Dead, Without a Stone to Tell It

by Jen J. Danna

  “Now, what you can’t obviously see here is the extent of bone injury. To begin with, both bones in the victim’s forearms are broken. Bruising indicates a single blow with a tool likely less than an inch in diameter. We’ve taken samples for trace to determine the material.”

  “Breaking her arms took away any possibility of self defense from that point on.” There was ice behind Leigh’s words. “What are you thinking of as the weapon? A crowbar or tire iron?” She leaned in to study the right forearm. “The bruising comes from the underside of the arm. Defensive wounds?” She raised both arms over her head, wrists crossed over her forehead as if fending off a blow.

  “We’ll test for particulate matter but yes, that’s a likely theory. Which means that she was awake and aware of what was happening to her.” He pointed to several x-rays that hung on the light box on the wall. “Most of her fingers are also broken. From the crush pattern on the x-rays, I’m thinking that something like a hammer was used. Ribs eight through ten are fractured on her left side, consistent with the external bruising you have suggested as being caused by a chain. She also has a crush fracture of the left temporal bone.” He patted his fingers against his head, just above his left ear. “Since he’s working with us, I’d like your anthropologist to look at that one to confirm, but based on the radiating pattern, my guess is it’s from a baseball bat.”

  Leigh’s face flushed with heat as anger started to rise. “Bastard. Was that the cause of death?”

  “The internal exam will show for sure, but I don’t think so.” He pointed to the neck area. “Remember the bruising around the throat we discussed on site and the associated petechiae of the sclera and the conjunctivae of the eye? The head injury would certainly have caused a loss of consciousness but manual strangulation was likely the cause of death. We should find associated breakage of the hyoid bone as well as the thyroid cartilage horns. None of the stab wounds would have been fatal. Whoever did this took his time so that this woman suffered, but she did it quietly. We found fibers in her teeth indicating she was gagged. I’ve sent them to the lab for identification. I wonder if that means that she was killed in a location where other people might have been able to hear her scream.”

  “Possibly. Or he was just being very careful and wasn’t taking any chances.”

  “True.” Rowe moved around the table, motioning for Leigh to follow him. “Before we make the Y-incision, I want you to see this. I missed it at the scene under all the blood and it’s hard to see as it’s buried amidst some significant contusions.” He pointed to a wound located above the victim’s left breast.

  Leigh leaned closer as Rowe adjusted the overhead light to shine directly onto the spot in question. A series of interconnected lines were carved into the bruised flesh. “What is that … some sort of Chinese symbol?”

  “That’s my best guess, but that’s your department, not mine. We’ve taken detailed photographs and I’ll get them to you as soon as we’re done here.”

  “This could be his signature.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanted to make sure that you saw it.”

  Leigh was silent as she studied the mark. “How deep does that go?”

  “The wound itself?”

  “Yes. Would it go right down to the ribs?”

  Rowe’s eyes lit with understanding. “I see where you’re going with this. You want to know if any of the other victims had the same mark, but you only have skeletonized remains.” Leigh nodded. “There might be traces left on the bone structure, but the marks could be pretty subtle. Lowell might have to look microscopically for traces of such a wound. On the bright side, if it’s a true signature, then at least he’ll know where to look. Most serial killers repeat their signatures fairly precisely.”

  “It’s like it’s a badge. Look at the placement.” With the fingers of her right hand, Leigh tapped the same spot over her own left breast. “Think of a police uniform.”

  “That’s where your shield goes.”

  “Precisely. It’s like he carved it there as some sort of badge or an insignia.” Her eyes narrowed on the defect. “But of what?”

  “First step is to find out what it means,” Rowe said. “Then maybe it will lead you to something. Now, if you’re ready, let’s get started.”

  Leigh swallowed and stepped back a few paces to where there was no risk of a splash hazard. “Ready when you are.”

  Circling the table again to his original position, Rowe picked up his scalpel and bent over the body.

  Wednesday, 2:57 P.M.

  Office of the Chief Medical Examiner

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Leaving the autopsy suite, Leigh indulged in a deep breath of fresh air. Bracing one hand against the wall and holding the files to her chest with the other, she let her head drop as she closed her eyes. She just needed to get her balance back—

  “Autopsy too rough for you, Abbott?”

  The sharp tone scraped along her spine like ice. She raised her head to see the one man she’d like to see taken off the face of the planet even if it meant doing it herself. Len Morrison stalked down the hall toward her, wearing a cheap suit and his typical scornful expression.

  Damn it all to hell. Why does he have to be here now?

  She schooled her features into a blank mask. “It was just peachy, Morrison. I love a good autopsy. How about you?”

  To her surprise, he stepped into her, purposely crowding her against the wall with his bulky frame, his chest bumping the files in her arms, nearly making her drop them. “Bullshit,” he sneered.

  Leigh scrambled to maintain her white-knuckled grip on the files, but held her ground. She stubbornly wouldn’t allow herself to give way to him even as she struggled against the aftereffects of the most brutal autopsy she’d ever attended coupled with the light-headedness that came from not eating in more than nine hours.

