Dying Scream

by Burton, Mary

  Vega grimaced. “All good theory if she weren’t found on Thornton land, the family home of our rich playboy. Four or five years ago, Thornton would have been in his midtwenties.”

  Gage blew out a breath. “Thanks, Doc.” He turned to Vega. “We are going to need his financial records ASAP. Chances are if Thornton was a regular anywhere, he put the expense on plastic. Find the venue and we just might find Jane Doe.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Friday, September 29, 9:00 a.m.

  “And now I’d like to introduce Adrianna Barrington, the spokesperson for Virginians for Safer Roads. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” The brief introduction from Charles Norton, the principal at Goodman High School, sounded more like an order than a request. As he applauded he scanned the auditorium full of tenth-grade students, searching for any signs of trouble.

  As the students clapped Adrianna moved toward the podium and smiled. She’d given this speech dozens of times in the last couple of years and now rarely used her notecards. However, each time she stepped in front of a crowd she couldn’t shake the sense that she was betraying Craig, the Thorntons, and her own family. Secrets, mistakes, even successes weren’t shared with the public.

  Shoving aside the guilt, Adrianna laid her hands on the podium. “I had my last conversation with my husband on November twenty-first three years ago.” In the audience three cell phones rang at once and giggles erupted. Adrianna paused, not surprised by the interruption, which went with teen territory. Texts, IMs, and Facebook reigned in their world. It was her job to make drunk driving and death real.

  However, the principal had less patience. He moved behind her, his arms crossed. When the room settled down, she continued. “Nearly three years ago,” she continued, “my husband and I were driving to a restaurant. We were talking about when and where we were going to have dinner.” When she’d first started giving the talks she didn’t mention the baby. It had been too painful. Lately she talked about her pregnancy. “I was three months pregnant and I still had morning sickness, so I wanted a restaurant that had good bread and tomato soup to settle my stomach. That is the last thing I remember thinking until I woke up in the hospital a day later.” She pressed a button and behind her a screen dropped. An image of Craig’s twisted and mangled BMW appeared on-screen. And as expected, the crowd grew silent. “What I later learned was that a drunk driver had run a stop sign and plowed right into the side of my husband’s car. I lost my baby. My husband survived the accident, but his head injuries were massive. He fell into a coma.”

  She pushed another button and more images of the car appeared. Front. Side. Rear. In the background lights from the police and fire vehicles cast a deadly glow on the twisted metal.

  The next slide was of Craig taken on his favorite sailing boat. His grin spread across his face. Wind swept through his thick blond hair. Blue eyes flashed. She clicked the button again to the picture taken of Craig lying in his hospital bed. A stunned hush fell over the room. “His head had been shaved for the initial brain surgery. The doctors were trying to reduce the pressure on his brain. As you can see, his face is so swollen he is almost unrecognizable.” The police had taken this picture after his accident in the hospital. They were trying to make a case against the drunk driver who had been arrested on the scene. “Craig was pronounced brain dead a day later by his doctors. They told me to take him off life support. After three days of praying and crying, I did. But he didn’t die for another two years.”

  Adrianna spent a little more time talking about Craig’s injuries. She tossed in statistics about drunk driving as she clicked through more pictures of Craig, healthy and young and then again in his coma. The auditorium was silent. All eyes focused on her. “Now I’d like to answer any questions.”

  It took a moment for the first hand to go up. A young girl. Perky, perfect skin and hair, polo shirt and khakis. “What can you tell us about the person who hit your husband?”

  “She was thirty-two at the time of the accident. Pretty, smart, and a nurse at a local hospital. She was liked and respected by friends, many of whom spoke at her sentencing hearing.”

  “Why would a hospital hire a drunk for a nurse?” the girl challenged.

