by Jen J. Danna
“We’ve covered almost all the way down to Harlow Street and back on this side of Conomo Point Road. We can always go east of Conomo Point Road. There’s quite a bit more forest over there but I still think that area is much less likely.” His eyes scanned the thick forest around them. “You know, I really thought cutting out the salt marsh would improve our chances of finding the remains.” He paced to the edge of the clearing and pushed back some of the branches that blocked his view of the marsh beyond.
A foot or more below, the salt marsh was a huge expanse of open land and waving grasses just starting to yellow with autumn’s cooling temperatures, the landscape stretching out in an unending flatland toward the ocean. Except for …
“Damn it, that wasn’t on the map.”
Leigh was on her feet, striding toward him. “What wasn’t on the map?”
“That upland area out there.” He pulled the branches down a little lower for her. “Can you see it?”
“No, it’s too high. All I can see is marsh. Hold on.” She set her foot on a nearby fallen trunk and, bracing her hand on his shoulder, she boosted herself up so she now stood several inches taller than Matt. Leaning her weight on him, she peered through the small gap in the branches.
He knew she’d spotted it when she went absolutely still.
About a quarter mile from where they stood, situated close to one of the major branches of the Essex River, was what appeared to be an island in the salt marsh—an upland area perhaps two or three hundred feet across and covered with trees. Another area, about a quarter of the size, stood due north of it.
“We didn’t look at that area because it’s in the salt marsh,” Leigh stated. “But that’s not marshland, is it?”
“No, that’s going to be upland forest, just like where we’re standing now.” He stared intently at the small parcel of land. “But think about it. A storm surge moves ahead of the hurricane. We’ve been looking for land that would be close to the salt marsh because it would be more exposed. Nothing is going to be more exposed than an area in the middle of the open marsh. How high do you think that is, maybe ten feet above the marsh? Maybe twelve feet max above sea level at the highest point?”
Leigh leaned forward, squinting. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell from here, especially since there’s so much tree cover.”
“I know you’re checking on the storm surge and what the height might have been, but if it was thirteen or fourteen feet high, that would be enough to swamp that entire upland area. Even a smaller surge would still scour the outer edges.” He glanced sideways at her, still leaning in close and braced against his shoulder. “We need to go out there.”
Suddenly a head popped between them. “What are we looking at?” Paul asked.
Leigh jerked backward in surprise at Paul’s abrupt appearance, the sudden shift in her weight causing her foot to slip on the mossy bark of the trunk. With a small gasp, she started to fall backward. Reaching out, she grasped handfuls of Matt’s shirt, desperately trying to anchor herself.
One moment she was falling, the next he was pulling her against him to slide down his body before setting her smoothly on the ground, his hands firmly holding her waist. He held her steady as she regained her balance, turning to glare at his grad student. “What?”
Paul’s face had gone beet red right up to his hairline, his alarmed eyes wide. “Uh … you seemed pretty interested in something out there, so I came over to find out what was going on … and … uh …” He trailed off, his horrified gaze darting from Matt’s angry expression to Leigh’s look of baffled surprise. “How about I wait over here until we’re ready to start again?” He turned and fled.
“Always the smart ass. He needs to learn a little of Juka’s discretion.” Matt loosened his grip on her waist, but didn’t release her. “You okay?”
The only sound she made was a strangled half-laugh against his shoulder as she slowly released her death grip on his T-shirt. She awkwardly smoothed the material against his chest as if embarrassed by the wrinkles she’d put there, her eyes downcast so she missed his raised brows at her stroking. “Yeah, thanks.” She abruptly stepped back, pulling against the hands that still held her and he instantly released her. “Almost ended up on my ass,” she said, as she busied herself straightening her shirt and weapon. “That wouldn’t have been very graceful.”
“No problem. But try not to fall out here. You might get a bit heavy if I have to carry you all the way back to the car because you fractured your lateral malleolus after supination with external rotation.” He looked at her pointedly, but with a half-smile so she’d know he was joking. “On the other hand, if Paul caused it, he can carry you.”
She laughed at that. “Do you always sweet talk women like this? I assume that was geek-speak for me breaking my ankle after gracelessly falling on my ass?”
“Got it in one,” he shot back.
“I try to be a quick study,” she quipped.
He turned away, calling to his students that the search would continue in a new location.
Hope pushed away exhaustion.
They had a new area to search.
CHAPTER FIVE: MARSH BORDER
Marsh Border: the upland edge of the marsh above the level of the normal high tide; an area flooded only during extreme tides and storms.
Monday, 6:35 P.M.
Essex Bay Coast, Massachusetts
The team picked their way across the marsh. They waded through the saltmeadow cordgrass, its slender stems parting easily before them only to be flattened by wind and water into tangled mats further into the marsh. As they made their way deeper into the intertidal zone, more drainage channels snaked through the marsh, forcing them to alter their course.
“When’s high tide today?” Matt called to Kiko. He glanced down at his watch before scanning the distance for the goal that never seemed to get any closer.
“Not for a few hours yet, but it’s coming in,” she called back. “We’re going to get caught in it on the way back if we stay out too long.”
