by Neal Griffin
“What?” Livy said. “You got a date?”
“Sure do. With my pillow. I’m beat.”
“Yeah? Well, so am I, but it can’t be helped. The cut goes this morning and I need you there.”
Tia saw the hard look on Livy’s face and heard what she thought might be a hint of anger in the woman’s voice—misplaced, in Tia’s opinion. She took a deep breath. “Look, Livy. I know you’re pissed but—”
Livy gave Tia a “not now” sort of headshake and turned back to the body snatchers.
“Thanks, Gina. Like I said, wait for me, all right? I need to be there when we break him out.”
“You got it, Liv.”
Gina and her partner, stationed at opposite ends of the gurney, began a synchronized routine that always reminded Tia of a military drill. Gina nodded her head three times and the two female body snatchers simultaneously kicked low metal plates at the base of the gurney. The steel of the hinged legs whined like a screen door, tucking up under the thin mattress. Just when it looked as though the bed would completely collapse and the bag would roll off into the mud, the morgue attendants smoothly lifted the now-legless contraption into the air, holding it at waist height. Gina gave one final nod and the two stepped off in near perfect unison, heading for their nondescript white van parked on the road. The only thing missing was the roll of a snare drum.
As soon as the pair were out of earshot, Livy started in. “The blood pattern is all wrong, Tia. One look should’ve told you that.”
“Come on, Livy. It’s a shotgun. It’s not an exact science. I’ve seen plenty of cases where there’s no blood on the hands.”
Livy took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. Her response sounded more than a bit condescending. “There’s blood spatter on the barrel all the way to the trigger assembly, but nothing on the arms or hands. That is not indicative of a self-inflicted wound.”
“‘Not indicative’ is not absolute,” Tia said. “And I sure don’t see how it gets us all the way to homicide.” She had to tilt her head way back to engage Livy in a stare-off and she couldn’t help but think that the two of them, standing toe-to-toe on the muddy road, probably looked a bit cartoonish, given the foot-and-a-half difference in their heights.
Listening to Livy, Tia wondered if she hadn’t been too quick to assume the mortal head wound had been fired from directly under the chin. It hadn’t seemed like an unreasonable conclusion. Of course, the destructive nature of a close-contact shotgun blast didn’t provide the telltale burn mark of a pistol. That much, Tia and Livy agreed on. What was present was a high-velocity blood spatter pattern visible on both the victim’s shirt and the barrel of the shotgun. Just where it should be when the explosive force of a shotgun blast collided with human flesh. The problem was that there was no blood on the victim’s hands or arms. None. Tia knew she should’ve picked up on that, but she still wasn’t convinced it was a deal breaker for suicide.
“You don’t think that gets us to homicide?” Livy wasn’t backing down. “We have forensic findings that indicate the victim was not holding the gun when it discharged, but you don’t see a concern?”
Tia spouted Livy’s own words right back at her. “Indicates. Not proves. Everything else about this case says suicide.”
“Everything else,” Livy said, “is anecdotal. Conjecture. The blood spatter is real.”
“Yeah, but—”
Livy wasn’t having it and she raised a hand to cut Tia off. “Yeah, but nothing. I’ve checked the chamber. The round was a Winchester Super-X magnum double-ought buck. Those rounds have a velocity of somewhere around twelve-to-fifteen hundred feet per second. If it was a fifteen-pellet load? That shot could have been taken from as far back as three, maybe even four feet and still had the same level of destruction.”
Tia couldn’t help but be impressed with the knowledge the woman carried around in her head, but she still wanted to defend her own assessment. “Or, it could’ve been zero contact. But unless you want to line up a couple of gelatin test dummies…”
Livy leaned in a little closer to make her final point. “Test dummies? How about a thirty pound block of cement? One of those rounds would turn it to dust and it wouldn’t have to be zero contact.”
“What are you suggesting, Livy?” Tia stood her ground. “A homicide staged to look like a suicide?”
“Thatta girl, Tia. Now you get it.” Livy turned flippant before going right back to righteously pissed off. “That’s exactly what I am suggesting.”
