by J C Fuller
Chapter 12
Lane downloaded the pictures from Philip’s phone and began to scrutinize them on her computer screen, her stomach squirming with each scroll of the mouse. A few photos in and already her pallor was turning a greenish-white, her face slowly scrunching up into a permanent ‘ewwww’ expression as a purely imagined stench seemed to fill her office. She took a deep breath and forced herself to click on the next picture, thankful she decided to skip breakfast.
Caleb, entering with a half-eaten sandwich in hand, gave the door jamb a brief rap on his way in, before standing behind her. He had started to ask her what she was working on and stopped mid-chew. Through the reflection in the window, Lane could tell he’d just lost his appetite.
“You probably don’t want to see these,” Lane warned a bit late, scrolling to the next picture.
“I’ve seen a dead body before,” Caleb said nonchalantly, though his face said something else. Lane doubted he’d seen one in this condition before.
“Hot sun, a couple days of exposure, insect activity. It’s not pretty, is it?”
“She was though. At least, that’s what people were saying about her last night.” Caleb threw the remains of his sandwich in the small trash can beside Lane’s desk.
“They say anything else?” She scrolled to another picture. This one was a close up of Janie’s bloated face. Caleb sat himself down in the chair by Lane’s desk, facing away from the computer monitor, looking slightly nausea.
“Well, she hadn’t been back to the island since her sister died last year. Even Cougar Carter didn’t know she was coming till she showed up on her doorstep.”
Lane shook her head musingly. “I wonder why she didn’t tell anyone she was coming to the island? Granted, she was on a work assignment, but she’d planned on being around for a few days. She was bound to run into someone she knew, the island being the size it is. Why not let them know she was coming for a visit, work or not?” Lane clicked on the next picture and paused, waiting for Caleb to provide an answer.
“Beats me.” Caleb shrugged his shoulders, not having a clue and not particularly caring.
Lane leaned in, her finger hovering over the roller.
“What is that?”
Caleb twisted around, angling his neck so he could see the screen.
“High up on the wrist? Hard to tell.” He sat back, looking up at the ceiling, trying to forget the image.
Lane leaned in further, squinting at the screen. She could barely make it out.
“It looks like prayer beads.” She leaned back. “Maybe a beaded bracelet?”
Caleb took another quick peek, his eyes not lingering on the photo.
“A rosary? It’s hard to tell with it tucked under her sleeve.”
“I think it’s a bracelet. Look, it’s got a D carved into one of the beads.”
Caleb decided to take her word for it and stared at his shoes instead, waiting for the roll of nausea to pass. He was about to lose what little lunch he had.
“Can I ask a question?” Caleb stood up, deciding he’d rather be sitting at his desk than looking at photos of a dead corpse.
“Sure.”
“Why are you looking at these?”
“What do you mean?” Lane looked up at her deputy confused.
“Well, it was a climbing accident, right?”
“It would appear so,” she answered, not sounding quite convinced.
“You think it’s not?” Caleb looked down at her, mild surprise in his eyes. He’d caught the doubt in her voice.
Lane shrugged her shoulders. “Just making sure.” She gave him an innocent smile.
“Guess that’s why you’re the boss.” Caleb started to walk out, but abruptly turned in the doorway, having remembered why he had come into her office to begin with. “By the way, just finished cataloguing and bagging everything in her backpack.”
“What was in it?” Lane looked over at her deputy, nodding for him to sit back down. He did, slouching down into the seat.
“Like, you want to know everything?” he asked, his tone sullen. Lane said nothing in return, glowering at him till he sat up straight. “Fine.” Caleb abruptly crossed his arms and heaved his shoulders in annoyance before looking up in recollection and reciting.
“One bag of beef jerky, three granola bars, a bottle of Gatorade, a used wrapper which once contained mixed nuts. One red hoodie in size medium, one red water bottle filled with water. In the front pocket, I found a cell phone, small wallet, and a set of keys. I’m guessing her car and house keys.” Caleb leaned forward, preemptively answering Lane’s next question. “And yes, the phone was password protected. It’s gonna have to go to the mainland.” He leaned back and continued, “The wallet held her driver’s license, three credit cards, and a total of five bucks in one-dollar bills. Coin purse on the side held three quarters, two dimes, and four pennies.”
“That all seems pretty normal,” Lane noted, disappointed at his findings.
“Yup. Normal and boring.” Caleb stood up and slapped the door jamb on his way out, heading back to his desk where he sat down and brought up a tv streaming service on his phone. It appeared to be another episode of “Cops”.
Lane returned to the photos, clicking on the next one. It was a shot of Janie’s arms and hands, each laying palm up straight by her side. The beaded bracelet was a little easier to see, though something didn’t look right. Lane sat back in her seat, her head tilted to the side, contemplating the photo.
Is that how a body would land? She tried to envision falling backwards. She imagined herself trying to grab at the cliff’s edge. But what if her hands were full? Clutching something? Like a camera to her chest? Lane looked at the palm of the girl’s hands. They were a pale blue, bloated, and clean. Lane’s thoughts went back to the camera she’d found upstream and the bloodied neck strap. Where had the blood come from? If there was no blood on her palms, it would mean she wasn’t holding the camera by the strap. Lane quickly clicked back a few more pictures, finding a side shot of the body. She could see where blood had seeped down and stained the rock under Janie’s head and neck. There was no doubt.