“Great,” Matt muttered.
As they approached one of the meandering drainage channels snaking through the marsh, the grasses around them changed, becoming thicker, coarser, and taller. Juka and Paul swung their shovels over their shoulders and the group had to part the chest-high, dense grasses in front of them to push through.
The beauty of the marsh belied its danger. Crickets chirped, hidden deep in the grasses, and occasionally grasshoppers would fly into the air to protest the disturbance as the group passed by. The plaintive, slurred tlee-oo-whee of a migratory golden plover in flight, wings gracefully outstretched as it soared on the breeze, drew their eyes upward. In the distance, a great blue heron could be seen fishing in one of the offshoots of the river. It stood motionless in the water, waiting for prey to swim within reach of its great pointed bill.
A chill slithered down Matt’s spine as a stronger gust of wind blew through the open area of the swamp. The heat generated while hiking through the protected forest was disappearing, the sweat on his skin chilling rapidly in the cooling ocean breeze as the day eased gradually toward evening.
Finally, after hiking across the width of the marsh, they left the brightness of the open flats and moved into the shadow of the trees, stepping up onto solid ground at last. Matt climbed up first and then, bracing one foot, he held out a hand to Leigh and then to Kiko. Paul and Juka scrambled up from the marsh side-by-side.
Hands braced on his hips, Matt surveyed the small, forested area. “We’re at the south end of this island and it looks to me as if it expands outward from this point. We’ll fan out from here in parallel. Anyone sees anything, yell. We should all be able to hear one another, or send a message down the chain. Let’s go.”
They broke apart, each heading at a different angle, carefully picking their way over fallen trees and around thick bushes and scrub. All eyes fixed downward, sweeping back and forth, closely examining every square foot of land. The forest floor was different here,
with more fallen branches and downed trees. Smaller and lighter debris like leaves and needles had been swept away—all signs of the storm that had roared through, holding this small land mass in its fierce grip for a short period of time.
The silence and solitude of the search gave Matt time to turn over the events of the day.
If someone had told him this morning that he’d be putting aside his own research to help a cop with a murder investigation, he’d have laughed in their face. And yet, here he was. He didn’t think that Leigh had any idea when she’d mentioned Trevor Sharpe earlier that it was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. After years of competition between them and one incident of suspected academic dishonesty, Matt would practically sell his soul to avoid giving Sharpe anything he desired. That alone had assured his participation in the case. But now, after spending hours with Leigh, he was drawn in even further. She was smart and sexy as hell, but it was her drive to find justice for a nameless victim that really hooked him. It spoke to him on a visceral level and matched his own desire to identify the dead.
Ten minutes later, he heard the shout. He was on his knees examining the soil in a small clearing when he heard Paul’s voice calling his name. “Over here!” he called back.
“Trooper Abbott needs you. She’s found something,” said Paul’s disembodied voice.
Climbing up a small incline, Matt found Kiko and Paul waiting for him.
“Do you know where she is?” Matt asked them.
Kiko shook her head. “I just heard Juka shout that they needed you.”
“Then we’ll do this the old-fashioned way.” Matt cupped his hands over his mouth. “Leigh!”
“Matt! Over here.”
Angling further south, Matt picked up his pace, his students falling into step behind him. They broke through the foliage together, all three jerking to a stop at the sight in front of them.
Leigh and Juka knelt in a small cleared area, only a few feet away from the edge of the marsh. Yet there was no mistaking the shapes rising from the earth.
Right clavicle, sternal manubrium, ribs, anterior surface of the left scapula.
Then he realized what he didn’t see.
No skull. Upper left extremities and ribs missing.
“Damn it. No skull.” It wasn’t until Leigh glanced up that he realized he’d said it aloud. He circled the remains to stand beside her, then slid his pack off before kneeling in the dirt.
The body was partially covered with a layer of soil, leaving the top left side exposed to the elements. The surrounding area was swept smooth of leaves and loose soil.
Matt glanced over his shoulder, out into the marsh beyond. He could hear the rush of the Essex River, perhaps a hundred yards away. “You can see how it happened. The storm surge came through here, roaring across the open marsh, scouring everything in its path. Anything this exposed would be stripped clean by the wind and the water.” He focused on the pale bones. “It uncovered the victim.” He glanced at Leigh. “This was no hiking accident.”
“I agree.” She rolled easily to her feet. “I’ve got to call this in to my sergeant, Crime Scene Services, and the Essex Police. We can’t do much until the techs get here and we’re quickly losing the light.” Pulling out her cell phone, she stepped to the edge of the marsh to place the first of several calls.
A few minutes later, Leigh came back to stand beside Matt. “They’re on their way. They understand that we’re in a hurry, so they’ll get here as fast as possible. I also called the M.E.’s office to keep Rowe in the loop.”
“Does he want to check out the site before we start?”
“Rowe?” She started to turn away. “He and his staff don’t come out to sites.”
Matt reached out, catching her arm to stop her. “What do you mean ‘they don’t come out to sites’? Then who does liver temp, lividity, and rigor to determine time of death in a fresh victim?”
“No one.”
“What?”
