon examination.” Kristen released the foot pedal and walked up to the head, lifting the eyelids. She then stepped on the pedal and continued, “Eyes are blue, hair blond with nothing remarkable. Head, neck, and chest evidence signs of ligature contact, although nothing that would indicate a cause or manner of death.” Kristen touched and prodded the body as she gave her external exam. “Sternum, nothing remarkable. Abdomen, nothing remarkable. Hips, more ligature evidence from water exposure, nothing remarkable. Genitalia, nothing remarkable.” She smiled and looked up at her audience. “Isn’t that every man’s nightmare? To get the old ‘nothing remarkable’ label?”

  Mac could feel his cheeks redden. He struggled to keep his mouth shut and his features nonexpressive.

  “Don’t answer her; that�
��s her favorite joke,” Henry said. “Don’t give her the satisfaction of letting her see you squirm.”

  “Oh, pooh on you, Henry.” Kristen stuck out her tongue and quickly resumed her exam. When she’d completed the legs and feet, she glanced over at Henry.

  “You ready for x-ray?” Henry asked.

  “You got it. I don’t want to have to roll this dude over more than once, so let’s get pictures before we get him off the gurney.”

  Henry grabbed hold of the steel gurney and wheeled it down the hall and into a room identical in size to the one holding the autopsy tables. The room was used to store the large x-ray machine, in addition to serving as an overflow room if more bodies arrived than they could handle at the office. The cooler was adjacent to the x-ray room, holding an assortment of unclaimed body parts and corpses that were awaiting transportation to a funeral home.

  Henry moved the bloated body into place under the large x-ray machine, pulling the glide arm down over the torso. He pulled on a protective vest and stepped back several feet before activating the hand-held control, taking the x-ray. Henry quickly slid the glide arm down to the midsection and eventually to the legs as he completed the task.

  “Should be just a few minutes,” Henry told the detectives as he pushed the gurney back into the autopsy room. Once inside, he rolled the corpse onto the large steel table and rinsed sand and other foreign objects off the body. The runoff was trapped in the table’s custom-made drain trap, in the event detectives wanted to review the contents.

  Mac and Kevin slipped on rubber gloves, getting small envelopes and evidence tape ready to collect hair and skin samples, or whatever else Kristen found to be of interest. Kevin snapped a couple more pictures of the body, probably more out of restlessness than necessity. Mac let his gaze linger on his partner. He’d only known Kevin for a few months, but he had the feeling something had been bothering him lately. Several times he’d wanted to ask Kevin about his unusual behavior but hadn’t felt like it was the right time or place. He figured whatever it was, Kevin would tell him eventually.

  After several minutes, Kristen returned with the x-rays, affixed the three plaques on the lighted board, and snapped on the light.

  “Houston, we have a problem,” Kristen said while Mac was still trying to figure out what part of the body they were looking at.

  “What?” Mac asked. “Where?”

  Kristen pointed it out. “See this white mark under the scapula? That’s a piece of metal.” She grabbed a small ruler from the counter and held it up to the x-ray. “This is actual size, so we are looking at about half an inch. Let’s get inside and see what it is.”

  Henry handed Kristen a long metal rod that looked like a two-foot-long knitting needle.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking, Henry?”

  “Yep.” Henry nodded.

  A bullet, Mac guessed. Not wanting to interrupt the team with his observation, he watched intently. Kristen turned back to the body then looked at the x-ray again. She lifted the victim’s left arm and fingered around the armpit. “Bingo.” Without explanation, Kristen placed the rounded point of the metal rod beneath her finger and gently slid the rod into the body. “Looks like you got about a ten-inch trajectory path, boys. My guess is it will go through both lungs and kiss the heart on the way.”

  Mac had been right. That pleased him. “So someone shot him. Guess that rules out our bargeman theory.” He looked at the x-ray again and then turned his attention back to Kristen.

  Kristen nodded. “Hard to tell for sure until we open him up, but that would be my guess. Henry?”

  With a scalpel, Henry made the large Y incision in the body.

  Then he cut a pathway though the ribs and sternum, allowing Kristen access. Henry removed the section of chest and set it at the foot of the metal table. Kristen dictated her findings into the audio recorder before going any further. Mac watched Kristen’s animated features rather than her hands. Fascination accentuated her eyes, making them a brighter blue and giving her look of a kid with a new chemistry set.

  “I need to remove the organs before I can get to the tip of the rod,” she explained. “The trajectory extends from the left side of the torso to the right shoulder blade.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Kevin told her.

  Kristen removed the heart and lungs, placing them in the scale that hung over the top of the John Doe’s feet. After weighing the organs, she dissected them into quarter-inch slices. “Aha. I was right, boys. Our victim was double-lunged by the metal object, and it took out the tip of his aorta. Unless this was some weird postmortem wound, this will be my cause of death. Poor guy wouldn’t have lived sixty seconds with a wound like this.” She went on to examine the large and small intestines, finding nothing of evidentiary value.