“She had to be wearing it.”
Chapter 13
“Lane, what are you doing?” Philip asked sternly, holding the door open to the ferry’s observation deck.
“Whatever do you mean?” Lane opened the opposite door, walking through it instead.
“You’re trying to make this into a murder case.” Philip let the door swing shut behind him, following close on her heels.
“There’s no trying about it, Phil. It IS a murder case.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You haven’t even heard what the coroner has to say yet.”
Lane tossed her head side to side and amended, “Potential murder investigation, then.
He eyed her for a minute, debating on whether or not he should say what was on his mind. After the close call they shared together last spring, Philip and Lane had become close, but he still had to choose his words wisely. She could be very touchy when it came to her job.
“Go ahead. Spit it out.” Lane could tell he was mulling his words over.
“I think you’re bored.”
“What?”
Philip smile apologetically. “I…think you’re bored. You’re looking for something to do.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Lane walked over to the ferry’s green railing, turning her back on him and thus avoiding his eye contact.
“I don’t think so. It’s been six months since anything has happened on the island and what did happen, was pretty dang exciting…. if not incredibly scary.” Philip paused again, debating if he should continue. “Take last Tuesday at the bowling alley. You should have seen your face when they called you out to the fight. You were like a pyromaniac who was handed a match.” Philip followed her over and leaned up against the railing trying to catch her eye.
“Gee, you say the nicest things.” She gave him a frustrated scowl, and then ad
ded, “Alright. I admit it.” She paused, taking in the ocean view before turning her gaze to him. “It’s not been very exciting lately. But I’m not creating a murder out of nothing. There are indicators, Phil.”
Philip thought the comment over. She had him wondering again. She did that to him.
“I have a theory then.” Philip pulled down his baseball cap, trying to block the brisk wind and ocean spray blowing against his face.
“Let’s hear it.” Lane herself, closed her eyes, and took in a deep cleansing breath of sea air, enjoying the feel of the cold mist against her skin.
“She may have committed suicide.” Philip held up his hand, arresting Lane’s wide-eyed protest. “You made a good point about the way the body was found. Her hands posed palm up, her arms stretched straight out to her sides. What if, she simply turned her back to the cliff and let herself fall backwards? After all, it’s the anniversary of the death of her sister. She tried to not let anyone know she was coming to the island. Not even Sue, right? Maybe she was overcome with memories and emotions and took a backwards leap.”
“Did she seem suicidal when you saw her? Give you any indication she was?” Lane looked at Philip, an almost annoyed tone in her voice.
“Admittedly, no.”
“And why stay at Sue’s house? Why not stay in the park and camp?”
“Maybe she wanted to say good-bye? Maybe she wanted to talk to somebody?” Philip cocked his head to the side. “Maybe she was looking for a reason not to jump?”
Lane shook her head stubbornly.
“Suicide also wouldn’t explain someone taking the camera from around her neck.”
“Well, that depends. Could have been someone who came upon her and thought the camera might tell them what happened.”
“So, they smash it against the rocks and steal the storage card?” Lane, putting her elbows on the top rung, leaned her back against the green railing so she could face Philip, “Our killer…”
“If there is one,” Philip amended.
Lane ignored him and continued on.
“Throws or pushes Janie off the cliff. Possibly taking her by surprise. Then runs down to her body, grabs the camera, smashes it against the rocks, and steals the storage card. They wouldn’t take the camera with them. Too bulky to hold with the bloody neck strap removed.”
“IF, you’re right. It most likely was someone she knew,” Philip raised his voice, the ferry suddenly blasting its horn, signaling their arrival
“Why do you say that?”
“The way they posed the body. They couldn’t cross her arms across her chest. Would have been an obvious clue to someone messing with her corpse. So, they did the next best thing. They put her in a peaceful position. Palms up.”
Lane chewed on the theory, then offered one of her own.
“I think she was clutching the camera. They had to move her arms out of the way to grab it and that’s how her arms fell to her side.”
Walking towards the doors, Philip grunted, liking her idea better.
“Still think I’m imagining a murder?” Lane, not waiting for his answer, opened the door for Philip, letting him walk through first.
Chapter 14
Coroner Ralph Ames was interrupted by a loud, repetitive noise. Tearing his eyes from his papers with great annoyance, the coroner glanced up to find before him, an outstretched arm holding a tray of Oreo cookies. Instantly his eyes brightened, and a smile touched his stern face, even before looking up to discover he knew the bearer.
“Sheriff Lane!” Coroner Ames went to stand, happily taking the offered cookie tray and pointing his guests to the chairs sitting in front of his desk. He’d already peeled back the plastic opening before they had sat down, a cookie in hand at the ready. “Hello, Phil! Is it one o’clock already?”
“It’s actually a few minutes after. Sorry we’re late,” Lane said causally, giving a glare of warning in Philip’s direction. They had argued on the way over, debating on which shortcut to take to avoid traffic. Lane had made the wrong choice and Philip was still being smug about it.
