Deadfall

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “I have a hard time with my hours too.” Chris’s face split into a grin. “Seriously though, if you don’t think it’ll work, it’s better to bow out now.”

  Mac shrugged. “I told her I’d work on it.” Mac had told Linda and Pastor Jim that he’d try to do better at keeping in touch. He’d tried, he honestly had—when he thought about it, which wasn’t often enough. Chris was right. One of these days he’d have to face facts and come to a decision. It wasn’t fair to Linda or to him to keep things in limbo.

  Kevin emerged over the dune at the top of the sandy beach, unsnapping his raincoat as he came toward them. “Kristen is just pulling in.” Looking at the sky, he said, “We may get lucky on the weather for a bit.” As he joined Mac and Chris, he added, “Mac, you want to go up and give our good doctor a hand?”

  “Sure.” Mac trudged back through the loose sand, glad to be busy, glad to have Kristen there. Glad for this new case. He’d completely dead-ended on the sawmill murder. As much as he hated to, he and Kevin had shelved it. It shouldn’t have affected Mac quite so much, but it did. His first case as lead detective, and he’d failed. Of course, the case wasn’t officially closed, but it might as well be. All they had was a latent print and no match.

  12

  DR. KRISTEN THORPE swung her Dodge pickup behind the detectives’ sedan and crunched on the emergency brake. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, though she wasn’t sure why. Nothing had changed since she left the office thirty minutes before. Except that her heart was beating a tad faster. Detective McAllister was in on this one, and she liked the idea of seeing him again. He liked her—or at least found her interesting. So what if he was engaged? He wasn’t married yet. She still had a chance.

  Thorpe, you are out of your mind. The last thing you need is a relationship with a cop. She had a kid at home, for Pete’s sake. She also had needs—needs that weren’t fulfilled by the job. She liked her work, but she sometimes longed for the company of a man— someone nice, like Mac, who didn’t find her work offensive. At least not too offensive. He respected her—that much she knew.

  Kristen rolled her eyes and grabbed an ink pen from the sun visor, pulling off the cap with her teeth. She wrote down a few notes on a form attached to her metal clipboard and then pressed the cap back on the pen. Climbing out of the cab, she waved at the dimpled trooper. “Hey, Dana. I see you’re still trying to make an impression on these guys. You must really want to make detective to stand out here in this frigid weather.”

  Dana nodded. “I do. But at the moment, I’m thinking I ought to have my head examined.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Kristen liked Dana. Liked her attitude. She’d make a good detective, if and when she could get past the good old boys.

  Mac jogged toward them. “Hey, Kristen, need a hand with your gear?” He stopped at the back of the truck. As usual, his gaze went to Kristen’s spiked hair and triple earrings.

  “Why thank you, Mac. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.” She sidled up to him, placing a hand on his sleeve. “You come here often?” she asked in a sultry voice, batting her long eyelashes at him. A femme fatale she was not, but she enjoyed teasing Mac. Enjoyed seeing his handsome face flush as she teased out his gorgeous smile. Her hand slid off his sleeve, and she wiped her wet palm on her jeans.

  “Um, occasionally.”

  “Oh, Mac, relax. I’m really not as fearsome as I look.” Kristen always managed to fluster him and wasn’t sure if that was the right modus operandi. Maybe she should change her tactics. She grabbed the handle of the large plastic box, containing her camera, film, rubber gloves, and various other tools of the trade.

  “Got a floater, huh?”

  “Afraid so. It looks like he’s been in the water for a while.”

  “Skin slippage?” Kristen squinted her eyes and plugged her nose.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s just great. I hate floaters; I can never get the smell off me.

  My cat wouldn’t even go near me after the last one I handled. No wonder I’m single.” Kristen slipped on her rain jacket, momentarily exposing a pierced navel and a small tattoo on her hip as her shirt climbed up her midriff.

  I don’t think that’s the only reason. Mac kept the remark to himself. He liked Kristen, but she seemed a little too much on the wild side. Besides that, the woman was as intimidating as a Bengal tiger.