  “She always prided herself on showing up to work sober. The night she hit my husband’s car, she’d just come off an eighteen-hour shift in the emergency room. She’d managed to save the life of a fourteen-year-old who’d almost died from a fall out of a tree house. She was so proud that she’d decided to stop at her favorite bar and have a drink. She ended up having ten. By the time she got into her car, her blood alcohol was twice the legal limit. She ran a stop sign that she’d later swear she never saw. She hit my husband’s car going forty miles an hour—the force of several sticks of dynamite.”

  The principal stepped up to the podium. “What happened to the driver?”

  “She received three years in jail. It turns out she’d driven drunk before. This was her third offense. If Craig had died at the scene, she could have gotten ten years. That would have been vehicular homicide. But Craig had the misfortune of lingering and was still alive at the time of her sentencing.”

  More questions followed. What do you do for a living? How old are you? Do you think about your husband a lot?

  Afterward, everyone in the room stood and gave her a round of applause. She knew they were moved by the moment. By her story. And hoped they remembered it past lunch tomorrow. Most wouldn’t. But one or two would. And that’s all she could hope for.

  When her time ended, Adrianna walked into the bright sunshine escorted by the principal. He was her height but his body was soft, fleshy. “Thank you, Ms. Barrington. That was great.”

  She always felt drained after talks like this one. It forced her to relive what she wanted to let go of but couldn’t quite. She slipped on her sunglasses. “Thank you, Principal Norton. I appreciate the opportunity.” She reached in her purse and pulled out two tickets. “Two tickets to our benefit next week. We’re auctioning off some very unique paintings. Please come as my guest. All proceeds benefit the new Thornton Neonatal Unit at Mercy Hospital.”

  He accepted the tickets and smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

  “See you then?” The wind blew. Gold bracelets on her wrist jangled as she brushed hair from her eyes.

  “I will.” He hesitated. “Ms. Barrington, can I ask one question?”

  “Sure.”

  He glanced side to side as if he wasn’t sure he should be asking this question. “The woman who hit your husband, what’s her status?”

  Her spine was ramrod straight. “She gets out of prison this month, I believe.”

  His frown deepened. “Do you know if she’s stopped drinking?”

  How many times had she been asked this question? “She tells me she has quit.”

  As always, her frankness shocked. “You’ve spoken to her?”

  “She’s written to me several times and I’ve responded.”

  His mouth dropped open in shock before he quickly snapped it closed. “What could she say to you?”

  She was grateful her sunglasses cloaked her eyes, which no doubt reflected sadness. “She wanted my forgiveness.”

  “Did you give it to her?” The personal question struck into the heart of so many what ifs that stalked her and kept her in a constant state of tension these days.

  Adrianna repeated what she told everyone. “It’s a process, Mr. Norton. It’s a process.”

  In the light of day, she could embrace the idea of forgiveness. But the truth was when thoughts of her baby came to mind—his due date, his first birthday, his first steps—she realized she’d not forgiven Tammy Borden at all.

  Tess tucked her motorcycle helmet under her arm and pushed through the main door of the medical examiner’s office.

  It was her first day off in two weeks. And if she were in her right mind or had any semblance of a personal life she’d be doing something fun like wandering through the historic shops in Carytown, getting a m
anicure or massage, or maybe having lunch with a friend.

  But she’d never developed the knack of having fun. That explained her lacking wardrobe, shorn nails, and tense muscles. Work was pretty much her life. The only place she felt right. All the Kiers were defined by their work. Her brother Zack, a reformed work junkie, had gotten better about putting in the long days since he and his wife had had their son, but she and her brother Malcolm were hopeless workaholics. It had cost them relationships, friendships, and too many hours of sleep.

  But she’d stopped fretting over her work obsession years ago. It was what it was.

  And she had a new case that was eating into her life. Last year she’d collected evidence on three other murdered women. Nightmares had plagued her on those cases for months. In her sleep she heard their screams. She felt the breath being choked from their bodies as they’d been strangled. He had been stopped. Warwick had been the one to break the case.

