and small bowel are largely missing, and remaining lungs, liver, and spleen have defects with serrated margins. Of interest are fluffy, shredded strands, presumed to be nerve and muscle fibers, found in all limb joints. Periosteum, including skull, ribs, and limb bones, also have similar fluffy strands. Noted around the corpse are numerous bird droppings.’” Isles looked up. “‘Assumed to be from crows.’”
Julia stared at her. “You’re saying
crows
did that?”
“These findings are classical for crow scavenging. Birds in general have been known to cause postmortem damage. Even cute little songbirds will peck and pull at a corpse’s skin. Crows are considerably larger and carnivorous, so they can skeletonize a corpse quickly. They devour all soft tissues, but they can’t quite pull off nerve fibers or tendons. Those strands remain attached to the joints, where they get frayed by repeated pecking. That’s why Dr. Costas described the strands as
fluffy
—because they’d been so thoroughly shredded by the crows’ beaks.” Isles closed the folder. “That’s the report.”
“You haven’t told me the cause of death.”
“Because it was indeterminable. After three weeks, there’s too much scavenger damage and decay.”
“Then you have no idea?”
“She was ninety-two. It was a hot summer, and she was out alone in her garden. It’s reasonable to assume she had a cardiac event.”
“But you can’t be sure.”
“No, we can’t.”
“So it could have been…”
“Murder?” Isles’s gaze was direct.
“She lived alone. She was vulnerable.”
“There’s no mention here of any disturbance in the house. No signs of a burglary.”
“Maybe the killer didn’t care about robbery. Maybe he was just interested in
her
. In what he could do to
her
.”
Isles said quietly: “Believe me, I do understand what you’re thinking. What you’re afraid of. In my profession, I’ve seen what people can do to other people. Terrible things that make you question what it is to be human, whether we’re any better than animals. But this particular death just doesn’t ring any alarm bells for me. Common things are common, and in the case of a ninety-two-year-old woman found dead in her own backyard, murder isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.” Isles regarded Julia for a moment. “I can see you’re not satisfied.”
Julia sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry I ever bought the house. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I moved in.”
“You haven’t been living there very long. It’s stressful, moving into a new place. Give yourself some time to get used to it. There’s always an adjustment period.”
“I’ve been having dreams,” Julia said.
Isles didn’t look impressed, and why would she? This was a woman who routinely sliced open the dead, a woman who’d chosen a career that would give most people nightmares. “What sort of dreams?”
“It’s been three weeks now, and I’ve had them almost every night. I keep hoping they’ll go away, that it’s just from the shock of finding those bones in my garden.”
“That could give anyone nightmares.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts. Really, I don’t. But I feel as if she’s trying to talk to me. Asking me to
do
something.”
“The deceased owner? Or the skeleton?”
“I don’t know.
Someone.
”
Isles’s expression remained utterly neutral. If she believed Julia was unhinged, her face didn’t reveal it. But her words left no doubt where she stood on the matter. “I’m not sure I can help you with that. I’m just a pathologist, and I’ve told you my professional opinion.”
“And in your professional opinion, murder is still a possibility, isn’t it?” insisted Julia. “You can’t rule it out.”
Isles hesitated. “No,” she finally conceded. “I can’t.”
That night, Julia dreamed of crows. Hundreds of them were perched in a dead tree, staring down at her with
Julia stared at her. “You’re saying
crows
did that?”
“These findings are classical for crow scavenging. Birds in general have been known to cause postmortem damage. Even cute little songbirds will peck and pull at a corpse’s skin. Crows are considerably larger and carnivorous, so they can skeletonize a corpse quickly. They devour all soft tissues, but they can’t quite pull off nerve fibers or tendons. Those strands remain attached to the joints, where they get frayed by repeated pecking. That’s why Dr. Costas described the strands as
fluffy
—because they’d been so thoroughly shredded by the crows’ beaks.” Isles closed the folder. “That’s the report.”
“You haven’t told me the cause of death.”
“Because it was indeterminable. After three weeks, there’s too much scavenger damage and decay.”
“Then you have no idea?”
“She was ninety-two. It was a hot summer, and she was out alone in her garden. It’s reasonable to assume she had a cardiac event.”
“But you can’t be sure.”
“No, we can’t.”
“So it could have been…”
“Murder?” Isles’s gaze was direct.
“She lived alone. She was vulnerable.”
“There’s no mention here of any disturbance in the house. No signs of a burglary.”
“Maybe the killer didn’t care about robbery. Maybe he was just interested in
her
. In what he could do to
her
.”
Isles said quietly: “Believe me, I do understand what you’re thinking. What you’re afraid of. In my profession, I’ve seen what people can do to other people. Terrible things that make you question what it is to be human, whether we’re any better than animals. But this particular death just doesn’t ring any alarm bells for me. Common things are common, and in the case of a ninety-two-year-old woman found dead in her own backyard, murder isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.” Isles regarded Julia for a moment. “I can see you’re not satisfied.”
Julia sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry I ever bought the house. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I moved in.”
“You haven’t been living there very long. It’s stressful, moving into a new place. Give yourself some time to get used to it. There’s always an adjustment period.”
“I’ve been having dreams,” Julia said.
Isles didn’t look impressed, and why would she? This was a woman who routinely sliced open the dead, a woman who’d chosen a career that would give most people nightmares. “What sort of dreams?”
“It’s been three weeks now, and I’ve had them almost every night. I keep hoping they’ll go away, that it’s just from the shock of finding those bones in my garden.”
“That could give anyone nightmares.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts. Really, I don’t. But I feel as if she’s trying to talk to me. Asking me to
do
something.”
“The deceased owner? Or the skeleton?”
“I don’t know.
Someone.
”
Isles’s expression remained utterly neutral. If she believed Julia was unhinged, her face didn’t reveal it. But her words left no doubt where she stood on the matter. “I’m not sure I can help you with that. I’m just a pathologist, and I’ve told you my professional opinion.”
“And in your professional opinion, murder is still a possibility, isn’t it?” insisted Julia. “You can’t rule it out.”
Isles hesitated. “No,” she finally conceded. “I can’t.”
That night, Julia dreamed of crows. Hundreds of them were perched in a dead tree, staring down at her with
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