Sam glanced at Raynor from the corner of his eye, trying to judge the other man’s current state of mind. He was affected but not faint. Good.
Sam turned his attention back to the woman. She was nude, her skin much too pale, all vibrancy drawn from it. Her features were neat, symmetrical. Her lips quirked in the faintest of smiles—probably her most common expression—and blue. Her nose was pert, small, set below wide-set eyes. Red marred her chin and her left cheek. The abrasions seemed to echo the ones Cici wore, and the thought caused a quiver of unease to ripple down Sam’s spine.
Patti was a pretty woman with shoulder-length brown hair and trim shoulders. Sam let his gaze dip down, reviewing her for signs of a struggle or wounds. Her skin bore bruises but no open wounds.
Senseless. Patti’s death was the responsibility of some shadowy man only Cici currently knew about, but, already, the pain from her demise rippled out to Patti’s son and husband and into the community. Sam wiggled his fingers, a long-standing trick to keep from balling his hands into fists.
If the last year taught him anything, Cici would continue to have visions and dreams until the culprit was found. And Sam planned to find him—fast. So Cici wouldn’t have to suffer more.
That was damn cold comfort.
Benson began his report, snapping Sam out of his reverie. “We’ve run blood and I have a preliminary toxicology report I wanted to mention.”
“Yeah?” Sam asked.
“Mmm. She had epinephrine in her system. I’ll show you the mark on her thigh when we get there.”
“She’s allergic to cats,” Sam said. “And we think one might have been involved with her drowning.”
Benson pulled off a glove and picked up a small stack of papers. He handed them to Sam, who handed them to Raynor.
“It’s his case,” Sam said.
Benson nodded, looking chagrined. “Sorry. Right, well. The epinephrine use makes sense if she was allergic to cats. What doesn’t make sense is the volume of diphenhydramine in her system.”
He pointed to a number on the printout.
“What name would I know the drug by?” Sam asked.
“Benadryl,” Benson said.
Raynor frowned. “That’s high?”
“Yes.”
Sam grunted in agreement. “The volume is strange. Unless she took it because the EPI pen didn’t work?”
Benson shook his head. “Because she wasn’t in the water long, her cells didn’t undergo lysis. Some of the tissues swelled in her nasal and sinus cavities, or were already swollen from exposure or a histamine reaction. I’d expect tissue damage with a submersion. But the deceased’s mouth, lips and tongue didn’t swell much, which leads me to believe the epinephrine worked as it was supposed to. And that’s part of why I had this tox report ready for you. I had a hunch about the epinephrine.”
Sam mulled over Benson’s words. He brought out the baggie with the crushed camera. He asked, “Can your team run this? It’s taken from the victim’s home. And also the water sample from the rain barrel that Raynor collected.”
“Sure,” Benson said. “You need the results now?”
“Sooner than,” Sam concurred.
Benson picked up his phone and dialed an extension. “Lainey, can you pick up some samples? It’s for the Urlich case.”
He said thanks and disconnected. A moment later, a short brunette in a lab coat entered the room. She looked around expectantly, and Sam handed over the bagged camera. “We found this today.”
“Got it,” Lainey said. “I’ll start on this once I get through my other cases.”
“How many?” Sam asked.
Lainey shrugged. “There’s always too many.”
“Any kind of an estimate on timeframe?” Sam asked. Sure, he knew the question frustrated the staff, but he needed to get answers—which Lainey and Benson understood all too well.
“I’ll shoot for preliminary data by end-of-day tomorrow.”
Sam raised his eyebrows, thankful for the speedy turnaround.
“That would be amazing. Thanks,” Sam said.
Lainey nodded, muttering something about long nights and lots of coffee as she exited the room.
Benson snapped on a new set of gloves and refocused on the body.
“There is some bruising to the mouth and nose, which could be from the CPR administered. No further bruising to the neck or upper torso, which I wouldn’t expect based on where and how you found the body. Oh, there is a contusion to the scalp. New, it may have formed after death.
“There are scratches and bruising on the hands and arms. They appear to be defensive wounds. As if she was trying to hold off an attacker.” Benson continued to narrate his findings, both for his digital log and for Sam’s and Raynor’s benefit.
Benson picked up her wrist, his glove-covered finger tracing a slight discoloration around the fine bones there. “See these contusions? It’s possible someone held her hands or…” He hesitated.
“Or?” Sam prompted, staring at Patti’s fragile, pale skin. She was a small woman, and if the man was large, as Cici believed, he would have been able to overpower her with his size.
“It’s possible her hands were tied.”
Sam tensed. That detail would trigger the forensics team to search for evidence of an intruder, which, up until now, was not part of the working theory on Patti Urlich’s death. That detail also backed up Cici’s assertion about a big male entering the home and overpowering Patti—a reality Sam didn’t like at all.
Sure, forensic techs appeared at the scene originally and took samples, but if the investigation pointed toward murder, Cooper became the most likely suspect. Now, Benson was turning up information that created a different scenario—one of confinement and murder by another suspect.
“She wasn’t when we found her,” Raynor said, his tone on the verge of panic.
