throat, cutting the windpipe and vital veins and arteries; the woman had nearly been decapitated. There was bruising on the throat. There was a ragged gash right beneath the ribs, and followed down on the right-hand side of the body to the pelvis, displaying the kidneys. There were two cuts to the genitals, deep, and violent.
It was all so frighteningly exact.
Down to the wounds, the direction of the wounds, everything.
She felt Jude Crosby’s eyes on her, over the body of the dead woman, and she met his gaze. Steady, but not challenging, she warned herself. They’d been asked in, through Adam Harrison’s nudging, but it was still best to keep things as copacetic as possible.
“Doc, you scraped beneath her nails?”
“Of course—but we’re not going to get anything. She didn’t have a chance to fight him. She doesn’t have a single defensive wound on her.”
“Fibers? Threads? Hairs?”
“She went fast—the lab has her clothing.”
Jude nodded. “All right. We’ll leave you to close her up. Call me if anything—”
“Yes, of course, Jude. If anything, whatsoever. I’m not expecting anything on the toxicology reports, but, I promise, I’ll let you know immediately.” He hesitated, looking at Jude. “I still have your Jane Does in here,” he said. “Are we getting anywhere with them?”
“We’ve sent out the picture of the girl who died on the way to the hospital—we’ve sent it everywhere in hell, and nothing,” Jude said. “The second girl…the one from the water. Well, you saw her face. Not even a mother’s love could help her recognize that child. I just asked my lieutenant yesterday about getting a graphic artist over. I’m not great on computers, but I know that a good graphic artist can do an amazing job with a likeness.”
“Well, I’ll get with you as soon as I have…anything,” Wally Fullbright assured him grimly. “Miss Tremont—a pleasure, even if we’re meeting under sad circumstances.”
“You, too, Dr. Fullbright,” Whitney said. “Thank you. Except…would it be possible for me to see the two girls who died last week?”
She thought that Jake would step in and proprietarily inform her that they had nothing to do with this case, and that he had it covered.
Fullbright did look to Jake.
Jake nodded.
“My assistant will escort you,” Fullbright said.
“Thank you,” she told him.
They followed a fellow in scrubs out and down the hall. In another room, there were rows and rows of steel drawers. Apparently, despite the number of deaths that came through the morgue, the murders of the two unknown girls were remembered. The assistant knew right where he was going. He glanced at Jake apologetically. “We’re calling them Jane Doe wet and Jane Doe dry. The more recent body was pulled from the river,” he explained to Whitney, something she already knew. Jackson Crow was thorough when he briefed his team.
He pulled out the drawer and pulled back the shroud-like sheet covering the corpse.
Whitney locked her jaw.
The flesh on the girl’s face had met with the elements and any number of hungry river carnivores. The skull peeked through in many places. The skin that remained was a mottled gray-blue color, where it wasn’t pulpy-red.
She glanced at Jake. “I’d like to take some photos. One of my teammates is a true whiz on a computer. He can work any graphics program invented, and I think he can get us a likeness of this girl’s face by tonight. He’s flying in tomorrow, but if he can get something right away, you can have the image by morning.”
He was still wearing a mask over his mouth; maybe that made his eyes seem all the more intense. He nodded.
She looked at the M.E.’s assistant. “I need a tape measure or a ruler,” she told him.
“We have excellent photos at the station,” Crosby told her.
“I can email these straight from my phone,” she told him.
He obliged her with a nod, and she drew out her little high-megapixel phone/camera,
It was all so frighteningly exact.
Down to the wounds, the direction of the wounds, everything.
She felt Jude Crosby’s eyes on her, over the body of the dead woman, and she met his gaze. Steady, but not challenging, she warned herself. They’d been asked in, through Adam Harrison’s nudging, but it was still best to keep things as copacetic as possible.
“Doc, you scraped beneath her nails?”
“Of course—but we’re not going to get anything. She didn’t have a chance to fight him. She doesn’t have a single defensive wound on her.”
“Fibers? Threads? Hairs?”
“She went fast—the lab has her clothing.”
Jude nodded. “All right. We’ll leave you to close her up. Call me if anything—”
“Yes, of course, Jude. If anything, whatsoever. I’m not expecting anything on the toxicology reports, but, I promise, I’ll let you know immediately.” He hesitated, looking at Jude. “I still have your Jane Does in here,” he said. “Are we getting anywhere with them?”
“We’ve sent out the picture of the girl who died on the way to the hospital—we’ve sent it everywhere in hell, and nothing,” Jude said. “The second girl…the one from the water. Well, you saw her face. Not even a mother’s love could help her recognize that child. I just asked my lieutenant yesterday about getting a graphic artist over. I’m not great on computers, but I know that a good graphic artist can do an amazing job with a likeness.”
“Well, I’ll get with you as soon as I have…anything,” Wally Fullbright assured him grimly. “Miss Tremont—a pleasure, even if we’re meeting under sad circumstances.”
“You, too, Dr. Fullbright,” Whitney said. “Thank you. Except…would it be possible for me to see the two girls who died last week?”
She thought that Jake would step in and proprietarily inform her that they had nothing to do with this case, and that he had it covered.
Fullbright did look to Jake.
Jake nodded.
“My assistant will escort you,” Fullbright said.
“Thank you,” she told him.
They followed a fellow in scrubs out and down the hall. In another room, there were rows and rows of steel drawers. Apparently, despite the number of deaths that came through the morgue, the murders of the two unknown girls were remembered. The assistant knew right where he was going. He glanced at Jake apologetically. “We’re calling them Jane Doe wet and Jane Doe dry. The more recent body was pulled from the river,” he explained to Whitney, something she already knew. Jackson Crow was thorough when he briefed his team.
He pulled out the drawer and pulled back the shroud-like sheet covering the corpse.
Whitney locked her jaw.
The flesh on the girl’s face had met with the elements and any number of hungry river carnivores. The skull peeked through in many places. The skin that remained was a mottled gray-blue color, where it wasn’t pulpy-red.
She glanced at Jake. “I’d like to take some photos. One of my teammates is a true whiz on a computer. He can work any graphics program invented, and I think he can get us a likeness of this girl’s face by tonight. He’s flying in tomorrow, but if he can get something right away, you can have the image by morning.”
He was still wearing a mask over his mouth; maybe that made his eyes seem all the more intense. He nodded.
She looked at the M.E.’s assistant. “I need a tape measure or a ruler,” she told him.
“We have excellent photos at the station,” Crosby told her.
“I can email these straight from my phone,” she told him.
He obliged her with a nod, and she drew out her little high-megapixel phone/camera,
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