Dead, Without a Stone to Tell It

by Jen J. Danna

  “The damage from the storm,” she breathed. “Essex County was hit hard.”

  “Yes, it was.” Reaching over to a nearby bench, he picked up a curved pair of forceps. “The path of the storm went like this.” Matt dragged the tip of the forceps from the open ocean, over the triangular form of Nantucket Island, over the center of Cape Cod, and then out into open water again. “The final landfall was in Manchester, right?” He glanced at Leigh, who nodded. “The eye then stayed parallel to the coast inland by about five miles before moving into New Hampshire. What category was it when it hit Manchester?”

  “It was still Category 2 strength,” Leigh answered. “Do you think the wind and rain uncovered the remains?”

  “I’m actually thinking more along the lines of the storm surge—the wall of seawater hurricane force winds push onto land. We know the storm hit here at Manchester.” He circled the small town on the south side of Cape Ann. “But because hurricane winds move in a counterclockwise direction in this hemisphere, the winds would have circled around the Cape to blow southwest … directly into Essex Bay and right up the Essex River.”

  “But if the southwest winds are driving the storm surge,” Kiko murmured, her eyes locked on the map, “that means the remains came from upstream of the dam. From here.” She pulled a pencil from her pocket and drew a circle on the map around the coast and a section of the salt marsh. “Northeast from where the bone was found.”

  Matt stepped back far enough to lean against a bench top. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Hurricane Claire blows through two weeks ago, generating a storm surge driven by hurricane force winds. The storm surge strips the soil from over the grave, or at least from part of it, uncovering a burial that’s remained hidden for several years. The surge then carries parts of those newly revealed remains inland. Travel backwards from the end point of the surge and you get a potential area for the burial site.” He glanced at Leigh to find her green eyes focused sharply on him. “You were searching in the wrong place, and certainly on the wrong side of the Essex River. The burial site could easily be a mile or more away from the beaver dam.”

  Leigh made another note in her notebook. “We need to confirm a storm surge happened in that area.”

  “If it did, the National Hurricane Center will know, but other areas along the coast experienced a storm surge, so I’d be surprised if this area was left untouched.” He tapped the map with the forceps. “This is a rough estimate. But it’s enough for us to get started.”

  With a quick flip, Leigh closed her notebook. “I agree.” She glanced at her watch. “We have a little over six hours of daylight left.”

  “We can be ready to roll in about twenty minutes.” Matt addressed his students. “You’ll each need a full field kit with a complete set of brushes and probes. Juka, Paul—make sure we have a couple of shovels and small spades and Tyvek suits for each of us. We’ll also need a couple of body bags and several tarps in case we find something this afternoon and need to secure the scene overnight.” He turned to Leigh. “Your guys will take care of sample collection at the site? We’re also going to need to thoroughly document the scene before we break ground and then throughout the process since the excavation will destroy the scene.”

  “If we are lucky enough to find the remains, I’ll get Crime Scene Services out to take samples and photos.”

  “We’ll take our own set of photos so we’ve got them on hand in case we need to refer to them during reconstruction. Kiko, pack your sketch pads and all the camera equipment. And make sure you’re all dressed appropriately. This is going to be messy. We’re going to be aiming for dry ground, but it sounds like we’re going to have to go through muddy ground to get there, so wear appropriate footwear.” He glanced at Leigh. “You’re coming with us?”

  “After what we just figured out? You’ve got to be kidding. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  His gaze skimmed over her tailored suit. He was looking forward to seeing her in something more flattering. He also wouldn’t object to something more form fitting. “You’ll need to change. You go out in that and you’ll ruin your suit.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” She turned to Kiko. “Do you know the seafood restaurant just east of the Essex main strip? Across from the marina on Route 133?”

  Kiko grinned. “Do I ever. Best fried clams on the North Shore.”

  “Let’s meet in the parking lot there at three P.M. That should give you enough time to get your equipment together and to drive up. I’ll stop in Salem to report to my sergeant and change clothes, then I’ll meet you there.”

  “That works.” Matt glanced down at the map one last time, his eyes fixed on the land contained within the circle Kiko had drawn over their new search area. “Let’s see if we can find those remains.”

  CHAPTER FOUR: BARRIER BEACH

  Barrier Beach: a protective sand barrier that runs roughly parallel to the coastline and shelters a coastal area from severe wind and waves; it allows for the formation of shielded environments such as a salt marsh.

  Monday, 2:53 P.M.

  Town of Essex, Massachusetts

  There was no mistaking when Leigh pulled into the parking lot; the midnight blue Crown Victoria practically screamed “cop car.” Matt rested his arm on the sill of the open driver’s window of his own vehicle, and lifted his hand in a wave as she got out.

  He much preferred her current outfit to her business attire—she wore an athletic T, hiking boots, and jeans, with her firearm in a cross-draw holster at her hip. She sported a high ponytail, revealing the gold and caramel highlights in her hair, and dark glasses hid her eyes in the late afternoon sun.

  She approached the open window. “You made good time. You still want to stay east of the Essex River?”

  “I think that’s the best plan for now. We’ve always got the option of making a secondary search area.”