  Kristen grabbed the handle on the large box that held her evidence equipment and then walked to the rear of the truck and opened the canopy. She pulled the steel cadaver gurney from the back of the truck with a grunt, extending the collapsible legs. She then locked the legs open and unfolded the black plastic body bag, then threw the box on the stretcher’s surface.

  “Like my new sticker, Mac?” Kristen pointed to the lid on her plastic box, which she’d covered with unusual bumper stickers.

  He craned his neck to see the lid and spotted the sticker in question. The round yellow sticker had the familiar smiley face with black eyes and big grin. Only this smiley face had a red bullet hole in the center of its forehead.

  Mac shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  Kristen laughed. “A homicide detective with the Portland Police Bureau gave me that one. Isn’t it just too tacky?”

  “That’s an understatement,” Mac muttered.

  Kristen’s grin faded as she turned serious and looked over her gear. “Let’s see—gloves, body bag, envelopes . . .” She went on to list the needed equipment. “You guys got the photos?”

  “Yep, we’ll handle that end. Kevin has the thirty-five, so why don’t you let me shoot your digital?”

  “Why, Mac.” She grinned up at him and winked. “You can shoot my digital anytime.”

  Not waiting for his response, Kristen handed Mac her digital camera out of the toolbox. “Okay, lover boy, let’s roll.”

  MAC AND KRISTEN carried the metal gurney to the shoreline, its heavy black wheels rendered useless in the sand. “Hey, Kev, how have you been?” Kristen asked, extending her hand.

  “Can’t complain.”

  “Do you know Chris?” Mac asked Kristen.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Kristen shook the trooper’s hand.

  “Chris Ferroli, this is Dr. Kristen Thorpe. Kristen’s the medical examiner.” Mac gestured to the back of the boat. “She’ll be taking your friend off your hands.”

  “What happened to ‘finder’s keepers’?” Kristen slipped on a pair of white cotton gloves and then topped them with purple latex gloves.

  “What’s with the double gloves?” Mac asked. “Do they make handling the victim easier?”

  “It’s a brand-new technique, Mac.” She held up her hands and examined them. “It’s called keeping your hands warm while you handle wet dead things.”

  “Check.” Mac cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed.

  “What about your feet? You’re going to get soaked.” Mac gestured toward her brown leather hiking boots.

  “These feet aren’t going in the water, that’s how. One of you is going to bring the body to me.” She gave Mac a sly smile.

  “It’s not going to be me,” Kevin said.

  Mac frowned. “These are my new boots.”

  “Looks like I’m elected.” Chris said, slapping the rubber-coated legs of his water survival suit.

  “What kind of shape is he in, Chris? Can you get him to shore by yourself?” Kristen asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got some cloth around his shoulder and armpit. He seems to float pretty well.” Chris moved into the murky water, holding onto the rail of the heavy boat. The water was thigh-high when he reached the stern and reached over to untie the tether that held the victim. The trooper began pulling the bloated corpse to shore.

  “Try to get some speed while he’s still in the water so he slides up on the beach,” Kristen told him.

  “Right.” Chris high-stepped out of the river, pulling the body up on the beach, about halfway out of the water. “He’s bogging down. W
ant me to keep coming?”

  “You’re doing fine. Hoist that sucker all the way out if you can.”

  Chris turned and faced the body, walking backward onto the beach while tugging on the makeshift tow rope until the body was totally out of the water. The body undulated after reaching the shore, the water-saturated skin tearing in some places in its weakened state. The sight and smell proved too much for Chris. He made it less than three steps back into the river before succumbing to dry heaves.

  “Such a pleasant job we have, don’t you think, boys?” Kristen walked toward the body. “Help me roll him over, will you?”

  Mac and Kevin both slipped on purple rubber gloves from Kristen’s supply. Chris walked back toward the bank with watery eyes, carefully skirting the body. “Sorry about that. That’s never happened to me before.”

