Donors

by C. M. Sutter

  “That’s correct, Agent Monroe. Heather lived with her parents, who worked second shift. They had no idea she wasn’t home Friday evening. When they came home from work, they assumed she was out with friends. They went to bed then realized the next morning her car was still gone. They called around, and nobody had seen her. So from Friday after work until yesterday when she was found, plenty of time had passed.”

  “And according to St. Mary’s Hospital, she was there for her entire shift?” J.T. asked.

  Larry spoke up. “Yes, and they even showed us her work sheet. She left at six p.m.”

  “Her role there was?” I glanced up from my notepad.

  “She worked in the lab as a helper to the technicians. She didn’t have a degree, so she was more or less their gofer. Her parents said she was going to start school next semester but…”

  I nodded. “We understand.” I closed my notepad. “I guess that’s it for the time being. We’re going to head out to Crown Point. We have an appointment with the ME at two thirty. She’s probably doing Heather’s autopsy already, and I’m sure she’ll have more to tell us when it’s complete.”

  I handed the detectives my card. J.T. did the same.

  “Let’s coordinate our plans tomorrow morning,” I said. “This afternoon we’re going to do some knock and talks. Who knows, we might get lucky.” We stood to leave the room. “The captain wants us to touch base with him before we leave. Would you mind making us a copy of your interview reports, Detective Fitch? We’d like to add them to our files.”

  “Of course, and I’ll bring them to the captain’s office when they’re ready.”

  Chapter 7

  J.T. took the surface streets over to State Road 53. From there it was a straight shot south, through Merrillville, until we reached East Ninety-Third Avenue, where we’d turn right. I pulled the map up on my phone to check the distance.

  “The map shows it’s only a half-hour drive. Hmm, this is interesting.”

  “What’s that?” J.T. glanced my way.

  “The Lake County Sheriff’s Department is only a short distance from the coroner’s office. Maybe we should introduce ourselves while we’re in the area.”

  “It can’t hurt. Even though the girls were all found within the city limits, I’m sure word gets around. There’s a good chance some of those deputies and detectives live in Gary, anyway. Let’s stop in after we talk to the medical examiner.”

  “Good plan. It’ll be interesting to hear what the ME’s take is on all of this. There might not be anything unique about Heather being found so quickly. It could be all about the location and have nothing to do with the killer’s motivation. Marquette Park sounds like a popular place to go, and lucky for Heather, she was found sooner than the others.”

  “Yeah, you could be right.”

  I opened the folder again to Heather’s information. “The report says she worked in the lab at St. Mary’s Hospital.” I gathered my thoughts for a few seconds. “The killer drained the girls’ blood through the carotid and femoral arteries. Maybe the killer works at the hospital too and has medical training. They might have been coworkers.” I closed the folder and set it back on my lap.

  J.T. stopped at the red light and snickered. “Or the killer learned everything they needed to know online. These days there’s a manual for every sick thing a person can think of. Did the interview report say who the detectives spoke with at the hospital?”

  I opened the folder again and flipped to the last page. “Um, hang on.” I ran my index finger down the sheet until I got to the part involving the hospital interviews. “Here we go. It looks like Larry and Melanie spoke with a few people in the lab yesterday afternoon, but the weekend employees aren’t the same as the weekday employees. They got Heather’s time sheet from the department head. The sheets get turned in to the payroll department on Monday mornings. The interviews aren’t extensive, and certainly none were with her actual coworkers.”

  “Make a note of that so it doesn’t get overlooked. We’ll conduct a more thorough interview with the people she actually worked with.”

  Fifteen minutes later, J.T. turned right on East Ninety-Third Avenue. We had less than two miles to go. When he passed Main Street, I looked ahead and to our right. Then I checked the enlarged map on my phone.

  “We’re getting close. It looks like there’s a huge government complex ahead on both sides of the street.” I pointed at the sign in front of us. “Yep, the arrow shows the coroner’s office is to our right.” I checked the time. We had fifteen minutes before our appointment. “I hope she’s finished with Heather’s autopsy and can shed some light on a connection between the three girls.”

  “The coroner is a woman?”

  “Yeah, she’s the medical pathologist and the elected coroner. I guess she’s been doing the job for quite a while.”

  J.T. parked, and we entered the building. We showed the receptionist our credentials and said the medical examiner was expecting us. We were led down a hallway to the office of Dr. Jane Felder. “Have a seat here,” the receptionist said as she pointed at the small waiting area. It consisted of four guest chairs lined against the wall and a table full of magazines in the center of the room. “I’ll see how soon the doctor will be available.”

  I nodded a thank-you, and she walked out and closed the door behind her. I grabbed the most recent gardening magazine off the table and took a seat.

  J.T. glanced at the cover and did a double take. “That has to be from last summer. The ground is frozen solid right now.”

  I smiled. “Smart people live in warm climates year round. I can wish, can’t I?” I flipped the pages of the magazine and dreamed of summer’s warmth and flower beds.