  “Then let’s get started. Stay with me.” She returned to her car and when she pulled into traffic on Route 133, Matt was right behind her.

  They drove quickly through the small town and then they were into the salt marsh. On their left, the countryside opened into flat expanses of grass and sedge. Tall salt grasses rippled in the gusting breeze and brilliant sunlight glinted off serpentine swathes of open water. In the distance, hills covered with dark trees rose out of the flat plain of the landscape.

  As he drove, Matt kept one arm propped on the sill, enjoying the fresh air. The breeze was surprisingly warm for this time of year, and smelled of sea creatures, salt, and marsh life. He tuned out his students as they discussed the merits of a new indie band they’d just discovered, turning his attention instead to the woman he followed. Back at the church, she’d seemed nearly desperate for his help. What choices had she made in life to bring her to this intersection where her needs and his skills combined with their joint desire to bring home the dead?

  They drove through dense forest, turning north at Harlow Street, and then finally onto Conomo Point Road. They broke clear of the forest, crossing over a narrow neck of land and onto Conomo Point. Leigh eased off the road at the northernmost point of the peninsula and Matt pulled in behind her. He and the students poured out of the SUV to gather in the space between the two vehicles, silently taking in their surroundings.

  They were at the mouth of the Essex River, where the water finally spilled free beyond the confines of land and marsh and flowed into the ocean. A clutch of sailboats and motorboats were anchored offshore, well clear of the low-lying marsh plants and the dangerously rocky shoreline.

  Leigh unfolded her map and struggled to lay it out on the hood of Matt’s SUV. The wind pulled at the edges of the map, trying to snatch it away with playful fingers.

  “Let me help.” Reaching around her, Matt grabbed the bottom corner of the map with his left hand as his right hand came down over hers. She raised her head and he found himself looking into her green eyes over the top of her sunglasses as he held her between his body and the warm hood of his car.


  She gave him a quick smile, sliding her fingers out from under his as she slipped under his arm. “Thanks. It’s pretty windy out here.”

  “It is.” He looked over his shoulder. “Paul! Give us a hand here.” He jerked his head toward the map.

  Paul immediately jogged over to help hold the map. Juka and Kiko grouped around them.

  “Okay, we’re right here.” Matt pressed one forearm along the edge of the map to hold down the flapping corner and used his free index finger to circle the tip of the peninsula. “We’ll start here and move southwest toward the marsh.”

  “You were right, by the way,” Leigh interjected. “I made a few calls on my way up here and there was a storm surge in this area. I have someone getting the specifics for me and we should have that later this afternoon. But I think your theory is solid.”

  Kiko’s faraway gaze suddenly caught Matt’s eye. “Kiko?”

  “What about Cross Island?” Kiko pointed north of where they stood. “The remains could be buried out there. That would have been right in the path of the storm surge.”

  Matt studied the land mass that lay a few hundred feet across the channel. Weathered cedar shingle and clapboard houses hugged its rocky shore, nestled in the trees that crept down the hill toward the water’s edge. Further along the shore were the ruins of an earlier home. All that remained now was the charred fieldstone foundation and a lone chimney that rose into the air, an eerie reminder of the fragility of life.

  The island would have been directly in the path of the storm surge, and it was exposed enough to have borne the brunt of the storm’s force.

  “How do you get out there?” Matt asked. “Is there a bridge?”

  Kiko shook her head. “No, only boat access.”

  Matt looked over at Leigh. “If we don’t find anything today, I’d like to see about arranging to get out there. Kiko’s right; the remains could be there.”

  “I can arrange for a boat from the Essex Police,” Leigh offered.

  “Let’s keep it in mind.” Matt pointed to the area bordering the salt marsh that led directly to Essex and the discovery site. “This is the area I’m really interested in. But we need to work our way down there first and we’ve only got about four and a half hours of daylight left. Keep your eyes peeled for depressions from dirt settling as the body decomposed, disturbed ground, exposed bones, signs of digging, anything like that. Let’s cover it all the first time.” He proceeded to outline a search protocol for the group, assigning positions to each member. Then he turned to his students. “Let’s take all the equipment. If we find the remains, we won’t have time to come back to get it.”

  “What can I carry?” Leigh asked. “There’s no reason you and your students should carry everything.”

  Matt grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I have a pack for you too.” He briefly scanned down her body to her booted feet and then back up again. “You look like you can manage it.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to the students. “Let’s move. We’re wasting daylight.”

  Monday, 5:12 P.M.

  Essex Bay Coast, Massachusetts

  “Let’s take five.”

  Grimacing, Matt pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “We should keep going,” he argued. “We’re going to run out of light soon.”

  “Five minutes won’t make a difference. We’ve been at it for almost two hours straight and everyone is tired. Take a break,” Leigh insisted.

  He fought the urge to argue with her, part of him realizing she was right. “Fine. Hey, guys!” he shouted. “Come on back for a minute. We’re going to take a short break.”

  The sound of fallen branches snapping underfoot signaled the students making their way toward them. While Leigh settled on a wide patch of springy moss, Matt swung his backpack off his shoulders and leaned a hip against the large boulder that pierced the forest floor, a craggy mass of bedrock thrust free from the earth’s hold.