  Mac motioned to where the metal rod was still sticking out of the torso. “We checked over the body down at the beach. How could we have missed the entry wound?”

  “With the bloating and skin slip, it was easy to miss.” Kristen nodded toward the x-ray. “That, my friend, is why we do the films.” She examined the x-ray again. “Hmm, the rib is broken inside the cavity, and the wound is right behind the external opening. It would take considerable force to shatter a rib like this.”

  “Like a bullet.” Kevin came forward, and Mac thought he looked pale. His colorless face hadn’t come from being around the autopsy—Mac knew that much. Kevin was a seasoned cop.

  “Yep.” Kristen raised an eyebrow, looking at Kevin as though she’d noted the pallor as well. “I’m still thinking gunshot wound. If he is one of our barge guys, there’s more to the story than meets the eye.”

  Henry moved into position at the head of the table with the electric bone saw, preparing to remove the scalp so Kristen could examine the brain. He had previously made a circular incision around the head, level with the top of the eyebrows.

  “Let’s hold off on the head, Henry. I want to get that metallic object out of him before we get carried away.”

  Henry put down the saw and placed all the dissected organs into a clear plastic bag, eventually to be placed back inside the body for burial or cremation. With forceps, Kristen went searching for the metal object she found on the x-ray. “Here we go; I’ve got it.” Kristen grunted as she twisted her arm around the body cavity of the victim. She pulled a small red glob of blood and metal from the body, held up to the light, then set it on the shiny table.

  “Let me get a shot of that before you wash it down.” Kevin inched forward and snapped a photo. He then set a small plastic evidence ruler on the table for perspective and took two more photos. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Here you go.” Henry handed Kristen a pair of tweezers and a small plastic cup, half-filled with water.

  “Thanks.” Kristen picked up the piece of metal and tissue with the tweezers and placed it in the cup, swirling the water gently at first then more vigorously. She then poured the contents of the cup into her gloved left hand, holding it out for Mac and Kevin to examine. Mac eyed the mushroomed bullet. “Huh. Looks like a .38 or .357 to me.”

  Kristen placed the bullet on the table while Kevin took several more photos. Using the tweezers, she picked it up again and held it up to the light. “Looks like murder to me.” Excitement of the find lit up her eyes as her gaze flitted from Mac to Kevin, then back to Mac. Mac caught a challenge in her eyes but wasn’t sure what it meant.

  Kevin dropped his camera, letting the leather strap catch it. “At best, a very suspicious death. We better get to work finding out who this character is. If it is a murder, we’re way behind the eight-ball on catching the killer—by at least a couple of weeks.”

  14

  MAC, GO AHEAD and let Sarge know we are going to be a couple more hours, at the earliest. Tell him we’re gonna try to get some fingerprints off this guy. See if he can grease the skids for us and get someone from the latent print unit to standby for us.”

  “You got it,” Mac said, already halfway out the door.r />
  “Grab the print kit, would you?” Kevin yelled after Mac.

  “You bet.” Glad to get out of the room for a few minutes, Mac jogged through the icy rain to their car, climbed in, then grabbed the cell phone off the dash and hit the speed dial to Frank. He summed up their findings to the sergeant and repeated Kevin’s message. Frank agreed to make a call to the crime lab and let them know the detectives would be bringing in some inked prints and a bullet for examination. The ice was already building up on the windshield, so Mac started the car and put on the defrost. He’d have to leave the car running or they’d never be able to leave the parking lot.

  Mac popped the trunk and reluctantly stepped outside. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and lifted his shoulders, hoping for a modicum of protection against the sleet. Rummaging through the damp clothing, he pulled out a small metal case from beside the spare tire. He locked the car and jogged back into the autopsy room, slipping on the icy step and almost taking a header.

  As he entered the autopsy room, he found Kevin and Kristen bent over and examining the victim’s left hand.

  “I’ve got the ink kit.” Mac set it down and joined them. “And Sarge is going to make those calls to the lab so they’ll wait for us downtown. Might take us awhile to get there, though. We got us a full-blown ice storm out there.”

  “Neither hail, nor rain, nor snow, nor ice will keep our OSP guys from their appointed rounds,” Kristen said.

  “That’s the post office, not OSP.” Mac brushed away the cold droplets on his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “There’s a clean towel on the counter over there, Mac. You might want to dry your hair,” Kristen offered.

  Mac took her advice, mopping up the ice that had accumulated on his head and shoulders. When he finished, Kevin was holding the victim’s index finger. “Let’s try to roll one, Mac.”

  “While you two are working on that,” Kristen said, “I’ll check the fax and see if those Coast Guard documents have arrived with the description of the two bargemen.” Kristen dropped her rubber gloves on the empty exam table and walked out of the room.