Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9)

by Laura Griffin

  “All checked in, Dr. Quinn.”

  Tara followed the doctor through the spacious lobby and down a sloping corridor where she stopped at a door and swiped her ID against a keypad. The door slid open, and they stepped into a wall of cold air.

  “I’m in the Bones Unit,” she told Tara over her shoulder. “They call it the Crypt because it’s so chilly.”

  Another swipe of her ID, and she stepped through a door.

  The temperature wasn’t the only reason they called it the Crypt. The room was filled with stainless-steel tables. On each was a set of bones.

  “You’re a forensic odontologist?” Tara glanced at the doctor.

  “Forensic anthropologist,” she said, slipping into a lab coat. “I deal with the whole skeleton, not only the teeth. Come on back here and we’ll have a look. I’ve been working on her since this morning.”

  Tara darted a look at the tables as she passed by. On some were full skeletons, on others just a few small bones no bigger than twigs. Atop one of the tables was a lone skull. Counters and stainless-steel sinks lined the wall. The room smelled like formaldehyde, and Tara stifled a shudder.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess. It’s our high season. We’ve been inundated with cases since November.”

  Tara followed the woman into a darkened room, where she switched on a light. Tara had braced herself for a corpse, but on the table in the center of the room was a microscope.

  “Why November?” Tara asked.

  The doctor picked up a large manila envelope from the counter. “Deer season.”

  Tara must have looked blank.

  “Hunters are a forensic anthropologist’s best friend,” she explained. “See, in cities, bodies tend to be found quickly, and they typically go to the medical examiner. In rural settings, not so much. I get the cases where more time has elapsed, remains that have been discovered weeks or months or even years later. Remains that have been buried or otherwise hidden by nature. Around here, skeletonized remains are often discovered by hunters in the autumn and winter. Nature helps, too. When leaves fall, that increases visibility in the brush. So November to February is our busy time, but right now we’re especially slammed because Walt’s on medical leave.”

  “In that case, thanks for getting to this so quickly.”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “Mia, our DNA specialist, said it’s top priority. I think Greenwood called her.”

  The doctor pulled an X-ray from the envelope and clipped it to a light panel, which she then switched on to illuminate the film. Tara relaxed a bit. She could look at X-rays all day long. Autopsies were tougher to stomach.

  “These are the dental records,” she said. Then she tapped a few keys on a notebook computer, and a digitized X-ray popped up on the screen. “And these are the films Greenwood sent me for comparison. As you can see, it’s a match.”

  A match.

  The mutilated body in the woods belonged to Catalina Reyes, forty-two, former candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives. She’d been a controversial figure from the start of her political career, and her FBI file included death threats made within the last eighteen months.

  The Bureau was officially involved now, even if it didn’t turn out to be a hate crime.

  Tara studied the skull X-ray and then the dental X-rays, looking for telltale similarities. But to her untrained eye, it could have been anyone.

  “Actually, I’m not seeing it,” Tara said. “You’re going to have to help me out here, Doctor.”

  “Call me Kelsey.” She pointed at the computer screen with her pen. “See the maxillary second molar here? It tilts inward, just as you see on this dental X-ray. Also note the slight malocclusion. She’d had orthodontic treatment, but either they didn’t correct it completely or maybe she didn’t wear her retainer.”

  Tara stared at the dental X-ray, thinking of Catalina—Catie to her friends, probably—as a teenager in braces. She studied the X-ray Dr. Greenwood had taken of the skull.

  “What’s that in her throat?” Tara asked.

  “A tooth.”

  Tara looked at her.

  “Her right first molar was knocked out around the time of death. Same with her second premolar. See here?” She pointed at a gap where a tooth should have been. “The molar she swallowed. The premolar’s still missing. It was the only tooth she had with a filling, which is a very distinguishing characteristic. So that might explain Dr. Greenwood’s reluctance to make a positive ID using dental records alone.”