  Kristen smiled, “Happens to the best of us. You okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess the smell along with the sloughing skin got to me.” Chris wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

  “There’s some menthol cream in my box over there. Rub some under your nose, and you’ll be fine.” Kristen motioned with her head. “There are some mints in there too; you might want to grab some.”

  Chris made a beeline for the bag, and so did Mac. He didn’t want to admit it, but Mac had almost lost his cookies as well. He rubbed some of the strong-smelling salve under his nose.

  “I think I’ll stick to fish and deer carcasses.” Chris’s eyes were still watering. “This is too much.”

  Mac joined Kristen and Kevin. Mac snapped a few photos with Kristen’s digital camera, while Kevin used the small 35 mm camera.

  “I’d better take some backup shots. I don’t trust these digital things.” Kevin snapped several more shots before slipping the camera into his pocket.

  Kristen stepped back from the body, scratching an itch on her chin with her upper arm—careful not to let her gloved hands get anywhere near her face. “I’ll get some more at the autopsy,” Kristen said. “This will do for now.” Mac nodded and stowed the digital back in Kristen’s field kit.

  Kristen pulled a large thermometer from her toolbox and slid the sharp end of the instrument inside the skin on the upper right thigh of the bloated corpse. The purple skin tore as she slid the metal point in several inches. “Got to get it close to the bone for an accurate reading,” she told them.

  “What do you make of those lines on his stomach and shoulder?” Chris asked, still standing back away from the body.

  “These striations?” Kristen pointed to the chest.

  Chris nodded.

  “These are all postmortem; it doesn’t look like a man-made ligature shadow. My bet is some type of fishing net or even a sturdy piece of river grass wrapped around our victim. When the body begins to rot from the inside, it’s like you start to ferment.

  The cavities expand and cause this bloating. Plant life or other things that restrict the body from bloating in certain areas cause indentations like this. Kind of like when you’ve had on a tight pair of socks and they leave temporary lines behind when you take them off.”

  “See any signs of blunt force trauma, Doc?” Mac asked, trying to get a better look at the bruised, swollen face.

  “Nothing overt.” Kristen moved the head from side to side.

  “My money is on that barge accident victim we’ve been waiting to float up. We’ll know more when we get him back to my office for a post, but I don’t see any obvious signs of trauma.”

  “When are you scheduling him in?” Kevin asked.

  “This afternoon is fine with me, if you two can make it.” She pulled the thermometer from the body’s thigh and placed it back in the case. “He’s enviro-temp, no surprises. I’ll have to check my rigor charts with this water temp and get you an estimated time of death. With the greenies on the skin, I’m betting at least two weeks, though with this weather it could be more.”

  “That would be about right for our barge guys then,” Chris said. “Only thing is, they were wearing clothes.”

  “I’ve seen these rivers and ocean currents strip the best of them, so I’m not too concerned with the nudity.” Kristen rummaged through her case, pulling out a giant syringe and a small plastic cup. She removed the white plastic lid from the clear cup and set the cup in the sand. “I’m just thankful this one was lost below the dam. If he was upriver and went through the turbines, the body would be fish food by now.”

  “You have such a way with words.” Kevin grimaced and shook his head.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Kristen winked at Mac, then turned serious again as she plunged the syringe into the victim’s abdomen.

  Chris stepped back, turning a shade of green. “What are you doing now?”

  “I need a little urine from the bladder to see if this dude was smoking any herb superb or taking any other drugs we can detect.” She filled the giant syringe, emptied its contents into the plastic container, and sealed the lid.

  “Can you check for the presence of alcohol in the urine too?” Chris asked.

  “Not in this state. His blood and urine will be far too degraded. Remember that fermenting I was talking about earlier?” Kristen asked.

  “Fermenting.” Chris bit into his lower lip.

  “Well, I meant that in the literal sense. The body ferments just like grapes in wine, which will affect the blood-alcohol content readings. This guy is so degraded, I bet he comes back a three-point-five—four times the legal driving limit—without ever taking a sip of beer. That test is out of the question, but I can have the crime lab test for amphetamines, cocaine, and cannabis for THC content.”

  “Marijuana.” Chris nodded.