  Morrison leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing to little slits, his nostrils pinched and his lip curling as if he smelled something putrid. Leigh had to steel herself to not turn her face away from the sour coffee on his breath that made her already unsettled stomach churn in protest. “You look like you’re about to crumple. Daddy’s little bitch can’t handle the tough stuff?”

  The venom in his tone shot straight to her heart, but Leigh kept her voice level. “She certainly can. Just as well as the guys.”

  “I doubt it. You haven’t got the nerve. Just one more time when we see you don’t have the balls to be a cop. You wouldn’t even be with us if it wasn’t for your dad. You’ve been given a free pass from day one and everybody knows it.”

  His words washed over her like a wave of ice water. The double-edged knife of doubt and uncertainty rose up full force to slice cleanly, its edge as razor sharp as he intended. Morrison took advantage of her moment of shocked silence to twist the blade one more turn.

  “I don’t know how you live with yourself. You killed a cop, a fellow officer. You might as well have pulled the fucking trigger yourself,” he snarled, tiny droplets of spittle flying from his mouth to spray against her cheek. “If you’d been anybody else’s kid, you would have been gone after that. But daddy’s girl got off with a pat on the head and an early transfer into the Detective Unit like it was some kind of reward for your failure.”

  Guilt twisted her gut. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she furiously blinked them back. You’re done if you let him see that he’s getting to you.

  As if sensing weakness, Morrison went in for the kill. “Good thing your father died before the hero could see what his spawn would do. The sight of you would have made him sick.”

  Hot, energizing anger rushed through Leigh, crushing the guilt and horror that threatened to break free. She raised her head so that she was practically nose-to-nose with Morrison and dropped her voice so no one could overhear. “Fuck you, Morrison,” she retorted, her voice low and hard. “You know I was cleared in that investigation. It’s over. Stop trying to throw it in my face, because as far as the
department is concerned, it’s a closed book. And my father would be nothing but proud of my time on the job.” She stepped back, squaring her shoulders to stand tall, and allowed a hint of triumph to come into both her expression and voice. “Just because you’re jealous of the case I caught when you’ve got nothing more exciting than a heroin O.D. doesn’t mean you need to get nasty.”

  “Case? What case?” The bafflement in his voice lightened her heart considerably. “You mean that pathetic beaver dam bone? That’s hardly a case.”

  Leigh spun on her heel and started to stride off down the hallway, leaving him standing alone outside the autopsy suite. But she took the time to call back over her shoulder. “Tune into the news tonight, Morrison, so you can catch up with the rest of the world.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE: OVERWASH

  Overwash: the movement and deposition of sand driven over the top of a barrier beach by storms or strong winds.

  Wednesday, 4:11 P.M.

  Essex Bay Coast, Massachusetts

  Wrapping one hand around the rough bark of an aged elm tree, Leigh pulled herself from the salt marsh onto dry land and walked up the small incline. Flashing a weak smile at the Essex officer stationed at the edge of the marsh, she moved through the trees, heading toward the northern edge of the island.

  Exhaustion ran deep in body and soul, and an aching stress headache throbbed rhythmically in her temples. The energizing anger that had come to her rescue during the earlier argument had melted away as she drove north. Now she simply felt unsettled and anxious. Morrison’s attack had clearly hit closer to home than she first realized. And after today’s incident, it was likely that he would simply redouble his efforts. He wanted to drive her out of the department and she simply couldn’t allow that to happen. Police work ran in her blood just like it had in her father’s.

  She came to the edge of the foliage, stopping just short of breaking through as she peered through the leaves.

  Another Essex officer kept watch from the tree line while talking with several Crime Scene Services techs. Inside the clearing, Matt’s students each crouched at a different grave. Matt was on his feet, a small trowel in hand as he moved between Juka’s excavation and Paul’s. He crouched down near Paul and nodded at something the younger man said, his eyes fixed grimly on the burial site.

  Leigh took a minute to gather herself. Then, pasting on a pleasant smile, she pushed through the trees.

  As soon as she cleared the brush, Matt’s head immediately snapped up as if he’d been anxiously awaiting her arrival. Seeing her at the edge of the clearing, he said a quiet word to the group, left his trowel beside the grave, and climbed to his feet to cross the clearing.

  Alarm rushed through Leigh at the bleakness in his eyes, wobbling the smile she was desperately trying to maintain. “What’s wrong?”

  He stopped a few feet away, his brow furrowed. “I was going to ask you the same thing. I can’t decide if you’re going to laugh or cry.”

  She let the smile fall away. Clearly it wasn’t working anyway. “It’s nothing. Everything’s fine.” Brushing him off, she started past him. “How are we doing here?”

  He surprised her by reaching out and loosely clasping her wrist, holding her beside him. Not wanting to make a scene and draw attention, she turned to face him.

  “It’s not ‘nothing.’ I can see it in your eyes. What happened?” he insisted.

  She gave a small tug, but he held firm. Frustration made her snappish. “This case isn’t enough for you?”

  Matt’s gaze flicked to the floor of the clearing and the exposed bones. “It’s more than enough,” he said harshly. “But that’s not all it is.”

  She stared at him intently, green eyes fixed on unblinking hazel. “Why won’t you let it go?”