“Oh, that’s alright.” He popped a whole Oreo into his mouth and sat down. “I was just reviewing my preliminary notes on your climber.” He picked up his papers and gave Lane an expectant look. “I suppose you’d like to take notes? Ready?”
“Ready.” Lane had her faithful leather notepad and pen posed.
The thin coroner nodded and began to read.
“Time of death, by my best guess, was Thursday morning between nine and eleven. No weapon wounds to speak of. Little to no abrasions or deep bruising on her hands and face. In all honesty, there’s not much to glean from the body. Now, if this was indeed an accidental fall…”
“Is that what it looks like to you?” Philip leaned in, grabbing an Oreo from the plastic carton.
“On the surface, I’d say yes. Falls are hard to determine as a general rule. It’s difficult to tell if a tumble was on purpose or accidental. And it’s extremely hard to determine if someone was actually pushed.”
“So, no chance she was a jumper?” Philip separated the cookie in two and licked the white icing. Lane gave him a disapproving stare. He wasn’t quite sure if it was from the jumper suggestion or the way he was eating the cookie. Probably both.
“It’s not likely. The damaged to her body was in the upper half. Her head, spine, rib cage. If she’d jumped off the cliff feet first, she’d have had extensive damage to her lower extremities. On the other hand, her fingernails were unbroken, so no evidence of her grabbing at the cliff wall or terrain on her way down.” The coroner tilted his head towards Philip. “Which could be taken into consideration as support towards a jump.” The coroner held his handwritten notes upright in front of him, giving them a good smack on the desk, before handing them to Lane. “But then again, she died of a heart attack before she’d even hit the ground.”
“Did she have a heart condition?” Lane asked surprised, browsing the coroner’s notes.
“Heart was healthy. It’s common in high fall victims to experience cardiac or aortic ruptures on the way down.”
“Considering it was almost a six-hundred-foot drop. I guess that’s not surprising,” Philip ventured.
“And a blessing. Upon impact, her ribs shattered piercing her lungs. Along with breaking her spine and fracturing her skull. She would have suffered and bled out otherwise.”
“So, nothing to indicate she was pushed versus simply falling from the cliff?” Lane handed the notes over to Philip to review.
“There was no alcohol in her system and the toxicology test came back clean. She wasn’t under the influence of anything which might have caused her to lose balance. Of course, that could be a point in either camp.” He popped another cookie in his mouth and continued, “I was hoping that’s where you two could help me. I heard both of you were there when she was found? Find any evidence leading to a possible suggestion of homicide?”
“We discovered two granola bars at the top of the cliff along with her belongings. Seems to indicate she wasn’t alone.” Philip looked up, placing the preliminary notes on the corner of the coroner’s desk.
“But we also know she bought a box of granola bars, so she may have eaten both. We’re having them tested for DNA.” Lane smiled apologetically as Philip looked at her in surprise.
“We also found multiple sets of footprints on the trail up, which also indicates she might have been followed.” Philip turned back to the coroner.
“However, this was right before Labor Day weekend. I’m sure there were a lot of other climbers who might have simply been on the same trail for a while,” Lane countered.
Philip’s forehead wrinkled and he shook his head disagreeing.
“Not necessarily. Most Labor Day visitors are day campers or water bugs, as I call them. They’re there for kayaking, whale watching, day fishing. That type of thing. Weekend climbers usually take the trails on the west side of The Mole Hill. More scenic views of the harbor and an easier, safer
climb. The only real reason someone would take the east trail is if they wanted to see the mountain goats. And most people aren’t really aware we even have them. It’s not something we’ve advertised heavily for various reasons.”
“Did you find any footprints on top of the cliff? Signs of a struggle?” The coroner managed to squeeze his question in before Lane could launch a counter comment.
“No. It’s solid rock up there.”
“And don’t forget, you said the trampled ferns and moss you found could easily be explained away by mountain goats grazing,” Lane tried to add casually, while avoiding Philip’s eyes.
Coroner Ames watched the two curiously.
“So, nothing that would prevent me from ruling this as an accidental death?” Coroner Ames directed his question to Lane. He sensed she was holding something back. He became sure of the fact, when Philip bumped her arm, encouraging her to speak.
“She was a photographer…,” Lane started.
Coroner Ames held up his hand and asked a question. “Could she have been taking a selfie and fallen?”
“We don’t think so,” Philip answered for her.
The thin coroner shook his head slowly. “Happened in Yosemite. Silly way to die.” He made some notes, quickly jotting down the new suggestion.
Lane continued, warning Philip to stay quiet until she finished talking.
“I found her camera a few feet away from the point of impact, in the middle of a running creek.”
“She dropped the camera?” the coroner asked, his eyes still on his paper, his other hand reaching for an Oreo.
“I don’t believe—,” her next words were interrupted by Philip’s hurried explanation.
“Originally, we thought it had been flung from her hands, landing several feet away,” Philip added stubbornly, stumped to why Lane was suddenly taking the accidental route.
Lane spoke up, giving Philip a light elbow to the ribs.
“However, the camera was missing the memory card and there was blood on the neck strap.”