  “You got it. I prefer calling it the herb superb.” Kristen chuckled. “It rolls off the tongue.” She placed the container of urine in her case after sealing it with evidence tape and wrapping a small cardboard box around it.

  “Okay, ready for the fun part?” Kristen clasped her hands together and raised up on her toes, rocking back and forth. “Let’s get him bagged and tagged.”

  “How do you want to do this?” Mac grabbed the black body bag from the gurney.

  “Let’s unzip it and lay it out next to our friend here.” Kristen snagged the other end of the bag and pulled it apart. She and Mac waved the bag until it was reasonably flat, laying it next to the corpse. “Unzip the top of the bag all the way, Mac.” Kristen walked around to the torso of the body. “Okay, let’s do this on the first try if we can. Mac, since you’re the strongest, take the midsection.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes at this comment as Mac swaggered over to the body like an overdeveloped bodybuilder. “You have no idea what you just did to my ego,” Kevin pouted.

  “Sorry, Kevin. I was just trying to butter him up because of the handhold I’m making him take.” Mac grimaced as he looked down at his section of the work. “Chris, you take the legs, and Kevin, take the shoulders. Roll him to me, and I’ll make sure the bag stays open. Try to step on part of the body bag when we roll him or it’ll just keep sliding up the beach.”

  “You want to roll him all the way over or just back on his face?” Mac asked.

  “Just onto his face and stomach. We’ll put him right side up when we get him back to the office. Everyone ready?” Kristen asked.

  The three men nodded.

  “Okay, on three. One, two, three.”

  The men pushed the body over into the bag with a grunt. Mac’s hand sank into the victim’s midsection. The move almost made his stomach give up its last meal.

  “Good job.” Kristen zipped the body bag around the victim, while Kevin pulled the steel gurney over to the body and collapsed the legs. They easily slid the bag and its cargo aboard the now-flattened stretcher. Kristen zipped a second, rubberized external bag around the body and clasped the belts around the feet, midsection, and chest. They extended the legs again, and Kristen locked them into place.

  “That’s about it for here.” Kristen pulled off her rubber gloves w
ith a snap, then removed the cotton glove from her right hand and extended it to Chris. “Very nice to meet you, Chris. Thanks for the business.”

  Chris offered a wide grin, holding her hand a little longer than necessary. “I’ll have to remember that double-glove trick. Your hands are pretty warm.”

  “Ah yes, the miracles of the medical field,” she said with a laugh. “All right, cool. Let’s get out of here.”

  Mac and Kevin carried the gurney with the body up to the parking area, then helped Kristen load the gurney in the back of her truck. The wildlife trooper started the jet sled, giving them a final wave as he eased the boat off the bank. Once clear, he started upriver to his truck and trailer.

  “You guys want to head back to the office and wrap this up today?” Kristen asked. “If this guy’s our deck hand, we should be able to get the body taken care of pretty quick, while we’re already messy.”

  Kevin looked to Mac, who nodded and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m game.” He made a mental note to call Linda to let her know he’d be late.

  “Okay,” Kevin said. “Let’s put this one to bed today. We’ll meet you there, Doc.”

  “It’s a date.” Kristen winked at Mac and put on a set of headphones, then started her truck and rolled along the river road, moving her head to the wild rhythm of the music.

  “You up for an autopsy?” Mac asked Dana after thanking her and retrieving their crime scene log from her.

  “Love to, but I have to get back on patrol. Catch you later.”

  After saying goodbye to Dana, Kevin and Mac settled back in their car. Kevin had his hand on the heater knob before Mac even got the car started. “Cold?” Mac grinned.

  “The old blood doesn’t flow like it used to.” Kevin turned the heater fan to full blast. “I better call Sarge and let him know we may run into a little overtime with the post. You up for a voluntary adjust, Mac?”

  “Okay by me. Maybe we can both get Friday off if we put in enough hours on this.”

  “Good thinking.” Kevin punched in the numbers to Sergeant Evans’s mobile phone. Seconds later, Kevin had him on the line.