“Don’t say it!” Skye aimed her lethal glare at Josh. “You know as well as I do, it’s her and she’s still there. I feel it.”
“Okay, but why didn’t the hospital personnel notify her mother? Tell me that.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Skye shot back. “Maybe because she had no ID on her at the time, no coat in the cold and she’s been out of it for two days. I don’t know. Okay?”
“Try not to jump down my throat. Okay? Try to remember, I’m on your side.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled as they made their way back through the waterfront along the seawall. Her shoulders slumped. “Sometimes this gets old, you know? I get so fed up at all this. I think I know why I loved getting away for two weeks.” She spread her arms wide. “I got away from this, from stories like Shawna’s.”
He gripped her hand. “I know it’s infuriating to have so many kids on the streets and not be able to help each one. Do you think Shawna ran away after all?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think. Karen, her mother, was so sure her kid wouldn’t bolt.”
“Like that’s the first time a parent’s been wrong about their child. We have to ask ourselves how certain are we that this is Shawna. What’s your gut telling you?”
“Before I answer that, what led you straight to that homeless camp tonight? Was it just following Kiya or something else inside you?” She tapped his chest for emphasis. “Because you went there without hesitation, Josh, something led you there other than Kiya.”
Josh breathed in the night air, looked up at the dark sky. “Okay. Then I guess we do this and see how good we really are. We’ll reserve judgment as to why Shawna was at that greasy spoon until we get some solid answers.”
Chapter Four
Just shy of two a.m. they walked into one of the largest and busiest public hospitals in King County. Harborview treated hundreds of patients a day. The crowded waiting room was evidence of that. It brimmed with people in dire need of medical attention. Everything from knife wounds to raging fevers.
Skye strolled up to the front desk with the flyer in her hand. As soon as the woman behind the counter turned around, she wasted no time getting to the point.
“Look, I know you’re busy with a line of patients waiting, but my name is Skye Cree. Hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. I’m looking for this fifteen-year-old girl.” She held up the flyer and the photograph. “Her name is Shawna Langley. She went missing eight days ago. Today would make it nine. There’s a mother back home frantic to locate her daughter. We have reason to believe that she’s here. Paramedics picked up a girl fitting Shawna’s description two nights ago at Pete’s Grill over on Third—”
The woman held up a hand to stop, nudged her coworker in the arm. “It’s Skye Cree. Skye Cree is looking for a missing girl.”
“In our hospital?”
Skye blurted out, “That’s right. Apparently they brought her to Harborview after she fainted. Witnesses said she also looked bruised and beaten, maybe even on some type of drugs or meds. Maybe if you pass around her picture to the ER staff, someone might recognize her, remember working on her.”
“Wait. What about that girl on three? She looks a little like that photo, hard to tell though since her face is still swollen, black and blue, too. Let me call upstairs and verify the day she was brought in. Be right back.”
The other woman added, “You know we won’t be able to give you anything more than that, not without a court order, right?”
“I know that,” Skye said glancing at Josh. “What’s her condition now? If you could just tell me that in a vague and general way I could convey that to her mother.”
When the first admitting clerk hung up the phone she turned to Josh and Skye. “I talked to the nurse upstairs. The date fits. The girl’s been a Jane Doe since she was admitted. She was in and out of it and then lost consciousness altogether. She hasn’t been awake at all. You really think our Jane Doe might be your missing girl?”
“How about we call her mother and let her take a look at your Jane Doe?” Josh said, holding up his cell phone over Skye’s shoulder.
“But it’s after two in the morning,” the clerk pointed out.
“Trust me. The girl’s mother won’t mind getting this kind of news in the middle of the night.”
Two hours after getting approval from the hospital staff, Karen Houston positively identified the girl who’d passed out in Pete’s Grill as her daughter.
Skye and Josh lingered in Shawna’s darkened room while Karen sat stoic beside the girl’s bed, clutching Shawna’s pale hand in hers. Finally Karen asked, “What do you suppose happened to her the morning she went missing?”
Skye shook her head. “I have no idea. We’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.”
Tears streamed down Karen’s face. “Do you think she will? Wake up, that is.”
“Yes, I do. You heard the doctor say that she likely hit her head but that her brain scan looked good. And her tox screen came back clean.”
“Which means she didn’t faint because she was on drugs,” Josh added. “Right now, Shawna’s brain is resting, getting stronger so that when she does wake up, she’ll be able to tell us what happened.”
“You really think so?” Karen looked from Josh to Skye. “How in the world did you two find her? You’re both incredible people. You did what the cops were unable to do. Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay either one of you. I’m so glad I got in touch with you, Skye. I almost didn’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Bob, that’s my husband and Shawna’s stepfather, told me it was a waste of time and not to bother.”
“Bob discouraged you from doing everything you could to locate your daughter?” Josh snorted, bewildered at the notion. He met Skye’s furious eyes. Like two mobile devices syncing up, their signals linked in a like mindset.
But when Josh opened his mouth to explore that line of questioning further, Skye shook her head and mouthed the words “not now.”
