Lori looked skeptical. “Right. I can’t wait to get out of here and find my lake.”
She led them down a tiled floor corridor where other people in baggy hospital scrubs hovered over the dead. They stopped at one stainless steel table where Pam Dutton lay, her body permanently marked by the slashed throat as well as the standard Y-incision Magoulas had carved into her.
“What did you find?”
“She was in good health. Would’ve probably led a long life but for that,” she said, pointing at the woman’s mangled neck.
“What about the blood levels?”
Magoulas pecked on a laptop situated on a desk next to the steel table, and studied some figures that appeared on the screen. “As best as I can figure, taking into account what was left on the rug and on her clothes, she’s missing about a pint.”
“Presumably they took it with them?”
“The wound dissected the carotid sheath, slicing open the left common carotid artery and the left jugular. She would’ve bled out in a few minutes.”
“What’s your best guess of how it went down?” asked Michelle.
“Judging from the angle of the stab wound and the trace under the nails, I’d say she was grabbed from behind and her throat was cut. She might have reached back and gouged her attacker in the face. We found a good deal of tissue and blood under her cuticles. She must have ripped the guy pretty good. Probably didn’t improve his mood.”
“Certain it was a guy?” Sean said, drawing a scowl from Michelle.
“We also found beard stubble with the blood and tissue.”
“Just confirming,” Sean said to his partner.
“So if the left jug and carotid were cut, that means the assailant was probably right-handed if he struck from behind,” said Michelle.
“That’s right.” She picked up a small plastic bottle. Inside were several strands of a black material.
“Found some of these under her right thumbnail and left index finger and another caught in her hair.”
Michelle squinted at the evidence. “Looks like nylon.”
“From a mask?” Sean opined.
“The guy I saw wore a black mask,” said Michelle. “Pam reaches back, gouges at his face with her hands. She gets the nylon under her nails.”
“Did you see anything else?” asked Magoulas.
“Not really. I’m pretty observant, but the guy was shooting at me with an MP5. Came within an inch of shredding me instead of a tree. I decided it was smarter to stay alive than to get a positive ID on the shooter.”
Magoulas looked at her wide-eyed. “Works for me.”
“Anything on the letters on her arms?” Sean asked, as he indicated them on the body. They were harder to read now because of the discoloration of Pam’s decaying skin. The dead flesh seemed to be absorbing the permanent ink. Rather than letters, they now appeared to be some sort of skin disease, or else the symbols of some insane human cataloguing process.
“I’m a pathologist, not a linguistic expert. It’s black ink, probably from a broad-tipped pen like a Sharpie, written in block letters, and the penmanship, in my humble opinion, isn’t great. I’m fluent in Spanish, but that’s not Spanish. It’s not any other Romance language. It’s obviously not Chinese or Russian. Wrong alphabet.”
“Maybe an African tribal language?” suggested Sean.
Michelle said, “But like Russian and Chinese I don’t think they’d be using an English alphabet. Maybe it’s just gibberish to throw us off.”
“Okay, anything else of interest?” Sean asked.
“Yeah, that’s some serious red hair the lady had. I’ve cut up lots of redheads, but she takes the cake. I almost needed sunglasses to do the post.”
“And how is that relevant to the investigation?” asked Michelle.
“He didn’t ask for relevant , he asked for interest.” She added with a grin, “Hey, even MEs need to lighten up every once in a while. Otherwise, it could get depressing around here.”
“Okay,” said Sean. “I’ll play along. Anything else of relevance?”
“Lady’s had kids.”
“We know that.”
“Two C-sections.” She indicated the old suture tracks on Pam’s belly paralleling the Y-cut. They looked like faded zippers.
“And the third vaginally,” added Sean.
“Impossible,” said Magoulas.
“What?” Sean said sharply.
“The visual exam showed her pelvic bones were unusually configured and her birth canal was abnormally narrow: The X-ray film confirmed those conclusions. And while it’s hard to tell at the autopsy level, she appears to have had an SI joint dysfunction; she was probably born with it. Bottom line, no ob-gyn would’ve gone the vaginal route with the lady unless they wanted to lose their malpractice insurance; way too risky. She’d have to deliver by C.”
She glanced at Sean and Michelle, whose gazes were locked on Pam Dutton’s savaged belly, as though the answers they craved would float from there and into them.
“Is that relevant?” asked Magoulas, looking at them inquisitively.
Sean finally pulled his gaze away from the old surgical scars and the more recent incision. “You could say it’s of interest.”