“Jesus, Livy. You don’t have to be a—”
Livy cut her off for the second time in a minute. “Why did you call me out here?”
“What do you mean?” Things were getting a bit heated and indignation crept into Tia’s voice. “I was following standard protocol. You know that.”
“You don’t need me. You’re authorized. If you were so sure it was a suicide, you could have called it. Had the body bagged up and sent to the mortuary. Right about now, some undertaker would be draining the body over breakfast while he reads the sports section. If all you want to do is save this broke-ass county another dollar or two, you should have gone with the KISS rule and left me out of it.”
True enough. Tia could have ruled the death a suicide. Then it would’ve been a funeral home that scooped up the remains and there would have been no autopsy or follow-up investigation. Tia couldn’t help but think at this point she might be okay with that. There was something to be said for the age-old KISS philosophy of policing: “Keep it simple, stupid.” If she’d followed that rule, Tia thought, she’d be home in her nice warm bed, not standing in the woods, soaking wet and arguing with her friend.
“All right, Livy, I’m sorry. The body was fresh, and there were some issues about the initial response. I just thought it best you roll out so there wouldn’t be any problem with the family.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Excuse me?”
The taller woman’s voice softened as she continued, “If you were so sure this was a suicide, you wouldn’t have called me. Your gut is telling you something else.” Livy shrugged. “I think you should listen.”
Right. That’s all I need. Listen to the little voices. That worked so well the last time.
“And maybe,” Livy said, sounding motherly, “in the future, could you just secure the damn scene? Set up an inner perimeter? They teach that at the academy, right? And, I don’t know … maybe give some thought to the weather?”
Tia was ready to respond but Livy surveyed the scene and just didn’t let up. “Patrol cops tramped all over the place. All the boot prints have been degraded by the rain, so no way I’ll be able to eliminate all of them.”
She turned back to Tia. “You got pictures, right? I mean before the storm?”
“Yeah.” Since Livy wanted to beat her up like she was some kind of malingering flatfoot, Tia figured she might as well play the part. “With my cell. Probably not worth much.”
“Well, if all we have is cell phone pictures before the scene was compromised by the elements, then we’ll just have to make do.”
“Nice.” Tia smirked. “Before it was compromised? Don’t be shy, Livy. You can just say, ‘before you totally screwed up the crime scene, Suarez.’ No need to hold back.”
“You’re right.” Tia heard a trace of the woman’s usual good humor in her voice. “I need to work on my cop-speak. How’s this? I need all the worthless pictures you took with your piece-of-shit cell phone before you compromised and totally screwed up the crime scene. Is that better?”
“Much.” Tia took out her phone and pulled up the first picture to text it to Livy.
“Uh-uh.” Livy put her hand on top of the phone to stop her. “Download the photos onto your computer and e-mail them to me. The pictures are evidence now. I don’t want them on my phone.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Chain of custody, maybe?” Livy said, looking at the cell phone still in Tia’s hand. “I don’t want my cell gett
ing seized as evidence.”
“Ah, shit.” Tia understood the implication. “All right. As soon as I get to my computer, I’ll download them and send them over. Definitely before nine.”
“Hey, guys.” Sergeant Travis “TJ” Jackson walked over. “Looks like we’re about finished.”
When Livy had identified the inconsistency in the blood spatter, the area had been upgraded to a felony crime scene. Travis had responded to supervise the processing of the scene. Tia knew she’d be doing most of the grunt work, but it was always good to have Travis around.
Tia and Travis had been in the same graduating class of Newberg High School. Tia had known Travis’s wife, Molly, since both of them were fifth graders. During the summer of their freshman year in high school, she and Molly had been hanging out at the Dairy Queen in Newberg when Travis rode up on his BMX bike, with his blond hair and tan skin. Tia still teased Molly about the fact Travis had swept her off her feet while a Dilly Bar dripped chocolate on her chin. Tia would have been Molly’s maid of honor if she hadn’t been a little busy on a foreign deployment.
“Yeah, Sarge,” Tia answered. “I think we’re ready to wrap it up.”
