defect from birth.”
“You mind?” Dickie asked.
“Go for it,” Jake said, stepping back.
Dickie took a look. Then reached into his pocket, scribbled something in his notebook.
Kelsey reached above the gurney table and pulled down a square light. It was connected to the end of a metal arm she could maneuver around in an accordionlike fashion. The heat from the bulb as Kelsey pulled the light over his arms reminded Jake of reaching into a hot buffet. Kelsey exposed various areas of Lisa’s torso as she explained things to Jake and Dickie they knew already—technical terms and medical explanations of no interest to the Dynamic Duo. Lisa’s torso was wide open in front of them. Kelsey had used the same incision the killer originally made, but added two additional upward strokes, in a Y-pattern, toward Lisa’s bony, pointed, supermodel shoulders. Then she peeled the two chest flaps back and clamped them down to the sides of the gurney. Lisa Marie had been filleted open.
Jake watched this with a jaded sense of envy, not paying much attention. He thought of the type of person who could do such a thing to another human being. It was not going to be easy to catch this psycho. Nonetheless, there was a clue here somewhere. A hair. Fiber. An imperative piece of the puzzle. All killers slipped up. Some left evidence on purpose.
The signature.
“Her face is in rather good shape, all considering,” Dickie said.
“The inside of the mouth was purple yesterday,” Jake observed.
“That color washed off. She was definitely beaten postmortem. Those bruises along her right cheek”—Kelsey pointed—“are superficial, they do not affect the muscle tissue. I cut a sample off her face out so we could run a few additional tests.”
“Where is it?” Jake asked.
“In the freezer. I placed it on a hockey goalie mask and froze it in the contour of her face to keep the texture and surface as natural as possible.”
“Ah … yeah …” Jake said. He and Dickie looked at each other.
Yikes. What an image.
“Boston Bruin fan, I see?” Dickie said to the doctor.
She gave him a cold stare over the top of her glasses.
“We can check it out later.” Jake put his hands in his pockets. “Please continue.”
“We’re ninety-nine percent alike,” Kelsey explained, glancing down at the chart in front of her, then looking back up at them. “All of us. Our DNA is just about all the same. It’s that one percent that makes each of us different. Just one percent. Two thousand proteins are created every second in our bodies. That adds to our make-up. But one percent separates us.”
“Interesting lesson. Mr. Discovery Channel here,” Jake looked over at Dickie, “loves this shit. But how’s that got anything to do with my case?”
The doctor pointed with a pen to Lisa’s chest cavity. “I’m getting to that.”
Jake noticed that Lisa’s rib cage on the right side was gone.
“What’s that?” he asked, puzzled. “You take it out?”
“You don’t know?” Kelsey said. “No one told you?” She looked at Dickie, who held up his hands as if someone held a gun to his back.
There was an empty space in Lisa’s chest about the size of a man’s fist. Her ribs were cut precisely with some sort of electric tool, exposing the tar-colored bone marrow inside like a dog bone.
“It’s gone,” Kelsey said.
“What’s ‘gone’?” Jake was missing something.
“Her heart.”
Jake looked at Dickie.
“I’m no profiler,” Kelsey said, “but someone who takes out the heart of his victim has sexual issues to compensate for. Impotence, maybe? Viagra complex. Loss of love.”
“The father?” Dickie tossed out.
Jake walked over to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands. “Wait a minute here. No. No. No. The heart has been extracted because he is telling us something. But the anomaly is somewhere else. Dickie, a father would never do that. Take out his daughter’s heart to cover up a sex crime.”
“You mind?” Dickie asked.
“Go for it,” Jake said, stepping back.
Dickie took a look. Then reached into his pocket, scribbled something in his notebook.
Kelsey reached above the gurney table and pulled down a square light. It was connected to the end of a metal arm she could maneuver around in an accordionlike fashion. The heat from the bulb as Kelsey pulled the light over his arms reminded Jake of reaching into a hot buffet. Kelsey exposed various areas of Lisa’s torso as she explained things to Jake and Dickie they knew already—technical terms and medical explanations of no interest to the Dynamic Duo. Lisa’s torso was wide open in front of them. Kelsey had used the same incision the killer originally made, but added two additional upward strokes, in a Y-pattern, toward Lisa’s bony, pointed, supermodel shoulders. Then she peeled the two chest flaps back and clamped them down to the sides of the gurney. Lisa Marie had been filleted open.
Jake watched this with a jaded sense of envy, not paying much attention. He thought of the type of person who could do such a thing to another human being. It was not going to be easy to catch this psycho. Nonetheless, there was a clue here somewhere. A hair. Fiber. An imperative piece of the puzzle. All killers slipped up. Some left evidence on purpose.
The signature.
“Her face is in rather good shape, all considering,” Dickie said.
“The inside of the mouth was purple yesterday,” Jake observed.
“That color washed off. She was definitely beaten postmortem. Those bruises along her right cheek”—Kelsey pointed—“are superficial, they do not affect the muscle tissue. I cut a sample off her face out so we could run a few additional tests.”
“Where is it?” Jake asked.
“In the freezer. I placed it on a hockey goalie mask and froze it in the contour of her face to keep the texture and surface as natural as possible.”
“Ah … yeah …” Jake said. He and Dickie looked at each other.
Yikes. What an image.
“Boston Bruin fan, I see?” Dickie said to the doctor.
She gave him a cold stare over the top of her glasses.
“We can check it out later.” Jake put his hands in his pockets. “Please continue.”
“We’re ninety-nine percent alike,” Kelsey explained, glancing down at the chart in front of her, then looking back up at them. “All of us. Our DNA is just about all the same. It’s that one percent that makes each of us different. Just one percent. Two thousand proteins are created every second in our bodies. That adds to our make-up. But one percent separates us.”
“Interesting lesson. Mr. Discovery Channel here,” Jake looked over at Dickie, “loves this shit. But how’s that got anything to do with my case?”
The doctor pointed with a pen to Lisa’s chest cavity. “I’m getting to that.”
Jake noticed that Lisa’s rib cage on the right side was gone.
“What’s that?” he asked, puzzled. “You take it out?”
“You don’t know?” Kelsey said. “No one told you?” She looked at Dickie, who held up his hands as if someone held a gun to his back.
There was an empty space in Lisa’s chest about the size of a man’s fist. Her ribs were cut precisely with some sort of electric tool, exposing the tar-colored bone marrow inside like a dog bone.
“It’s gone,” Kelsey said.
“What’s ‘gone’?” Jake was missing something.
“Her heart.”
Jake looked at Dickie.
“I’m no profiler,” Kelsey said, “but someone who takes out the heart of his victim has sexual issues to compensate for. Impotence, maybe? Viagra complex. Loss of love.”
“The father?” Dickie tossed out.
Jake walked over to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands. “Wait a minute here. No. No. No. The heart has been extracted because he is telling us something. But the anomaly is somewhere else. Dickie, a father would never do that. Take out his daughter’s heart to cover up a sex crime.”
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