Both Sam and the pathologist faced him. Raynor gawped, trying to draw a breath. “I thought…we thought…no sign of a break-in, a woman spilled out on the floor, the water in the rain barrel…” Raynor’s eyes were wide and worried as they latched on to Sam’s.
“Maybe Cooper did it on purpose,” Raynor said. “To get rid of his wife.”
“Let’s get someone to the house to search for the ties,” Sam said. “And look for the Benadryl and the used EPI pen Cooper mentioned.”
Raynor was already on his phone, relaying Sam’s request. “And we’ll need Cooper and Jay to move out of the place for a few days,” Raynor added. He ended the call but seemed lost in thought.
“Some details come out in the autopsy that aren’t visible at the crime scene, it happens,” Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And while the working theory of a jealous or even murderous husband is a good, solid supposition, I’d prefer to gather as much information as possible so we don’t have to speculate.”
Benson had tactfully returned his attention to the body. Raynor glanced at the pathologist, his neck and cheeks an uncomfortable red, before he nodded.
“I’d say the autopsy has given us more to work with,” Sam said, striving to keep his tone even and diplomatic. He caught Benson’s faint frown as he bent back over the body.
“Here’s the site of the epinephrine injection.” Benson pointed to the fattiest part of Patti’s trim thigh.
“Can you tell us when she took the shot?”
“No. Not until I do more testing on her blood.”
“We can guess that she saw the cat, interacted with it, maybe touched it, but was able to take her shot,” Sam said.
“But the cat was still in the garage when we were there today. Which meant it was there yesterday, when she was in the garage,” Raynor said. “And if the cat fell into the barrel and Patti tried to get it out…” He looked at Benson then at Sam. “Maybe that’s why she took the Benadryl?”
Sam was already shaking his head, but Benson beat him to the answer. “Benadryl is slower to absorb into the bloodstream because it is an oral capsule. And the amoun
t is high—but the testing for this particular drug is neither quick nor easy. The half-life is just two to nine hours, which means, depending on when she took the pills, it may already be working its way out of her system, especially if she took the medication before she went to scoop out the cat.”
“Which messes up the timeline,” Raynor said. He muttered a curse.
Sam understood. This was the part of an investigation that could prove frustrating—and it’s why he gathered information before attempting to build out a timeline.
Benson’s glove-covered fingers touched Patti’s protruding hip bones. “Severe contusions to the hips, which we assume is where she got caught on the barrel. Again, consistent with the findings.” Benson parted her legs and began to comment on what he observed.
“Bruising near the pubis and on the upper part of the inner thigh.”
Sam tensed. “What about her vaginal walls?” he asked.
Benson’s round glasses glinted when he looked up. “Are you concerned about sexual assault?”
“It’s a working theory based on those defensive wounds on her hands and arms,” Sam said.
Raynor jangled some loose change in his pocket.
“We’d need a rape kit, then, to do more thorough testing.” The pathologist looked up. “But I will point out her jeans were unsnapped and the zipper halfway down. That could, of course, come from attempting to wiggle out of the rain barrel.”
Sam clenched his jaw and gave a short nod, unhappy that Cici’s comments made more sense the longer he was in the autopsy. Not that he didn’t believe her—he just didn’t want her vision to be true.
“Okay, good. But I want the testing done.”
Benson removed his gloves and made some notations on his computer. “I’ll let you know when we get the results from the newest samples and the rape kit.”
“Can you give me a best guess as to what happened?” Sam asked.
Benson surveyed the body. “We need to open her up, but from what I’ve seen so far, none of the information is logical. I suppose she could have OD’ed on Benadryl and fallen into the barrel. She might have become too sleepy to pull herself back out, but that’s inconsistent with trying to wiggle out of the barrel and those bruises on her wrists.”
“Thanks, Benson.”
“You know it. I’m going to start the internal autopsy now.”
He pulled out another clean pair of gloves and slipped them on before he picked up his scalpel. The scrape of metal on metal caused Raynor to glance upward. He rocked back on his heels, his face turning a shade darker than puce.
Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “We can go.”
“Yes, please,” Raynor said.
He and Sam exited the room and headed down the hall. “It gets easier,” he said.
Raynor wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes pleading. “Really?”
Sam shook his head. “Not really. I always hated that part.”
12
Sam
Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women. ― Maya Angelou
* * *
Sam wrapped Cici in his arms when he walked into her office later that afternoon.
“The pathologist believes her hands were bound,” he said, his lips moving against her hair. “We’re hoping to find some fibers or something, but so far, no such luck. Just the indents that left bruises on her wrists, some rawness that suggests a struggle, all of which helps to corroborate your belief Patti was murdered. And we’re testing Jay’s stuffed animal for a white substance.”
Sam’s final words triggered a deep shudder. “When will you know what it is?”
“The residue on the toy? Couple of days. A tech stopped by on his way from Taos and bagged it. Should be at OMI by now.”
“Poor Jay. Losing his mom and his favorite toy.” She gripped Sam tighter. “Can we go home? I want to love on my dogs.”
“Yep,” Sam said.