  Anger tightened Tara’s shoulders as she gazed at the X-ray and imagined the extreme violence of the attack. “If she swallowed her tooth,” Tara said, “that suggests she was alive at the time she was struck, right?”

  “That’s what it looks like to me. Which would indicate she resisted her attacker, at least at first.” Kelsey tapped the keyboard and brought up another autopsy X-ray, this one showing a hand and arm. “Approximately half the bones in the human body are found in the hands and feet, and I always pay close attention to the hands. They tell a story. See her wrist here? Fractured scaphoid. Also, her fifth metacarpal is broken, an injury known as a boxer’s fracture. Another indication of a struggle.”

  So she’d fought hard. Good for her. “You think maybe she bit him?” Tara asked.

  “I hope.” Kelsey’s gaze met hers. “You’re thinking of DNA?”

  “Yes. Where’s the tooth she swallowed?”

  “At our DNA lab. I can tell you there was blood on it, but whether it belonged to the victim or her attacker, I couldn’t say. Our DNA specialist will have those results soon.”

  “I’ll have what soon?”

  They both looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. Petite build, lab coat, strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Mia. Speak of the devil.” Kelsey made introductions as Tara looked the woman over. The name embroidered on her lab coat said DR. VOSS, but Tara thought she looked young to be a doctor. Maybe it was the freckles.

  “Dr. Greenwood speaks highly of you,” Tara said, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

  The DNA expert smiled. “He said this case is top priority. I’m working on it now, as a matter of fact. That shard of glass is interesting.”

  “Interesting how?”

  “It’s not your typical glass. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. I didn’t find any DNA on it—besides the victim’s—but I’ve sent it to one of our trace evidence examiners, who should be able to tell us more.” She turned to Kelsey. “I just stopped by to let you know I’m working on that tooth now. Any word from Brooke on the other one?”

  Kelsey glanced at Tara. “We sent one of our crime-scene techs to Silver Springs Park hoping to recover that missing premolar. It had a filling in it, according to dental records, so she went out there with a metal detector.” Kelsey looked at her colleague. “No luck, though. So for now, we just have the one tooth.”

  “Well, one is better than none.” Mia looked at Tara. “If I get anything useful, you’ll hear from me.”

  As she left, Tara gave her a business card.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kelsey said when Mia was gone.

  Tara lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “She’s young but very good. No stone unturned,” Kelsey said. “And her husband’s a homicide cop, so she thinks like an investigator.”

  Tara didn’t say anything, but she felt encouraged as Kelsey turned her attention back to the X-ray on the screen.

  “Okay, where were we?” Kelsey continued. “The victim’s hands. We have the fractured scaphoid, the broken metacarpal.” Another X-ray flashed onto the screen. “What I don’t see are any parry wounds. Defensive wounds made by a knife to the hands or arms. By the time the knife was used, she was likely already dead.”

  Thank God. “Greenwood concluded strangulation,” Tara said. “Can you tell if it was manual?”

  “He found no sign of ligature marks. You’ll notice the broken hyoid bone.” She pointed t
o a tiny bone fragment near what looked like the windpipe. “In about a third of strangulation cases I see, the hyoid is broken.”

  Tara took a deep breath, blew it out. “Tell me about the knife injuries.”

  She tapped her keyboard again and pulled up two images side by side: the torso and the pelvis. “A deep-penetrating wound to the sternum. See where it cut the bone here?” Kelsey pointed near one of the upper ribs. “The knife came all the way down, nicking lumbar three at the base of the spine.”

  Tara clenched her teeth, visualizing the attack. “Any chance of figuring out what kind of knife was used?”

  “A very good chance. Our tool-marks examiner, Travis Cullen, is one of the best in the world. He’s working on it now. He said he’d compare his findings to the Jane Doe from November.”

  Tara looked at her. “November?”

  “We have some un-ID’d remains here from Cypress County.”

  “Same MO?”

  “Hard to say. By the time I got involved there wasn’t a lot to work with.”