  Last night she’d had dreams, not of killers, but of missing a key piece of evidence. What evidence linked these two bodies that she wasn’t seeing?

  Tess pushed through the swinging doors of the medical examiner’s office in search of Alex. The guy had enough work to do without her hanging around and prodding him with questions, but she’d come this far and as her mother used to say, “Faint hearts never win.”

  Tess found him in the autopsy room at the head of a chrome exam table studying the brain of a sixtysomething male cadaver. Across from Alex was his assistant, a short plump woman with lots of red curly hair peeking out from her surgical cap. Dee something. Both were dressed in scrubs, wore plastic gloves and splashguards to protect their eyes.

  As the sound of the door whooshed open Alex and Dee looked up. Even through the thick protective glasses she saw Alex’s ice blue eyes darkened with curiosity. “Tess, what brings you here?”

  With both of them staring at her, she felt just a little flatfooted. I’ve no life. “I came to ask you a couple of questions about the Jane Does.”

  Alex straightened to his full six feet. “I performed a very thorough examination. What more do you want to know?”

  “You’ve already looked at the bodies?”

  “Detective Hudson seemed anxious for information. What do you need?”

  Something about the remains bothered and pestered her but she couldn’t put it into words. “I just keep thinking that I need to see both side by side.” She glanced at her empty hands, wishing now she’d bought donuts or something. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you asked for favors? Instead she just tucked them in her jeans pocket.

  “I’m just wrapping up this case and then I was breaking for lunch.”

  “Oh right, I know I came without calling and that you have a full schedule. You don’t have to stick around. I could just look at the bones alone.”

  His gaze dropped to the body. “Chain of custody makes that impossible in this situation.”

  He was right, of course. The bones were in his possession. Chain of custody couldn’t be broken. Coming here had been a bad idea. “Oh, yeah, right. I should have thought about that. I’ll leave you to your work. I know you’re logging a lot of hours.”

  Alex shrugged. “Part of the territory.” His gaze skimmed her worn jeans and polo shirt. “You didn’t work today.”

  “No. Day off. And like I said, I was just curious.” She should have turned and left, but she didn’t know where to go. It felt odd, sad even, not to know what to do with her spare time. So she lingered as he finished the autopsy.

  Minutes later, Alex glanced up at Dee as he pulled the sheet over the corpse. “I think we’re finally done here. Why don’t you head on out to lunch.”

  Dee stretched her back. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Unlike some people, I can leave this place behind and have a little fun.”

  The barb hit its mark with Tess, but she shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all. “Stop, Dee, you’re going to make me cry.”

  Dee grimaced. “Please. You’re bulletproof, Tess Kier.”

  “I’m Super Girl, baby.” Tess lingered, not sure if Dr. Butler had asked her to stay or go. She opted to stay, figuring he’d toss her out if and when she wore out her welcome.

  Alex had stripped off his gloves, goggles, and gown. He turned toward the sink when he spoke. “Okay, Tess, we can have one more look at the bones.”

  “Don’t you want lunch?” She wanted to give him an out, to be polite, but honestly, his stomach didn’t concern her.

  Alex’s direct gaze held no hint of emotion. “Buy me a sandwich after.”

  “Sure.” It was a straightforward transaction: food for information.

  “All right.” He washed his hands in the sink and removed his outer surgical gown.

  “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Dee said.

  Both Tess and Alex ignored the comment. Neither needed to say that they were about the most non-romantic people in town.

  “So what are you looking for with the bones?” His voice lacked inflection.

  Sometimes she had the sense that he viewed her as a novice. “I just know these women deserve better.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been careful with the specimens. I’ve conducted x-rays, extracted DNA from the teeth, and studied each bone very carefully.”

  “I know you’ve nailed the science stuff, but you see them as specimens.” Irritation crept into her voice.

  “Exactly.”

  “To me they are more than specimens. They were women.”