CHAPTER 18
AN HOUR LATER they pulled into the parking lot of a two-story building at an office park in Loudon County.
“How’d you know where he worked?” asked Michelle.
“I’m a friend of the family.” He paused. “And I snitched a business card from Tuck’s bedroom.”
“So one of the kids was not Pam’s? Only which one?”
“Pam’s a redhead and Tuck has blond hair. Willa has really dark hair. The other two kids are towheads.”
“So even though it’s a recessive gene maybe the red hair was relevant.”
“And of interest.”
Inside, Sean and Michelle strolled up to the receptionist’s desk.
“I’m Sean King. This is my partner, Michelle Maxwell. We’re representing Tuck Dutton in this awful business with his family.”
The receptionist, a young woman with short brown hair and wide sad eyes, said, “Oh, God, I know, we’ve all heard. It’s horrible. How is he doing?”
“Not that well, actually. He asked us to come by his office and pick up some things.”
“I hope he’s not concerned about work at a time like this.”
Sean leaned in closer. “I think it’s the only thing keeping him going, actually. We just came from the hospital.”
“You say you’re representing him?” the woman said slowly. “Are you lawyers?”
Sean flashed his credentials. “Private investigators. We’re working to find out who did this and also to get Willa back.”
“Oh, God, I wish you luck. Willa came in here a few times. What a super little girl.”
“Absolutely,” said Michelle. “And in kidnapping cases time is of the essence. That’s why Tuck wanted us to look at anything he was working on that might tie into the case.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I see. Well, a lot of things Mr. Dutton’s working on are sort of, well, confidential. You know, proprietary stuff.”
Sean smiled. “I understand that completely. He told us as much. Maybe there’s someone here who can help us?”
The woman smiled, obviously grateful to pass the situation on to someone else. “Absolutely. Let me call Mr. Hilal.”
She picked up the phone and a few minutes later a tall, thin, balding man in his forties came into the lobby. “I’m David Hilal. Can I help you?”
Sean explained why they were there.
“I see.” Hilal rubbed his chin. “Come on back and let’s discuss this.”
They followed him to his office. He closed the door and sat across from them.
“How is Tuck?”
Sean answered. “Physically, he’ll recover. The emotional part is a different story.”
“It was horrible. I couldn’t believe it when I heard.”
&n
bsp; “I know your firm is involved in some sensitive biodefense work. Tuck said you were in the middle of trying to get a big government contract in that field?”
“That’s right. We’re a subcontractor on the bid. But if we win it, it’ll be huge for us. Several years’ worth of business. Tuck was devoting a lot of time to it. As we all were.”
“And that’s why he was down in Jacksonville on the day it happened?”
“That’s… right,” Hilal said hesitantly.
Michelle added, “Well, was it or wasn’t it?”
Hilal looked uncomfortable. “This is really Tuck’s company. I’m only his partner.”
“We’re working with Tuck,” said Sean. “We just want the truth to come out. And we want to find out who killed Pam Dutton. And we want to find Willa. I assume Tuck wants that too.”
“This is awkward,” said Hilal. “I mean, it’s not really my place.”
Michelle leaned forward and tapped her finger on the man’s desk. “We’re talking about a little girl’s life.”
Hilal slumped back in his chair. “Okay, I think Tuck was down in Jacksonville with someone.”
“Someone? He said he was down there at the office the company maintains to work on the project. Is that not right?”
“No, we do have an office there. It’s staffed with only one person, though. A woman.”
Sean and Michelle exchanged glances. “This woman have a name?” he asked.
“Cassandra. Cassandra Mallory. She was working on the proposal. We hired her about six months ago. She has incredible contacts at DHS. Lots of people wanted her.”
“Because she could help get them business?”
“Government agencies are like anything else. Winning contracts is built on relationships and trust. The Feds like comfort and familiarity. Cassandra being part of our proposal would help us immeasurably.”
“And Tuck was down there with her. Are you saying in something other than a professional way?”
“She’s a very attractive woman. Very bright. Blonde, nice tan, favors short skirts,” Hilal added in an embarrassed tone. “She and Tuck really hit it off. Her expertise wasn’t on the technical side, it was in sales. And the lady could sell. Pretty much anything.”
Sean leaned forward. “Was Tuck having an affair with this woman?”
“If you’re asking if I have any proof, I don’t. It’s just little things. Like him going down there so often. Things I’ve heard.”
“So nothing concrete?” asked Michelle.
“There were some credit card charges that came through about a month ago. I’m sort of the unofficial CFO here. I review the bills, sign the checks.”
“What were the charges?”