  “But she hasn’t been identified?”

  “Just the Big Four,” Kelsey said. “Age, sex, race, and stature. I entered my findings into the missing-persons database, along with the DNA profile. No hits yet.” She paused. “Would you like to see her?”

  THE BONES WERE clean and neatly arranged in their natural order in a long, flat drawer at the back of the osteology lab.

  “She came in on opening weekend. Deer season,” the doctor clarified. “A hunter found her while he was looking for his dog. I was really glad to be called in.”

  “Why?” Tara gazed down at the bones, brownish gray against the white parchment paper lining the drawer.

  “These small-county coroners, they have good intentions,” Kelsey said, “but they really don’t have the experience to interpret bones. Sometimes they can’t even tell whether we’re dealing with animal or human remains, especially if we only recover a femur or a tibia, something like that. Animal bones can easily be mistaken for human. Also, teeth marks made by scavenging predators can be mistaken for knife wounds. I’m always glad when they bring us in rather than waste time and resources investigating a presumed homicide that’s not really a homicide at all.”

  “But in this case you’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Kelsey opened the file she’d retrieved from her office. “First off, we’re dealing with a female; you can tell by the pelvis. Likely mixed race or Hispanic. I removed one of her molars.” She tipped the cranium back so Tara could see. “The cross section gives me an idea of dental maturation. That plus skeletal development—the stage of union of the epiphyses—gives me an age estimate of eighteen to twenty. She was around five feet three inches tall.”

  “Hispanic, you said?” Tara was thinking about everything she had in common with Catalina Reyes. So far, sex, race, and stature, three of the Big Four Kelsey had mentioned.

  “It can be hard to tell definitively. More and more, our society’s a melting pot. But her characteristics are consistent with Hispanic.”

  “What about time of death?”

  “That’s been tricky.” Kelsey turned to a computer terminal and tapped a few keys, pulling up a satellite map of East Texas. “She was found here, about thirty yards west of the Trinity River. Based on the debris in her hair, it was clear the body had been in water. They’d recently had a flood, which might account for that.”

  “Did you see the crime scene?”

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “No, unfortunately. Which is a shame. It’s always better if I can view the remains in situ. But in this case, the sheriff had everything zipped into a body bag and delivered here. What we got was partially skeletonized, no clothing or personal items. We removed the remaining soft tissue and cleaned the bones so they’d be easier to read.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s where it gets interesting. At first I was thinking she might have drowned in the flood. But it quickly became clear we were dealing with a homicide.”

  Tara’s stomach knotted. “Was she strangled?”

  “Broken hyoid again, fractured mandible. And also this.” She pointed to some scratches on the vertebrae. “Knife marks.”

  Tara leaned closer to look at the scratches. “You sure it’s not a scavenger?”

  “Absolutely. I examined these marks under a microscope, and it’s obvious they were made by a blade. As to what type of blade, that I don’t know.”

  “But your expert can tell me.”

  “That’s the hope. What I do know is that she’s a homicide. What I don’t know is her name.” Kelsey looked at her. “And that’s really the most critical piece of the puzzle.”

  “Most murder victims are killed by someone they know,” Tara said.

  “True.” Kelsey nodded. “And I know you’re concerned about justice. About prosecution and building a case.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but it’s also my job to think about the families. Someone’s missing this young woman—her mother, if no one else.” Kelsey rested her hand on the parchment and looked down at the bones. “I want to give her a name and send her home so her family can put her to rest.”

  WIND RATTLED AGAINST the motel room’s thin windowpanes as Tara sat at the table and searched the crime-scene footage for anything she’d overlooked.

  “I can’t watch anymore.” M.J. rested her head on her arms and sighed heavily. “How can you stand it?”

  Tara didn’t answer. Her gaze combed over the forest floor, the leaves and twigs and evidence markers, all illuminated by the glare of spotlights. She’d been over it and over it, looking for any clue that Ingram’s deputies might have missed. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again to watch the footage. As the cameraman tromped down the trail, the lens bounced, making Tara slightly dizzy.