  “Check your pack,” Matt called, unzipping his own and pulling a bottle of water from inside to wave it in Leigh’s direction. “I put water in yours too.”

  Surprise flashed across her face. “I didn’t expect you to pack for me. Thanks.”

  Matt drank half of his water in a continuous series of swallows before lowering it and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He pulled in a deep breath of salt air, forcing himself to take a minute to relax.

  He was recapping his water bottle when Kiko pushed her way through the bushes. The younger woman shrugged off her backpack and dropped to the ground. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “You’re the athlete in the crowd,” Matt said, pointing his water bottle at her accusingly. “Shouldn’t you be the one with the most stamina?”

  Kiko laughed and opened her pack, retrieving her own bottle. “Kendo teaches concentration, coordination, and agility. It also teaches how to knock your opponent on his ass. What it does not teach is hiking endurance. Besides, you’re the rower with the cardiovascular stamina.” She sipped her water. “We’re getting nowhere. We’ve covered almost all the land we thought would be the most likely location for the burial and we’ve come up empty.”

  She paused as Juka and Paul came through the trees together, dropping their shovels and shedding their packs to sprawl on the ground beside her. Paul made a half-hearted attempt to snatch Kiko’s water bottle from her fingers but she easily slapped his hand away. “Get your own.”

  Matt gave the men a moment to quench their thirst. “Anything, guys?”

  “Nothing,” Juka said, discouragement in his voice.

  “And we’ve nearly covered the whole area that we set out to search,” Paul added.

  Matt fell silent, absently tapping his fist against his thigh, as he turned over his search strategy in his head again. This is taking too long and we’re nearly done with this area. You must have miscalculated. Setting his water bottle beside his pack, he started to pace the forest floor, mentally re-examining the bone for some other clue.

  Leigh’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I can look into getting us out to that island tomorrow,” she offered. “Maybe that’s where the remains are.”

  Matt’s head jerked up and it took him a moment to focus on her face. “Yeah, I think we’re going to have to. We’re running out of areas that make any sense down here.” He frowned and distractedly ran his hand through his hair. “The real question is how far did the storm surge carry that bone? I’m betting not that far. But if I’m wrong on that, then maybe I have us searching in the wrong spot.”

  “So we keep looking.”

  He stopped pacing and just stared at her.

  “Welcome to police work,” she said. “It’s not nearly as exciting as they make it seem on TV. It’s asking a lot of questions and going over the same ground again and again until something pops. It’s searching a forest until you find what you’re looking for, even if it means revising your search area or covering the same ground twice. Contrary to what you see on TV, we’re not going to be solving this mystery in exactly forty-two and a half minutes.”

  The corners of Matt’s lips twitched. “We wouldn’t be able to solve it in forty-two and a half minutes just from the science end of things. Do you know how unrealistic those shows are? Sexual identification from just a quick glance at a scattering of bones. Mass spec profiles in three minutes or less. PCR results in ten.”

  Leigh let out a cynical laugh. “Oh trust me, I know. It can take anywhere from six months to two years to get DNA results back from the state lab simply because they’re overworked and understaffed. The problem is those shows make us look bad because people now have unrealistic expectations.” She took another long pull from her water bottle before screwing on the cap to slide it back into her pack. Climbing to her feet, she bent forward at the waist to stretch out her back muscles before linking her arms behind her hips to stretch out her shoulders and chest. The fluid way her body moved drove all thoughts of human remains and search patterns from Matt’s mind. Then she straightened and h
is face heated as she caught him staring. “What’s wrong?”

  Reality slammed back into place, bringing with it their current dilemma. “I’m wondering if I’ve given you unrealistic expectations.”

  Leigh stare at him, befuddled. “Why would you think that?”

  “I thought I had it nailed and that we’d find something today. Looks like I was wrong.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, hunching his shoulders.

  “You think you’ve let me down?”

  “Well, you did come to me so that I could help you find these remains.”

  “Do you always take this much on yourself?”

  His head snapped up. “What?”

  “Is it perfection or nothing at all for you? Every detail has to line up or you’re not satisfied? Once you’re on board, it’s your responsibility to get the job done?”

  “I’m used to taking care of things on my own. If you want the job done right, do it yourself. That way, no one else can let you down.”

  “I don’t let people down,” she said shortly. “And it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine as the responding officer. I’m thrilled with how far we’ve come today. When I found you this morning, I never dreamed I’d be out in the field this fast. What you do in the lab may be an exact science, but police work isn’t. Loose ends don’t always get tied up and we don’t get all the answers we want. Sometimes the crime remains unsolved and nothing frustrates a cop more than a cold case. But with your help, I don’t think that’s going to happen here. The remains have to be here somewhere.” At her words, Matt relaxed fractionally and the tightness in his chest eased. “I’m happy you’ve come on board and that you’re taking this so seriously. But I don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations.” She quickly checked her watch. “There’s maybe two and a half hours of daylight left, probably less in the trees where the light level is lower. What do you want to do?”