“I notified Dispatch and they’ve made a copy of the original call from the RP,” Travis said. “Since this Henry guy didn’t stick around, we need to find him. Maybe we’ll catch a break and he’ll be our shooter.”
“If we have a shooter,” Tia said, giving Livy a sideways glance and making sure to speak loudly enough for her to hear. She was surprised when Livy didn’t even look up from her notes.
“Well, until we definitively rule out homicide,” Travis said calmly, “that’s how we’ll treat it.”
“Fair enough.” Exhausted, at this point Tia just let it go.
“So what’s your theory, Livy?” Travis asked. “Got any ideas?”
Livy finally looked up from her notetaking and spoke directly to Travis. Tia felt dismissed and she was pretty sure it was intentional.
“A shotgun blast from a distance of zero to three feet, upward trajectory that impacted in lower portion of the face. Other than that?” Livy shrugged. “I suppose the victim might have been handcuffed or restrained somehow? Then again it could have just been a struggle over the gun and it went off at just the right time. Lots of possibilities.”
“What about the shotgun?” Travis looked to Tia. “Did the rain get to it?”
“Nah,” Tia answered. “I think we’re good. As soon as it started coming down, I got it into the trunk of my car, wrapped it in butcher paper. Any prints, fibers, or DNA should still be there.”
“But the body?”
Tia could feel Livy’s stare. Tia sighed, shaking her head. “Couldn’t very well throw him in the trunk.”
“It’s an issue,” Livy said. “I ran back to my truck and grabbed a tarp. I had him covered within a minute or two, but by then it was a downpour. He was pretty much soaked.”
Travis looked at Tia. “You got photos before the rain, right?”
“Just cell phone. A few close-ups. A couple of overalls.” Tia shrugged. “It’s not like I was documenting evidence.”
Travis looked back at Tia. At a little over six feet tall, crew-cut-blond and lean, he couldn’t help the fact he was always a little intimidating. “Well, did you notice any blood? On the hands, I mean?”
“Can’t say I did, Sarge.” Tia sounded apologetic. “But like I said, I was just taking a few flicks that I could use when it came time to write my paper.”
“All right.” Travis looked thoughtful, taking it all in. “Well, first thing we need to do is figure out who this kid is. Hopefully he’s local.”
It seemed odd to think that it would be a bonus if the dead kid was a hometown boy, but Tia understood the implication.
“Yeah, that’d be nice. I could do without any interagency bullshit.” Tia turned to Livy, realizing her comment might have been misunderstood. “’Course I’m not talking about you.”
Livy answered without looking up from her notes and Tia heard the offense in her voice. “Oh, of course you weren’t.”
Travis seemed to finally pick up on the tension. “You two okay?”
“Fine,” Tia said.
Livy followed immediately with, “Great … I need to make some calls. A few notifications.” She leaned closer to Tia. “You know. Protocol.”
Travis watched Livy walk away, then said, “What’s that about?”
Tia shook it off. “Nothing. We’ll work it out.”
“All right.” Travis moved on. “Well, for now, get the physical description out to all statewide agencies. He looked pretty young so you might as well check the county runaway log. That tattoo oughta help.”
“Can you take care of that, Sarge?” Tia nodded her head toward Livy. “I need to be at the ME’s office by ten and I still have to download the photos from my phone. Depending on the mood of that boat anchor shaped like a computer, it could take a while.”
“Yeah, okay, don’t worry about it,” Travis said. “I’ll find someone to do it.”
“What?” Tia pushed her shoulder against his chest. “Can’t be bothered with the grunt work, boss man?”
Travis shook his head. “Got an appointment. Can’t break it.”
“Must be pretty important.”
Travis looked thoughtful and Tia could see uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed like he was ready to say more but was distracted by the sound of a revving engine.
A Newberg squad car barreled around the bend, nearly colliding with the ME’s van, idling in the roadway. The driver locked the brakes and stopped within a few feet of the yellow tape. The door opened and Jimmy Youngblood stepped out, wearing sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. Even from a distance, Tia could see the scowl on the man’s face. Youngblood scanned the area until he saw his trainee.