He clasped her hand and led her from the church, only releasing her so Cici could lock up. Both she and Sam remained quiet as he drove. The dogs greeted them at the door with happy yips. Cici pet them for a few minutes before she let them outside and then filled their food bowls. She and Sam met in the kitchen once she let the dogs back inside. He’d already pulled out a beer for himself.
“Want one?”
“Yes. As long as I don’t take the pain medication, I shouldn’t have a problem.”
“How’s the ankle?”
“Better than it was.”
A quick glance told him she wasn’t going to elaborate so he didn’t push her on the choice to stop the pain meds. He grabbed her a glass and popped the cap. Cici hobbled to her couch. After both she and Sam sipped their drinks, she faced him, her gaze expectant.
Sam settled back against the cushions. “Benson said she wasn’t but…I think you’re right. Her pants were unzipped. He wanted to rape her.”
“He planned to,” Cici said with conviction.
Sam tapped his finger on the side of his beer glass, his knee jittering up and down. That had been one of his worst fears when Cici was out on the mesa—what the ruthless Bratva would do to her body. He forced himself to breathe through the rage building. She was safe, and he was sitting with her.
“I guess…I guess that’s something,” she said, her voice soft. “That he didn’t hurt her that way.”
“Walk me through your vision?” Sam asked.
Sam hated asking her to relive these moments but he needed the information she could provide.
“I was going to write it down, but I just couldn’t do that.” She closed her eyes. “When Patti dropped off Jay at school in the morning, I think the cat ran into their house through the open garage door. Patti found it after Cooper left to pick up Jay. She carried it outside.”
“Through which door?” Sam asked.
Cici squinted as she sought the memory. “The front door. It was the closest.” At Sam’s nod, she continued. “There’s something about the cat, Sam. I don’t understand the connection, but Aci kept trying to get my attention whenever it came up. I mean, when we were at the Urlichs’ house.”
“And we let it go,” Sam grumbled. At the time, it seemed the reasonable thing to do. But now…damn, he wished he’d listened to her. “All right. So the cat’s more than a coincidence?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand the connection.” She shook her head as a scowl formed, tugging at her brow.
“I’m not sure he wanted Patti per se.” Cici struggled for the right words. “She was there, vulnerable, available.” One thick shudder rolled through her body. “That’s so horrible.”
“But also fairly common with rapists.” Sam tilted his head a little as if correcting his thought process. “Maybe I should say criminals.”
They sat in silence. Mona stuck her head in Cici’s lap, and she pet the dog’s silky ears. Rodolpho picked up his leonine head from his bed and harrumphed, standing, shaking and coming to Cici’s other side, clearly jealous of his sister’s attention.
“He pushed open the door as she headed toward the kitchen—I’m not sure if it didn’t latch or she didn’t lock it. Either way, she didn’t hear him come in behind her. She’d grabbed her EPI-pen and injected herself, then set the injector on the counter. I looked it up…you have to take the empty cartridges to the hospital or a doctor’s office to dispose of them properly. Like a needle.”
“Good to know. I didn’t see one on the counter when we were at the Urlichs’ house, did you?”
“No. And Cooper mentioned one was missing.”
“Mmm. We’ll have to look into that. What happened next?” Sam asked.
“She washed her hands.” Cici swallowed. “As she dried them, he lunged at her.”
Which meant Sam needed to return to the Urlich house, look in the kitchen again. Unfortunately, the house had been lived in and used since then, making the likelihood of finding something—let alone some
thing uncontaminated—unlikely.
Cici fumbled for her glass and took a long, deep draw. Sam remained quiet, letting her regain her composure. She licked the light foam from her upper lip.
“The Benadryl was in his pocket. He forced open her jaw. Liquid. He forced it down Patti’s throat. She fought.”
“Where was this?”
Cici shrugged. “I don’t know. Near the bathroom, maybe? In the kitchen? I’m not sure. It’s a bit blurry—like when YouTube doesn’t load all the way.”
Sam nodded. Pixelated, a bit grainy.
Cici wrapped her palms around her elbows, holding herself in a hug. “She gagged and choked, trying to scream. I think…I think she used Jay’s stuffed cat to wipe at her mouth.” Cici rubbed her fingers. “No, that’s not right. The stuffy was involved, though.”
“So, this isn’t a clear, straightforward image you could follow—like an old movie or something?” Sam asked.
Cici shook her head. “I have some longer sequences, but some are just…I don’t know…impressions. Or snippets of what happened.”
Cici’s twin used to be Sam’s best friend. He knew she would never hurt Cici intentionally, but he also knew she was more stubborn than a ticked-off mule. She’d no doubt forced as much into Cici’s mind as possible. For Cici, though, those details became jumbled, difficult to understand and tease apart.
“So liquid Benadryl. Smart. It’ll absorb faster in the stomach, thus entering the bloodstream more quickly.”
Cici nodded. “He had pills, too.”
Sam grunted. “He wanted her knocked out.”
“I think so, yes. Best I can tell, Patti broke free and ran to the nearest door—I think she made it into the backyard, but the guy caught up. Dragged her back in. She struggled. He shoved pills into her mouth, covered her face with his hand so she couldn’t spit them out.”
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