  “Because something’s wrong. I can see it.”

  Leigh stared at the man planted solidly beside her, not willing to budge and not willing to let her run. Over his shoulder, she noticed that all three students had stopped working as if waiting for something to happen.

  “Was the autopsy that bad?” he prompted.

  “Yes. No.” She blew out a frustrated breath and closed her eyes, trying to center herself. When she opened them again, she realized he’d moved so that he physically blocked her from the students’ view, giving her a modicum of privacy. He didn’t press; instead, he just waited in silence for her to continue.

  “The autopsy was worse than any other autopsy I’ve seen, and all the other ones were nightmares, so I’m not even sure how to classify this one. But that’s not the issue.”

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  “I had a run in at the M.E.’s office with another detective.”

  Matt’s expression went sharp at her words. “What do you mean a ‘run in’?”

  “We had words. Look, Matt, it’s nothing. You have to be tough to do this job. You show any sign of weakness, especially as a woman, and your credibility is gone. I can handle it. I have to handle it.”

  Indecision flickered over his face before he forced himself to step back. “If you’re sure you can handle it, I’ll back off.”

  She pulled her arm from his loose grip, but gave him a half-smile of thanks. “It’s not the first time. This one just hit a little too close to home. I need to grow a thicker skin. But thank you.” Shaking off the upset, she turned back to the crime scene. “So, what have we got here?”

  Matt’s expression turned grim again. “You’re not going to believe what we have here.”

  “It’s bad?”

  “Yes, but you need to see for yourself.” He started across the clearing, carefully cutting a wide berth around the exposed remains.

  They crossed the clearing and joined the rest of the group. Leigh acknowledged Kiko’s small smile of welcome, but the men’s serious expressions didn’t change. Dread started to pool in the pit of her stomach.

  Matt crouched down beside Kiko, motioning for Leigh to join him. “What I originally wanted to do was simply determine the outer boundaries of each grave site. The goal was to take each site down just a couple of inches, so we had an idea of the position of the remains. Kiko was the first one to notice that something was off.”

  “Off?”

  Matt pointed down into the grave. “Look here. You see this skull?”

  The smooth lines of a skull rose from the dark soil, the eye sockets shaded with packed dirt. “I see it,” Leigh said.

  “Kiko was trying to orient the scapula and clavicle. But she found something else instead.” He picked up a whisk and, with a few quick flicks, brushed the loose dirt from another bone, almost completely buried inches below the skull and slightly off to the side.

  Horror blossomed. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It is if you think it’s a second skull.”

  Leigh shot to her feet. “Two bodies in the same grave?”

  “It gets worse.”

  For a second, Leigh thought she could hear buzzing in her ears. “How?”

  “Once we realized that Kiko’s grave had two sets of remains, I had Paul and Juka concentrate on depth in a small section to see if there was a second skeleton in theirs. All three graves have at least two bodies in them. We need to excavate deeper to know if there are any more than that.”

  Leigh opened her mouth, closed it, then tried to sync her mouth with her shell-shocked brain again. “At least two? In each grave?”

  “Yes.”

  Leigh had to turn away to pace off a few steps while she tried to process this new information.

  The case that had started as a single bone now involved at least eight victims: three double graves here, a single grave on the west side of the island and this morning’s victim.

  She turned around to find Matt watching her, concern etching his features. “We’re looking at a minimum of eight victims.”

  He nodded.

  “Eight?” she repeated, disbelief ringing in the single word.

  Matt simply met her eyes in silence.
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br />   “But why the change in burials? We have the single grave that we found Monday and the single interment that we interrupted this morning. But there are three supposedly double graves here. Why the change? Are we looking at two different killers sharing the same burial ground?”

  “Maybe once we’ve fully excavated these remains, we’ll have some answers for you. Until then …” Matt’s voice trailed off.

  “Tonight’s media conference is going to be a circus once this information gets out. The locals are going to panic when they hear about this because they’re going to think ‘serial killer.’ ”

  “You have to have a press conference now? Tonight?”

  “The wheels are already in motion for seven o’clock.” When Matt opened his mouth to speak, Leigh cut him off. “It’s standard protocol during any homicide investigation. We give out only minimal details, and, if necessary, a warning to the public if there is any perception that they may be in danger.”

  “How do you warn the public about this?” Matt asked. “In the victims we’ve examined so far, they all seem to come from different age groups so there doesn’t seem to be any pattern. And whatever you do, don’t announce the body count yet. I’d like to do the full excavation before making any sort of official announcement,” Matt clarified.

  “You want to be sure.”

  “Yes. We’ll know in a matter of days, but you have to give us time.”

  “We’ll just say multiple victims then and leave it at that.”

  “Thanks. Where will the press conference be?”

  “We’re setting up to do it in front of the Essex police station since they’re the local police department. I have to be there, but the D.A.’s press officer will run it.” She glanced at her watch. “Damn. I still need to get back home and change into soft clothes.” She brushed at a dark stain on her jeans, and self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “This is not the image the department wants to project as their finest.”

  “Looks to me like their finest has simply been hard at work. You don’t think the public would understand that? Wouldn’t they rather you work hard than just look like you work hard?”