The Coldest Fear by Rick Reed Page A

stone.”
    The room became quiet while they digested this.

C HAPTER T HIRTEEN
    The autopsy was thorough. It lasted two hours and thirty-three minutes, and by the time Jack and Liddell left they were gasping for fresh air. Dead flesh and exposed innards have a particular smell that can never be described to someone not familiar with them. While the long dead make even the strongest stomach roil, freshly dead bodies reek of their own mélange of odors. Jack had taken his sport coat off before entering the autopsy room and was now hesitant to put it back on.
    â€œSo we have two scenarios at least,” Jack said, facing Liddell. “Okay, since you’re bigger you get to be the killer.” He stood directly in front of Liddell. “She was cut on the left side of the neck with something sharp and heavy like an axe blade.”
    Using his right hand, Liddell mocked a swinging motion to the left side of Jack’s neck. “That makes our killer right handed.”
    Jack turned around, his back to Liddell. “Do it again.”
    Liddell made the swinging motion again with his right hand. This time it appeared that if the killer used his right hand, the knife would have struck the victim in the right side of the neck.
    â€œDr. John said the blade penetrated at least four inches,” Liddell said. “He thought the killer used his left hand. How many people are left handed?”
    â€œToo many,” Jack said. “And besides, the wound was made at an upward angle. It would have been hard to get that kind of cut if the victim was standing up unless the killer was extremely tall.”
    â€œCordelia was five foot six inches tall,” Liddell said. “The killer would have been at least as tall as me, and even then it would be hard to get the right type of angle with her standing. It makes more sense if she was already on the ground, or on her knees when the blow was struck.”
    â€œShe could have been struck in the face and then fallen to her knees,” Jack offered an opinion. “Then the blow to the neck,” he said, making a motion with his left hand as if he was swinging a short axe at an upward angle.
    â€œLooks about right to me,” Liddell said. “But of course we don’t know any of this for sure.”
    â€œOkay. Let’s go through what we do know.” Jack said. “According to Cordelia’s Illinois driver’s license she is five-foot-six-inches tall. If she was standing when she was killed there would have been more blood on the ceiling and floor according to Walker. Not to mention that the killer would have had a hard time striking the blow if she was standing.”
    â€œSo what are you saying, pod’na?”
    â€œWalker thinks she was killed on the bed,” Jack said, and then shook his head. “We need to talk to Walker again. Get a better idea about where she might have been when the blow to the neck occurred.”
    â€œWant to go now?”
    Jack held up the bag of personal items they had recovered from Cordelia Morse’s clothing. The bag contained one earring, some change, and a chewing-gum wrapper. “Did you keep the driver’s license?”
    Liddell pulled it from his pocket.
    â€œLet’s go to the station and fill Captain Franklin in. Then we need to go to Shawneetown. Let’s get a map and find out who we need to talk to.”
    â€œHow’s about hitting Donut Bank before we go back to headquarters?” Liddell said.
    â€œYou go ahead. Inhale a dozen or so for me.”
    â€œYou cut me to the quick, pod’na,” Liddell said, but before they could start toward their cars the coroner’s secretary came into the parking lot and told Jack that he had a phone call.

C HAPTER F OURTEEN
    Satellite dishes were hoisted from the roofs of the Channel Six and Channel Forty-Four news vans parked just outside the crime scene tape. The news crews were mingling with the crowd of onlookers