  The door opened a few minutes later. A pleasant looking middle-aged blond woman entered the waiting area. She wore dress slacks and a burgundy sweater with an unbuttoned lab coat over her clothes. Embroidered above the breast pocket of her coat was her name, Dr. J. Felder, along with numerous medical abbreviations. We stood and shook hands.

  “Please, agents, let’s step into my office. I have an hour available to answer your questions, and I’ll help as much as possible.”

  “We certainly appreciate that,” J.T. said.

  She tipped her head toward the chairs as she closed the door behind us. “Have a seat.”

  We sat in two matching guest chairs that faced her large Scandinavian-style desk. A half dozen framed diplomas hung on the wall behind her, likely there to reassure visitors of her credentials. To my right, several family photos, a blown glass vase, and dozens of medical books sat on a shelving unit.

  I turned my attention back to the doctor. “Ma’am, have you completed the autopsy on Heather Francis?”

  “Yes, I finished up about thirty minutes ago.”

  J.T. took over while I pulled my notepad from my purse. “We’ll need to know your findings and how her autopsy compares to those of Corrine Lionel and Taylor Dorsey.”

  “I understand. When she was brought in, I drew enough of Heather’s remaining blood to do a toxicology screen. Unless a new liquid is introduced into the body as the blood is being drawn out, there will always be a certain amount of blood remaining. Obviously it was different in the earlier cases. They were in the elements for quite some time. Heather was found and brought to me quickly. Anyway, the tox report showed nothing unusual.”

  I raised my brows in question. “Nothing?”

  “I’m afraid not, Agent Monroe.”

  “But if no drugs were found in her tox screen, how was she subdued? Nobody is going to lie still and let a person drain their blood. She had to put up a fight, didn’t she? Were there marks anywhere else on her body like rope burns, tape residue, that sort of thing? Was she punched in the head and knocked out?”

  “She did have light bruising across her chest, forearms, and ankles, which would lead me to think she was held down by something. It didn’t cut into her skin, though.”

  “So would someone be lying down
or suspended when blood is removed?” J.T. asked.

  I grimaced at how morbid our questions had begun to sound.

  “In a normal embalming situation, a person is lying down on a table. The blood is drained while the embalming fluid takes its place. But if this was some type of ritual killing, she could have been upright and suspended from something.”

  I took notes as Dr. Felder spoke. I looked up when she stopped talking. “But none of the bodies had embalming fluid in them, did they?”

  She sighed deeply. “No, they didn’t.”

  “What else can you tell us about Heather?” J.T. asked.

  “Her stomach contents looked to be bologna, bread, and an apple.”

  “So possibly her lunch from Friday?”

  “That sounds logical. As far as similarities to the other young ladies, Heather had bruising at her femoral and carotid arteries. There was no way for me to know when Corrine and Taylor were killed, though. Both of their bodies were frozen solid. If I had to guess by their condition when found, I’d say they were both dead for some time and out in the elements for several weeks.”

  “Other than obviously frozen, what was the condition of their bodies?”

  She gave me a thoughtful smile. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked to see the girls, Agent Monroe.”

  I raised my brows at J.T. “I haven’t been in an autopsy room for a while, but it would definitely help us get a better understanding of the crimes. What do you say, partner?”

  “I say absolutely.” He stood. “Shall we?”

  Dr. Felder led us down a short hallway to a closed door. Beyond that door, we continued down a flight of stairs to the bowels of the building. Every autopsy room I had ever visited had been in the basement. We walked through two sets of steel doors, each with a small window centered at eye level.

  The doctor looked over her shoulder. “Just a heads-up, it’s chilly in there.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. We’re aware.”

  A vacuum sounded when the doctor pressed a button on the wall, and the last door swung inward. We entered the cooled autopsy area, where two stainless steel tables stood dead center in the room. Each table had a supply cart at its side, filled with the medical examiner’s tools of the trade. The walls were wrapped with stainless steel shelving and countertops. Built into the opposite wall were the refrigerated drawers containing at least three bodies—the latest victims. We followed Dr. Felder to that side of the tiled room. She lifted a metal plate that covered a list bolted to the wall. She ran her index finger down the names on the list.

  “Okay, Corrine is in drawer fourteen, Taylor is in fifteen, and Heather is in seventeen. I’ll pull the drawers out, then you can examine them side by side, so to speak, as I explain their injuries. Are you ready, agents?”

  “Yes, Doctor. Go ahead.”

  We stood out of her way as she slid the drawers toward her. Corrine and Taylor’s bodies were enclosed in body bags. Heather’s was draped in a white sheet.

  “Why the body bags?” J.T. asked.

  “The first two young ladies’ procedures were completed a while back. They’ve been stored in the morgue for some time. I had them brought in here to compare their injuries to Heather’s. I’ll return them to the morgue as soon as Heather’s report is finished. Then she’ll join them in there for the time being. We can’t release the bodies to the family or a funeral home until the investigation is complete. Until then, they’ll remain in cold storage. Mind you, the first two girls were frozen solid for who knows how long. In order to perform the autopsies, we had to keep them in a refrigerator for about a week to thaw slowly and evenly. I apologize if this is too much medical information, agents.”