Stymied, Josh did his best to sound light and casual as if making small talk when he asked instead, “How long exactly have you and your husband been married?”
“Two years last November.”
“Ah, that almost qualifies as newlyweds,” Skye proffered.
Karen blew her nose into a Kleenex, tightened her grip on Shawna’s fingers to keep that fragile bond intact. “If only that were true. The last two years have been rather rocky between us. There’s been a lot of tension in the house.”
“How so? Some relationships just take more work than others,” Josh tossed out, hoping Karen took the bait. But when she sat there stoic, he simply said, “It’s a shame Bob didn’t come down here with you tonight.”
“He’s out of town. He travels quite a bit. I called him though. I guess he had that ‘do not disturb’ feature on. It went straight to voicemail.”
“So he might not know yet that Shawna’s been found?”
“Not yet.”
“Look, Karen, Josh and I should get out of your way and leave you alone with your daughter. Be sure to keep us updated on Shawna’s progress, will you?”
“Oh, I will,” Karen said, dabbing at her eyes. “If not for you two, I wouldn’t be sitting her with her. I’ll call you the minute she wakes up.”
Out in the hallway, Josh turned to Skye. “Okay, that isn’t like you to drop a hot topic and run. The stepfather knows more than he’s saying.”
“Of course, he does. But it wasn’t the right time to confront Karen. We woke her up. She’s raw and vulnerable right this minute. If we go into grilling mode about Bob, she’d likely jump to her husband’s defense. What good would that do us? Besides, without Shawna’s input, we have nothing but a wolf’s instinct and a strong suspicion. I’m betting Karen had no idea the stepfather had the hots for her daughter. So as soon as Shawna regains consciousness, we’ll be back here to talk to her. That’s the best time to enter the fray.”
“But we can’t give Bob tim
e to show up here and let Shawna wake up to her stepfather standing at her bedside,” Josh argued.
“We won’t. Let’s go talk to the nurse. If we have to, we’ll get Shawna’s attending physician involved.”
“Then it’s time to call Harry.”
“Yep. Harry’s on speed dial.”
“Do you think the hospital did a rape kit when Shawna was brought in?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Harry was more than willing to confront Karen Houston about her husband. That’s why around nine o’clock that morning he guided her into one of the offices on the first floor of the medical center. There, he asked her point-blank about Bob Houston.
“Where was he the morning Shawna went missing?”
As Skye predicted, Karen became defensive. “You aren’t suggesting Bob did this, are you? Lord knows, he has his faults, but he wouldn’t do something like this to my daughter.”
“Then tell me where he was.”
“He’d gone to work.”
“So he wasn’t out of town?”
“Not then, no.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Harry put Karen through a series of questions. But Shawna’s mother stuck to the same refrain.
Before Harry finally let Karen go back to Shawna’s room, he left her with one thought. “When Shawna passed out that night, the paramedics couldn’t have brought her to a better medical facility. They took a rape kit, which is standard procedure. Be sure to mention that to your husband when he comes back into town. As soon as your daughter wakes up, as soon as she’s well enough to talk to me, I’ll be here. In the meantime, I’m leaving orders with the staff that her stepfather is to be kept out of her room.”
“You can’t do that,” Karen argued. “Bob cares for her, too.”
“That may be true. You have my permission to tell him that we’ll be formally requesting a swab for his DNA to clear him of any wrongdoing. At this point, it’s standard procedure. If he so chooses, Mr. Houston can certainly sit with you at the hospital in the waiting room. But until Shawna wakes up, Bob Houston will not be allowed in her room until I get answers from your daughter. Are we clear on that?”
Karen nodded and Harry watched the woman storm out. He checked the time on his watch. If he hurried, he just might be on time for the meeting with the medical examiner at the morgue where Skye and Josh were no doubt already waiting.
Chapter Five
At ten-thirty the next morning on less than four hours sleep, Josh and Skye were still mulling over the mystery of Shawna as they dragged themselves out of the car and into the morgue.
While Skye watched the fifty-six-year-old medical examiner, Roger Bayliss, get ready for their meeting, she decided everything she’d heard about the man was true. Dressed in blue scrubs, Bayliss wasn’t exactly the welcoming sort.
All business, gruff and surly at times, the no-nonsense, board-certified coroner had been at his job for a quarter of a century. Before that, his goal had been what most med students hope for, to open his own practice. But that all changed after Bayliss realized meeting people on a daily basis might not be his forte. His patients complained that his bedside manner bordered on abrupt and rude, and that was on a good day.
Giving up his private practice forced Bayliss to apply for a job at the county. He soon discovered the medical examiner’s office a much better fit. Unlike his former patients, these people didn’t seem offended with every churlish word that flowed out of his mouth.
With all his years on the job, the man had his autopsies down pat. The weighing of organs, the measuring of bones, the taking of photos—even speaking into a recorder to note the particulars of a case in his gravelly voice usually took him no more than an hour at most to complete.
But today his reputation as a grouch was evident.
Skye noted the man’s irritation at having outsiders taking up space in what he considered his domain. Skye already knew Bayliss didn’t like onlookers or a crowded work space. It was widely known dealing with either one made him testy. Today the man had to contend with both.
