“Oh, I will,” Karen said, dabbing at her eyes. “If not for you two, I wouldn’t be sitting here 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 time 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 5 Book 3
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 was 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 that 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 around Bayliss, it got crowded pretty quick. Joining Skye 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 that 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. Last, 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 the 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. Unfortunately 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, their 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?”
&nbs
p; 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 we 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. 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 as 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.”
“If that happens, then perhaps we could find a forensic artist to do a facial reconstruction for a missing person flyer. Maybe identify her that way,” Skye suggested. “If we get no DNA match we should at least try to find out who she is.”
Hennings nodded. “If that turns out to be the case, then I know an excellent one we could use. Only problem is she’s in Hawaii.”
“What about the hand?” Skye persisted. “It seems to me that it’s been kept in a different kind of environment entirely than the other bones.”
Hennings’s eyebrows darted up. “Why do you say that?”
“Because there’s no dirt on the hand like there is on the rest.” Skye reached in her pocket for a ballpoint pen, used it as a pointer. “You can see the dirt around the eye socket and the femur. Plus, I think the hand indicates our killer must’ve parted with a treasured trophy to make his point. It was never buried.”
Clearly impressed, Hennings said, “Very observant.” He moved over to a forensic compound microscope, an ultraviolet light where he could inspect the skull even further. He adjusted the lens, punched in several strings on a keyboard so that the image appeared on a digital monitor for everyone to see.
“Why use the ultraviolet light?” Josh asked.
“So we pick up any other type of matter clinging to the bone. As Skye’s already pointed out there is no flesh left on the skull, just dirt, no skin or tissue. Proof that at one time there was a major difference in where the bones from the first box were kept versus where the hand was stored. See the dirt particles embedded in the teeth. Your sender didn’t bother to clean the skull up too well before he packed it inside the box. It definitely shows that at one time the bones he mailed spent time underground. We might be able to do a study of the soil found on them, but we’ll save that for later.”
Hennings picked up the mummified hand, slid it under the light. “As you can see there are no particles like that on the hand. In that regard, it’s fairly pristine for a macerated specimen. Using this, we can also detect skin or hair or other matter more readily under ultraviolet light and get DNA from it. And see, right here is a piece of skin tissue. This’ll make an excellent source to find usable DNA. Let me show you what I mean.”
Hennings picked up another bone, this time the femur. “I’ve already measured the thigh bone. The length is forty-one centimeters or a little over sixteen inches. Because of the size, I’d say this person was no more than five feet, four inches in height. Now in the event the femur and the hand are from two different victims, I can take a small sample of bone from the femur, grind it to a powder, extract DNA and try to piece together as much as I can from this person’s genetic profile.”
Hennings scanned the femur under the light. “See how thin the bone is. I’m going out on a limb here and say female. Males tend to have thicker thigh bones than this.” Just as he was about to remove it from under the microscope and pick up the tibia, something on the bone caught his eye. “This is highly irregular.”
“What’s that?” Skye asked. Focusing on the area in question, she stared up at the magnified image on the screen overhead. “Wait. It looks like there’s something crudely etched into the bone. Any chance of making that area in the middle any larger?”
Hennings nodded and then complied by magnifying the small area until the numbers and words jumped off the monitor.
5/8/93 #1 Catch me or let me continue to walk free.
Skye exchanged looks with Josh. “This is what he wanted me to see,” Skye reasoned.
“Gotta be the date of the first victim,” Josh said half aloud. “I don’t see it as anything else.”
“That’s my guess, too. Busy boy. If his first victim was 1993 then we’re looking at over two decades worth of victims. How many do you suppose, Harry?”
“I’m getting too old for this,” Harry groaned in frustration. “Come on, Hennings. Let’s see if this bastard left us anything else.”
As instructed, Hennings began to inspect the rest of the bones under the ultraviolet light. After several minutes, he uttered, “There’s nothing here.”
“Sure there is,” Skye determined.
Josh nodded. “He wants Skye to know that he’s able to pick and choose. Dr. Bayliss already addressed the fact he sent specific bones of one victim he knew wouldn’t yield a cause of death, and the hand of another. This guy is far from stupid.”
“He’s gone all this time flying below anyone’s radar. He used the hand for shock value, nothing more. Since it’s likely from another victim it tells us there are more out there, which is why he sent it. He’s showing off,” Skye muttered.
“So what have we got other than the fact he’s a serial and he dismembers his victims?” Harry asked.
Dawson cleared his throat again. “But you’re under a misconception, detective. Your killer didn’t dismember the first bones he sent Skye.”
Skye’s smile faded. “He didn’t?”
“No. He simply waited until the bones had been in the ground long enough for the soft tissue to breakdown and decomposition was complete. The bones were all he has left of this victim. He simply utilized what he had on hand.”
“But I thought…we all assumed…”
“Now the hand, the hand was dismembered from the arm. See the cut marks. He nicked t
he wrist bone, here.”
There wasn’t a lot of room to pace, but Skye did her best. She turned to the high bank of windows, walked there and back again and retraced her steps.
“Okay, so he keeps them for a period of time, days or perhaps weeks, tortures them while he has them bound and at his mercy before he decides to end their life,” Skye advised. “At some point, depending on his mood, he cuts them up or not. Is that about right?”
Hennings nodded. “He wanted to show you the disparity from one victim to the other.”
“Sick bastard,” Josh muttered. “Could I touch one of the bones? Anyone of them will do.”
“Sure, you have your gloves on so it should be okay,” Hennings agreed, handing Josh the shinbone.
The minute Josh held it in his hand, the montage of images blitzed through his head. “He doesn’t live alone. He has family, has people close to him. His personal torture chamber is isolated which means he probably has access to a second home.”
“You mean like a cabin with a cellar, or something like that?” Skye asked.
Josh shook his head. “I don’t know, not exactly. I don’t know,” he repeated. “But something major has recently triggered his need for attention. Whether it was something he saw in the news or something else, he’s blown away by the fact that he’s never gotten his just due. He’s fed up at the cops for not connecting his numbers. For some reason he’s decided his ego needs stroking. He wants to play.”
“BTK did that. It’ll be his downfall,” Skye surmised.
“Let’s hope,” Josh sent a distressed look at Harry. “In your favor, the cops may never have connected his victims because he may not have left many in a location where you could easily find them. Plus, he grabs them from various jurisdictions. The good guys don’t connect the dots and he keeps doing what he does best. And if he ever did leave a victim where she could be found, it had to be in the early years. He’s kept on killing and evolved. But now I think he’ll change his method.”
Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 Page 59