“It was just something weird about Tuck’s expenses down there.”
“Some flowers, candy, or lingerie for sexy Cassandra?” Michelle asked.
“No, you misunderstand me. It wasn’t what he charged, it’s what he didn’t charge.”
“I’m not following,” said Sean.
“He didn’t have a charge for a hotel room on his corporate card.”
Sean and Michelle exchanged another glance.
“Maybe he used another credit card,” suggested Michelle.
“He always uses the corporate card. In government contracting you have to be very meticulous with expenses and charges. We only use that card for work. Plus Tuck gets all his points on that card. He uses it for plane tickets, upgrades, we all do.” Hilal hurried on. “And he always stays at the same place down there. It’s a nice hotel, but not too expensive. And he gets all the point perks with that chain. But this time he was gone for three nights and had no hotel charges on his credit card.”
“And Cassandra has a house down there?”
“A condo right on the water. I hear it’s very nice,” he added hastily.
“And there wasn’t anyone else Tuck would’ve stayed with?”
“He didn’t know anybody else down there. The only reason we opened that office was because Cassandra lived there and didn’t want to make the move up here and didn’t want to work out of her home. I think there were covenants in her condo building docs that precluded that. Plus, Jacksonville is a big defense area and we might want to go after other work down there. So it made sense to have a footprint.”
Sean sat back in his chair. “What did you really think when you’d heard about what happened to his family?” he asked. “Truthfully.”
Hilal let out a long sigh. “It’s no secret that he and Pam weren’t the closest couple in the world. He had this business and she kept the home fires burning with the kids. But murdering his wife and kidnapping his own daughter? Tuck’s no saint, but I can’t see him doing something like that.”
“Do you think Pam suspected something was going on?”
“I honestly don’t know. I didn’t have that much interaction with her.”
“If he wanted out of the marriage there’re easier ways to do it,” Michelle pointed out.
“Right. Why didn’t he just divorce her?” asked Sean.
Hilal tapped his fingertips against the desk. “That might’ve been problematic.”
“Problematic how?”
“I said that we hired Cassandra about six months ago. Before that she’d been working for the Department of Homeland Security in their contracts department. That’s the same agency we’re trying to win the contract from. That’s what I meant when I said she had great contacts.”
“So if Tuck tried to divorce Pam then maybe the affair would become public?”
“In the world of government contracting the Feds don’t like even the appearance of a conflict of interest. If the prime contractor we’re subbing found out about an affair with a former employee of DHS, it would be a big problem. Maybe not enough to kill the relationship under normal circumstances, but this isn’t a normal circumstance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sean.
“Tuck is the president’s brother-in-law. Everyone is already edgy about an appearance of preferential treatment because of that. And the government might even think there was hanky-panky going on between the two before she left the agency and maybe they’d start checking past contracts awarded to us. It gets complicated real quickly. It’s tough enough as it is to win these types of bid competitions. The other side will exploit any gaffe.”
“You realize that you’ve just built up a very plausible scenario for Tuck to have orchestrated this whole thing,” Sean said.
“I still can’t believe he would’ve done something like that to his family.”
Sean gave Michelle a subtle look that she still immediately translated.
She said, “We’ve got some more questions, Mr. Hilal. But do you have any coffee around here? You could probably use a cup too.”
Hilal rose. “I sure could.” He looked at Sean. “Would you like one?”
“No, but if you can just point me to the men’s room.”
Hilal led them down the hall and directed Sean to the restroom while he and Michelle headed to the lunchroom.
Instead of hitting the john, Sean doubled back and slipped inside the office two doors down from Hilal’s and which they had passed on the way in. This was Tuck Dutton’s turf, helpfully indicated by his name being stenciled on the door.
The space was large but cluttered and clearly showed a person juggling many things at once. Sean didn’t waste time but went right to the computer on the desk. He pulled a small USB thumb drive from his pocket. Loaded on it was a unique program used by law enforcement to extract forensic evidence from computers without turning off the machine and seizing it. Sean had managed to snag one from a buddy of his at the FBI.
He inserted it into the slot on the keyboard, performed some mouse clicks, and the program from the thumb drive uploaded onto the screen. There was password protection on Tuck’s database, of course. The software on the USB had password override programs that would take some time, so Sean decided to opt for a shortcut. He went through several
attempts before it hit him.
He typed in the name “Cassandra.” Nothing. Then he tried “Cassandra1.”
The digital gates parted and with a few commands from Sean the software started dumping select parts of Tuck Dutton’s hard drive onto the thumb drive.
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