Leigh shook off his hand. “Jurisdictions that can afford it send the M.E. or an assistant to a crime scene to do an on-site examination of the body to help establish time of death. Unfortunately, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts doesn’t have that in the budget.”
“Then who comes out to get the body?”
“The M.E.’s office will send a couple of techs to properly bag the body and transport it to the morgue. Once there, they do as-is photos, take fingerprints, and then toe-tag the body before storing it in the cooler. And that’s all they do until the autopsy, which can be days later. But that’s not all.”
“I can’t believe it. There’s more?”
“They base time of death on L.S.A.—the time the victim was last seen alive.”
Matt gaped at her in disbelief. “That’s incredibly inaccurate.”
“I know. So does Rowe. He’s well aware that they’re losing convictions because they can’t nail down time of death more precisely. He’s argued for additional funding to cover this for years, but no one is listening. This is just the reality of what the budget will allow and the constraints we have to work with. Anyway, when it comes to this particular case, Rowe will fully review all photos, evidence reports, and your written report as soon as it hits his desk, and will consult with you personally at that time.”
“I’m … appalled. I haven’t worked with the police a lot but I know colleagues back in Tennessee who do. That’s not how they do it there.”
“It shouldn’t be how we do it here. That’s why Rowe’s trying to change it.” Leigh turned back to study the burial site. “So, what’s next?”
“Kiko’s taking full photos of the area while we’re waiting. Then she’ll do the in-progress shots as well as the sketch work since she’s the one with the artistic eye. Paul, Juka, and I will do the actual excavation.”
“How far will you get tonight?”
“That’s going to depend on when the techs get here, but even if they arrive soon, we won’t get very far. We can’t work in the dark; we’d run the risk of damaging the remains. It will likely take us most of tomorrow to excavate and pack the remains for transfer to the lab. The remains will be safe once they’re back in the lab, but what about tonight?”
“You’re going to cover the site tonight?”
“Yes. But surely that won’t be good enough security for you now that you know that the remains are here?”
“I’ve arranged for the Essex Police to send an officer out here. From this point on, we need to maintain the chain of evidence.”
“Just as long as they don’t touch anything.” At Leigh’s withering look, Matt held up both hands defensively. “All right, all right. They’re cops and they know better.”
“I’d feel better knowing the site is being watched all the time. I know these remains have been exposed like this for at least two weeks, but …”
“Now they’re yours,” Matt finished for her.
“Yes,” she said. “Now they’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”
“I’m with you on that.” Seeing that Paul and Juka had already put on their Tyvek suits, Matt tugged his own suit out of his pack and started to pull it on. “Identification is going to be a lot harder because we’re missing the skull. It may have been pushed further inland, but I’d bet that it was probably swept out to sea by the storm surge. Luckily, the remains look to be in good shape. We’ll be able to pull a reliable DNA sample from the femur. But we’ll still need something to compare it to.” He studied the expression on her face and the twisted set of her mouth. “What?”
“DNA has to go to the state lab. You guys are not an accredited DNA lab. We need that for it to stand up in court.” Her tone clearly conveyed her weariness with this argument. “You have to understand that my hands are tied. It’s not that I don’t want a faster answer, it’s just that I need the right people to give it to me.”
Matt frowned. “But didn’t you say earlier that DNA results from the state lab could take anywhere from six months to two years?”<
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Embarrassed color flushed her cheeks. “Yes,” she muttered. “But evidence gets bumped up the line if a case is due in court so it’s not like we go into court without a complete case.”
“How about this then? We’ll take duplicate DNA samples. One of the samples goes to the state lab, the other goes to B.U. We’ll give you your answer first so you can use it in the course of the investigation. Then the state lab will confirm and you’ll have that evidence to go to court. Would that work?”
“It just might,” she said cautiously. “Are you always this sneaky?”
“I prefer ‘devious,’ personally. It’s more a matter of knowing how to work the system. I understand that you have a legal case to build and that you’ll have your evidence in time for a trial, but how do you investigate when you can’t even identify your victim because of a backlog at the lab? It’s simply not practical.”
“You’re right, of course.” Leigh stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Your students … they’ll be okay? They won’t …” She trailed off, as if suddenly unsure how to continue without offending him.
“Screw up?” he finished for her. “You have my word. They’re good kids, and they’ve got good skills and instincts. This will only help to hone them. I know we don’t know each other that well yet, Leigh, but you need to trust me on this.”
“You certainly haven’t given me cause to doubt your word so far. And you’ve brought me farther today than I ever dreamed possible. I think that deserves some leeway.”
“We just followed the trail that the evidence showed us. But don’t worry,” Matt added, “you’ll be standing alongside the whole time. If you’re like me, you’re not willing to put all of your faith in someone until they’ve proven themselves.”
Twenty-five minutes later, the sound of raised voices drifted through the trees. Leigh called out to them, directing them to the site. Shortly thereafter, three men broke into the clearing. They all carried heavy cases and were wearing navy windbreakers with “Crime Scene Services” printed on the back in blocky white letters. After a brief conversation with Matt, they immediately started to take photos of the area and initial samples of the topmost layers of soil. Then Matt and his team moved in.