  J.T. gave her the go-ahead nod.

  “Well, if left out at room temperature to thaw, their skin and muscle tissue would have deteriorated before the organs thawed. It’s purely science, but I needed all of the body to be the same temperature to perform an accurate autopsy. Heather’s body, on the other hand, hadn’t been exposed to the weather for very long. For her, two days in the refrigerator was sufficient. Hence, the reason her autopsy was performed today. Give me one moment to cover the girls properly, agents.”

  J.T. and I turned our backs and walked to the other side of the room.

  “Okay, we’re good.”

  We returned to the first drawer, where Corrine’s body lay. Dr. Felder had already unzipped the body bag and had Corinne’s private areas covered with white towels. The doctor pointed out the blackened area on the right side of Corrine’s neck, where the blood had been drained.

  “The same type of bruising is at her femoral artery, as is with the other girls too. What that tells me is the blood was drained while they were alive. Now, if you take a closer look, you can see pinching and light bruising on her forearms and across her upper chest. The same marks are found at her shins. The width of the marks leads me to think they’re from straps.”

  I glanced at the autopsy tables.

  Dr. Felder smiled. “And no, Agent Monroe, we don’t strap down our deceased patients.”

  “Sorry, just natural curiosity kicking in. What kind of table would have straps on it?”

  “No autopsy or embalming table would in its natural state. I’m sure the table has been altered to fit the needs of the killer unless the table’s a gurney. They have straps built into them. Earlier, you asked about the condition of the bodies, Agent Monroe. When a body is found in the elements, temperature fluctuation wreaks havoc on skin, as do birds, foxes, coyotes, and feral animals. Corrine and Taylor’s bodies were found in very poor condition, which is obvious. Luckily their faces were intact and in decent enough shape for the parents to make a positive identification. They weren’t shown anything below the chins.”

  I thought back to all of the bodies that had been located outside during my years in law enforcement. I had seen it all. “At least during the winter the bodies are somewhat preserved.”

  The doctor agreed. “So you’ve obviously seen how bad summer discoveries look?”

  I gave J.T. a sideways glance. “Unfortunately, we both have.”

  “Also, all of the girls were brought in nude, so I imagine that was the way they were disposed of. It could have been a way to lessen the chances of an ID from what the girls were last seen wearing or simply because the killer didn’t want clothing in his way.”

  I asked if there were signs of sexual assault on any of the girls. The doctor assured us there weren’t.

  She continued. “As you can see, the pads of their fingers have been burned away.”

  “And that was done postmortem?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Thankfully, yes. It looks like the killer might have dipped the fingers in acid and, excuse my bluntness, let them stew for a while.”

  “I can’t even begin to understand that. All of the girls were identified, though, because of the missing persons reports filed on them, and their DNA.”

  Dr. Felder shook her head. “I can’t help you understand the motivation of a crazy person. If I tried to get into the minds of every killer, I’d go insane myself.”

  “I agree, and that’s our job, anyway. Are there any other similarities or differences between the girls?” J.T. moved on to the open drawer with Taylor, and the doctor showed us her similar wounds.

  “Only that they were all young, Caucasian, and close to the same original weight. They lived in the metro Gary area, according to the police, and seem to be from the same economic and social backgrounds.”

  We approached a sheet-covered Heather. Her feet were exposed, and a toe tag hung from her right foot.

  Dr. Felder lowered the sheet. “She looks better than the other two simply because the animals and weather conditions hadn’t done a number on her yet. She does wear the same injuries, nonetheless.”

  I took in a deep breath. “I guess that’s all we needed to know and see. The police department has your findings on Corrine and Taylor, correct?”

  “Yes they do, and
I’ll be forwarding my findings on Heather to them before the end of the day.”

  J.T. shook her hand. “We certainly appreciate the time you’ve given us.” He pulled a card out of his inner pocket and handed it to her. “Please don’t hesitate to call if anything else comes to mind. We’ll show ourselves out.”

  We left the building having gained a short tutorial on autopsy protocol and an idea of what Heather had for lunch on the last day of her life.

  Chapter 8

  Sam thought twice about leaving Molly’s car at the trailhead parking lot, but he didn’t know which car was actually hers. He had taken the keys out of her pocket before rolling her in through the van’s side door. Several miles from the trail, as he zigzagged through random neighborhoods, he pulled over and deposited the keys into a curbside garbage can. Then he continued toward home.

  With a short grunt, he snugged the last strap over her body. “There, that should do it for now. I’ll get back to you later.” Sam turned off the light, crossed the garage, and went back into the house. The GHB would wear off in a few hours, but he wouldn’t begin the blood draw until later that night. He wanted all of the drug out of Molly’s system before he transfused her blood into his mother. He rapped on Adeline’s bedroom door with his fist.

  “Come in, honey.”

  The door creaked open, and he poked his head through. “How are you doing, Mom?”