“What the hell are you still doing out here, Puller?” Youngblood marched more than walked toward the terrified trainee, yelling the whole time. “I’ve been waiting around the station for five hours.”
Rich began a stammering response but Tia jumped in: “Hey, Jimmy. Calm down. I can explain.”
Youngblood turned to her. “This is none of your business, Suarez. Stay out of it.”
Travis retorted, “It’s sure as hell my business. Get over here, Jimmy.”
Looking surprised to see the detective sergeant, Youngblood pointed a finger toward Puller. “Wait there. Don’t move.”
Tia stared at Youngblood as he walked the few feet toward them. She saw Livy, still talking on her phone near the road, looking over with some interest.
“What are you doing out here, TJ?” Youngblood asked, glaring at Tia.
“This case you pegged as a suicide?” Travis said. “We can’t rule out homicide, so we went with a full callout.”
“Bullshit.” Indignant, Youngblood turned to Tia. “Who came up with that? You? Maybe one too many Shirley Temples last night?”
“Good one, Jimmy. Keep it up. You’re killing it.”
Livy joined the group. “Excuse me, Officer Youngblood. Couldn’t help but overhear. I’ve done a thorough forensic assessment. There are some pretty strong indicators the fatal wound was not self-inflicted.”
Youngblood looked at the woman with complete disinterest. He turned back to Travis as if he were the only other person who should be talking.
“TJ, I looked the scene over. Believe me. This was a straight-up suicide. No doubt. They dragged you out here and got you all spun up for nothing.”
Livy stepped close enough to look directly down on Youngblood. She was smiling but her words were clipped. “That will be for the pathologist to determine. The medical examiner’s office has taken custody of the body. The autopsy is being scheduled for later this morning.”
“An autopsy? Are you joking?” Youngblood threw his head back in frustration. He went on, sounding as if he were dealing with third graders. “I should’ve just stayed out here and taken care of this myself.”
Travis look
ed at Youngblood. “Well, that’s over and done with. Like I said, we’re going to treat this as a homicide until proven otherwise. I’ll need a report from you covering initial response. I want it on my desk this morning.”
“My trainee will handle it.”
“Yeah,” Travis said. “He’ll handle his report and you’ll handle yours. Like I said, we’re approaching this as a probable homicide. That means everybody writes their own paper.”
“Be sure to cover the time of call, arrival on scene, all that stuff.” Tia winked, knowing Youngblood would have a hard time explaining his near-half-hour response time.
Ignoring her, the FTO said, “Fine. I’ll e-mail you tonight from Vegas.”
“No, forget that,” Travis said. “You’ll be a .20 before you even get off the plane. Write it this morning and put it on my desk.”
“I can’t believe this.” Youngblood turned to Tia. “Please tell me it wasn’t some little voice in your head that told you this was a homicide.”
That was more than she was ready to put up with. Tia took a step toward the man, who was three times her size, but Travis blocked her path. Tia could hear the anger in his voice. “Shut it down, Youngblood. We’re done here.”
“Nice, TJ. Taking care of the Chief’s girl, right? I hear that’s like your number-one priority. Any fringe benefits to that assignment?”
Travis stepped closer. “You know, Jimmy, for a guy who’s in such a hurry, you stand around and run your mouth a lot.”
The two men squared off and stared each other down. Tia silently placed her bet on Travis and he didn’t disappoint. “Write your damn paper. Then you can get on the plane.”
The sound of another engine drew everyone’s attention to a full-size van with a periscope antenna on the roof. The driver’s door was marked with the logo of a Milwaukee TV station.
“I guess they were bound to show up,” Travis said. “I’ll deal with them. The rest of you, break it down and get out of here.”
Travis headed for the media van, still staring at Jimmy as he walked away. “I want your report on my desk this morning. Do not disappoint me.”
Once the sergeant was out of earshot, Youngblood said, “Seriously, Suarez. What is it with you? That boy blew his damn face off and any cop with half a brain can see it.”