  Alex shook his head. “Their humanity is long gone.”

  “How can you be so callous?” She’d been looking for a fight since she got up this morning and realized she might just have found one.

  “It’s not callous. It’s logical. Humanity is more than bones. And I deal in facts, Tess. Not emotions. Period. If you’re wise you’ll do the same.”

  The force behind the words surprised her and stoked her temper. “I can’t just deal in facts. Who the victims were, how they lived, who they loved plays a part in how they died.” She squared her shoulders.

  “Reasonable. But you are listing facts.”

  “It’s more than facts. What did they want from life? What were their dreams? Likes? Dislikes? All that makes up their humanity.”

  “All I have are bones.” He sounded so damn reasonable.

  “I know.” She sighed. “It’s very important to me that Jane Doe is identified.”

  “Why is this so personal to you?”

  Jesus, didn’t the guy have any feelings? “There might be people looking for her, worrying.”

  He cocked his head a fraction. “Yes, but why is that important to you?”

  “There were no clothes on the body. Not a shred. Even a few years in the ground aren’t enough time to eat away at most fabrics. She was naked when he buried her. No man who takes a woman to the woods and strips her naked is doing good things. Her last hours must have been terrifying.”

  “Perhaps he stripped the body postmortem so there’d be no identifying bits of clothing.”

  “That’s always a possibility, but I don’t think so. Whoever did this is a sadist.”

  “No facts to support that, but your theory isn’t without merit based on what the bones reveal.”

  Tess ran long fingers through her hair. “I really want to catch this guy.”

  He nodded. “Our goals are the same, Tess, but I realize that odds are minimal after the passage of so many years.”

  “Alex, don’t you ever go on your gut instinct?”

  “No.” His voice held no hint of emotion. “I either have the facts or I don’t.”

  Tess could feel her frustration growing and knew she needed to get a handle on it. Dial it down a notch or she just might burn another bridge. “So can I see the bones?”

  A silence settled in the room and she half thought he’d tell her to get lost. He didn’t. “Follow me.”

  She trailed him into another, smaller tiled room. There were two t
ables in the room and laid out on each was the completely assembled bones of the victims. The guy must have been up all night for a couple of nights in a row assembling them. Suddenly, she felt bad about what she’d said. “I can be a bitch when I’ve got an unsolved case.”

  “Understandable.” Alex looked tired. His face was pale and dark circles smudged the soft skin under his eyes.

  “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” Tess said.

  “No.”

  Tess leaned in, noting the bones smelled of mold and musk.

  Curiosity brightened Alex’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to imagine her last day.”

  “Why?”

  She walked around the table studying the earth-stained bones that had once supported the bodies of two young women. “You think I’m crazy.”

  Alex shrugged. “I’m reserving judgment.”

  That made her smile. “Me, too.”

  She stared at the hands, the arms, the face, and the legs. “He didn’t kill her in the woods. Because he needed privacy for what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  Alex shook his head, genuinely frustrated. “This is not a person on the table. It’s a case. It’s evidence. If you want to catch the killer, these bones can’t be a person.”

  Tess tempered her voice. They could go round and round forever. “Please, just humor me. Your brain is not going to short-circuit if we just toss out theories.”

  “Theories.” He seemed to like the sound of that word. “I can do theories.”

  “Theories. Stories. Let’s see what she can tell us.” His frown had her smiling. “What the evidence can tell us.”

  Alex picked up the skull. “Caucasian female. Late twenties. Five six or seven. Dancer or waitress. Had at least one child. Slight hyperextension in her spine. Four cavities. No fillings or signs of dental work.”

  “Single mom becomes a waitress to support her child. It’s hard to get out and date, but she wants to. The best place to meet a guy is at work.”

  He ignored her. “Victim number two identified as Rhonda Minor. Working-class family. Art student. Painting. Petite. Brunette. Knew Craig Thornton. Student at VCU.”