  “I’m tapped,” M.J. said.

  Three hours ago, she’d shown up at Tara’s door with a veggie pizza and a six-pack, and they’d made a dent in both. But their energy was flagging.

  “So call it a night,” Tara said.

  Instead M.J. picked up the remote off the dresser and switched on the television. Tara turned her attention back to the computer.

  “Still nothing,” M.J. said, flipping channels.

  The news anchor’s voice filled the room, and Tara recognized the script. It was a replay of an earlier broadcast.

  “Think they don’t have it yet, or they don’t care?” M.J. asked.

  Tara listened for a moment as a meteorologist advised Houstonians to cover their plants tonight because of an expected freeze. Weather was still the top story.

  “They don’t have it,” Tara said. “But they will soon, believe me. Enjoy this while it lasts.”

  M.J. sank onto the bed and lay back.

  “Why don’t you turn in?” Tara tapped the keys, rewinding the footage so she could watch again.

  “What does Jacobs think?” M.J. looked at her.

  “Of what?”

  “Us. Of the fact that we got duped out of the autopsy by Sheriff Redneck.”

  “He didn’t say anything,” Tara said, which was about as demoralizing as it would have been if he’d reamed her out. He’d said nothing. Only silence.

  Tara had called him with the ID as soon as she’d left the Delphi Center. He hadn’t sounded surprised, and she’d wondered again if he knew more about the investigation than he was telling her.

  Of course he did. And he should—he was the special agent in charge of the Houston office.

  But she got the feeling she was being kept in the dark about some other important facts.

  “He said nothing?” M.J. sounded skeptical.

  “It was basically a pep talk. He said he needs us to be his eyes up here.”

  Actually, he’d said he needed Tara to be his eyes. And he hadn’t said it like a pep talk but more of a warning. I need you on top of this, Rushing. You’re my eyes up there.

  Because of the victim’s identity, the Bureau was all ov
er the case, but they hadn’t yet wrestled it away from the Cypress County Sheriff’s Department. Tara wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, only that Jacobs had a plan. He always did. And at the moment, that plan included keeping Tara and M.J. in Dunn’s Landing to essentially spy on local investigators. Maybe Jacobs wanted her to squeeze info out of them under the guise of cooperation before the feds took over. Tara planned to try.

  “What did he make of Jane Doe?”

  Tara glanced at M.J. on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She looked beat. “Hard to tell,” Tara said.

  “But he thinks it’s unrelated?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “What do you think?”

  Tara turned back to her computer screen, considering it. She watched again as one of Ingram’s clumsy deputies swept the camera over the fire pit near the victim’s body. She could hear the deputy’s labored breathing as he trudged around the site. Whoever Ingram had had filming this was way out of shape.

  “I want the forensics results,” Tara hedged.

  She had a nagging sense the murders were related. But hours of mulling it over had filled her with doubts.

  Two women had been killed, yes, and both deaths involved a knife. But what else did they really have in common besides geography?

  Catalina Reyes was wealthy and successful, a public figure. She’d been abducted from a jogging path and her body dumped twenty miles away. People had noticed her missing within hours of her disappearance.

  Jane Doe had been murdered last fall, probably dumped in or near the Trinity River. Four months after her death, her bones remained unidentified, even though a profile had been entered into various missing-persons databases, leading Tara to believe she was a transient or someone else on the fringes of society.

  “And what about Liam Wolfe?” M.J. asked.

  Tara’s nerves jumped at the sound of his name. “What about him?”

  “Well, he knew Catalina. And this second victim was discovered not far from his home, too. Coincidence, you think?”

  “Maybe.”

  Tara turned back to her computer, not sure why she resisted the idea of Liam Wolfe as a suspect in the Jane Doe killing. He was definitely a suspect in Catalina’s death. And it wasn’t clear at the moment whether Catalina’s murder and Jane Doe’s were linked.