The room was fairly large, but with four extra people lurking at Bayliss, it got crowded pretty quick. Joining her and Josh, were Harry and a forensic anthropologist named Dawson Hennings. They all stood like statues doing their best not to make any unnecessary movements as they waited for the first directive from Bayliss. Surely he wouldn’t throw out the people who’d driven across town to observe. Observe what, Skye wasn’t exactly sure. All she knew was she had to be here.
She knew going in Bayliss didn’t have a lot to work with, in fact, none of them did. Because of that Skye didn’t think Bayliss would let them stay for too long. That’s why she intended to make her time here count.
She watched as Bayliss began to spread out the bones. He set the skull down first, then the femur, the tibia came next, along with the patella. Lastly, he placed the mummified hand down on the exam table.
The sparse number of bones laid out on the stainless steel made for an eerie, yet incomplete sight.
She turned to Harry. “According to your message this morning there were no fingerprints lifted from the note accompanying these first set of bones and none found anywhere on the box, right?”
“That’s right. The lab already went over the newspaper tucked inside and found it didn’t yield a single clue, not even under ultraviolet light. This morning three detectives went over last night’s surveillance tape of the building. On my way over, they called to say the tape shows a messenger service dropped off that second box. They’re checking now on who placed the order.”
“It won’t lead back to him,” Josh said with some confidence. “Any bets on whether or not he used a phony name?”
“Probably.”
“If we could just cut the chatter,” Bayliss protested. He glanced around the room to make sure the intruders had put on their latex gloves. Satisfied, Bayliss kicked the ball to the opposition. “What exactly are you hoping for here, Drummond?” he barked. “A cause of death?” Bayliss shook his head. “You won’t get that from me, not today. Whoever boxed these up and sent them to you knew exactly what he was doing, knew these particular bones of this particular victim wouldn’t give up how they died. He gave you just enough to pique your interest and mine, but not enough to tell us much else.”
“Then give us what you have got,” Harry urged.
“Not much. As you can see there is no outward damage to the skull, no visible fractures, not even a hairline crack in any of the bones. The rest of the skeletal remains would be necessary to determine a cause of death, if then. No tissue to deal with means this victim could have died in any number of ways. Natural causes, possibly asphyxiated, could have been stabbed in the heart without nicking any bones. See, not a single nick on any of these. Unfortunate for us, in this case, the bones don’t give up much. I have no hyoid bone and so far nothing to indicate a violent death. But since your sender sent bones in the first place, them showing up like they have, it does open up a whole list of possibilities as to how this person could’ve died. Are we all on the same page here so far?”
When everyone nodded Bayliss continued. “As to identity, there’s hope there, thanks to the genetics expert I’ve brought in. Hennings here is the best. Old human remains are his specialty. Hopefully he’ll get lucky and ID this victim by getting DNA out of the teeth in the skull. The bones themselves might eventually yield DNA. Patience is key here. In turn, Hennings will extract DNA and run it through CODIS.”
Skye interrupted him. “But traveling down that road, obtaining an ID by that means, would depend on whether or not the victim’s family actually took the time to submit to DNA screening at some point.”
Bayliss stared at the striking woman with the violet eyes. “You are indeed correct. Not all families with a missing loved one take that extra step. Which brings us back to square one. So I’ll ask again, what do you expect me to do here today, Drummond? After all, we don’t even have a pelvis to indicate whether w
e have a male or a female.”
“The note said it was female so we’re assuming—” Harry began but was interrupted by Bayliss, who simply gave him a withering stare and continued.
“I’m not here to assume, detective.”
Just as stubborn, Harry snapped back. “There’s pink nail polish on that hand. I’d say it belongs to a female.”
Bayliss squawked back, “Or a transvestite. Did you consider that? If I may continue. With such little to go on we don’t even know if the hand belongs with the bones that were mailed first, nail polish and all. The hand could belong to another person entirely. That’s mainly why I called in Hennings here. His lab is state-of-the-art and at this stage will likely be able to help you a good deal more than mine.” Bayliss glowered at the younger man, an overt indication to take his cue from that and run with it.
In response, the forty-year-old Dawson Hennings cleared his throat. “The remaining teeth in the skull tell me it’s more than likely from a young adult, between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four. I say that because there’s no indication the wisdom teeth came in before the time of death. And see the cranial sutures in the skull? They aren’t yet fully closed. Another indication the victim was young.”
Skye winced just a little as she watched Dawson pick up the head to show the others what he meant. “Like Dr. Bayliss pointed out, it would be great if we had a pelvis to indicate male or female, but since we don’t, I’ll extract DNA, send it to the clearinghouse and like he said we could get lucky with a match. If not, at least we’ll know gender.”
“What if you can’t get DNA from these bones?” Skye wondered.
“It’s rare that we get no usable DNA whatsoever from teeth, but I won’t lie, it is a possibility. Bones in water for too long or exposed to the environment may not respond well to testing the nucleus.”
Skye Cree 03: The Bones Will Tell Page 5
