Dead, Without a Stone to Tell It

by Jen J. Danna

  He seemed to consider her request, and then wordlessly shifted to his right, making room for her to perch on the boulder beside him.

  She settled beside him, laying her clipboard down on the ground. “Rowe doesn’t need me hanging over his shoulder while he does his job. I’m giving him some space for a few minutes.” They sat in silence, both of them staring at the dirt at their feet before Leigh finally spoke. “How’s the arm?”

  “It hurt less before your medic started digging around for threads and pouring disinfectant all over it. Now it burns like a bitch.”

  “I bet.” She turned to face his stony profile. “I’m sorry, Matt. I know you wanted it left alone, but I needed to know you were taken care of.”

  “I don’t like being ordered around,” he said shortly. “I left the military. I’m done taking orders.”

  “Okay, maybe I overstepped. But do you understand that it was because I was concerned? You were shot for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” he said sarcastically.

  Silence hung heavily between them again.

  Leigh frowned. How were they going to be able to work together if they kept pissing each other off at least once a day? Then it hit her. If he can do it, so can I.

  Impulsively, she stuck out her hand.

  His gaze skittered sideways and then rose to her face. “What’s that?”

  “Hi,” she said with an almost comical forced cheer. “I’m Leigh.”

  His eyebrows rose skyward, but a glint of humor lit his eyes for the first time that day. “What’s this, a ‘do over’?”

  “You had one, so now it’s my turn.”

  He gave a rueful chuckle and took her hand. “Hi, I’m Matt.”

  “We have to figure out how to stop getting under each other’s skin.”

  “We’re good at that, aren’t we?”

  “Too good.” They each released their grip, letting their hands fall back into their laps. “New rules,” she said. “I think we’ve proven to each other at this point that we both have the best interests of the case at heart. We just need to avoid irritating each other so we can get the job done. So, how about we both reserve the right to call for a time-out when we start annoying the hell out of each other? The discussion ends right then, at least temporarily. Either of us can call it, and both of us have to respect it, no questions asked. That will let one or both of us cool down before things get out of control.”

  “That could work. Maybe this way we’ll make it out of this case without wanting to kill each other,” he said dryly.

  Leigh chuckled. “I’d like to think it wouldn’t come to that.” She slumped forward with a tired sigh. “I need to ask you about what you might have seen earlier. I couldn’t see the suspect at all when he was shooting at us. Then when we went after him, he ran into the marsh instead of heading toward the mainland. By the time I caught up to you, he was already gone.”

  “You didn’t expect that, did you? You thought he’d head back across the swamp toward the road. I noticed which direction you sent me.” He pinned her with a narrowed glare.

  “I had to make a fast decision and I didn’t know you’d be able to handle yourself. But you know what? You were great out there today. You kept your head and you knew what to do without any explanation or instruction from me. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in that moment.”

  A smile slowly curved Matt’s lips. “Thanks. I thought that I might be a bit rusty—I’ve been a civilian for years now—but apparently it’s just one of those things that you don’t forget.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What happened back there when we first came into the clearing?”

  Only because she was watching carefully did Leigh catch Matt’s physical reaction as his pupils dilated slightly and some of the color slowly drained from his face.

  He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do,” she insisted. “You were standing there looking at the body, but I don’t think you really saw it. In fact, for a brief instant, you weren’t ‘there’ at all.”

  For the briefest instant, Leigh thought she spotted something akin to panic in his eyes. Reaching out, she laid a gentle hand on his wrist. “Whatever happened back there, it’s okay. You’re not a cop, and I can’t expect you to be accustomed to this kind of thing. But I need to know if there are situations I can’t bring you into.”

  “I’m used to working with bones.” He turned his face away to stare into the depths of the forest. “I don’t do flesh.”

  “You were caught off guard because it was a fleshed body?” Leigh tried unsuccessfully to keep the disbelief from her voice. “You told me you worked at two body farms during your training. You must be used to fleshed bodies.”

  He fussed with the shirt draped over his knee, lifting it to resettle it in the same position. “There’s a big difference between a fresh body—or relatively fresh like that woman—and a body that’s been buried for a year or left on the surface for insects to colonize for a month or two. Those bodies aren’t really fleshed. In many cases, they’re hardly recognizable. Or the remains are skeletonized.”

  Not the whole story. Not by a long shot, Leigh thought. But now is not the time to push.

  She smoothly changed topics to draw him out again. “Back to the suspect. Did you see anything that might be useful in a description?”

  Matt looked mildly relieved to get back to the business at hand. “Not much. Based on what I could see over the top of the marsh grass, he’s maybe five ten or eleven. Dark hair. From the way he moved, I’m almost certain it was a man, but I couldn’t swear to that in a court of law because he was concealed by the marsh grasses.” He shook his head, frowning. “That’s about it. I didn’t get a good look at him. About the best view I had was when I was on the hill above him but then he shot at me and I dove into the marsh grass for cover.” Suddenly his head snapped up. “The gun.”

  Interest flared in Leigh at the sudden energy in his tone. “What about it?”

  “I saw sunlight gleam silver on the barrel when he aimed at me. Only a limited number of guns have that kind of finish. Most handguns and revolvers are matte black.”

  “You’re right. That’s a good catch because that will narrow our matches. And your limited description of him is better than I could’ve done. The techs have bagged the shovel he brought to the scene to dig the grave. Maybe if we’re lucky, he’s left us some fingerprints or epithelials to use for DNA identification.”

  “If he was smart, he wore gloves. And even if he didn’t, you still need an existing sample to compare that DNA with. If he’s not already in the system, we’d have to wait until we’ve actually caught him to pull a sample for comparison.” Matt’s gaze returned to the body in the clearing and the man kneeling next to it. “Is there an initial guess on cause of death?”

  “So far all I’ve got is the estimate that she’s been dead for three to four days. Which reminds me, I meant to ask you—when you stopped me earlier, before the shooting, you said that you could smell something. What was it?”

  “I could smell the decomp gases, putrescine in particular, coming from the body. It’s been a while since I’ve set foot on a body farm, but it’s not something you forget easily.”

  “Abbott!” Across the clearing, Rowe rose to his feet, stripping off a bloody pair of latex gloves.

  Leigh immediately stood, picking up her clipboard before glancing down at Matt. “He’s done his on-site examination and he’ll need to get the body ready for transport. Can you tell your students once I’m done here, I’ll need their official statements? Yours too.”

  “Yeah.” He tipped his head in the direction of the scene. “Go. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  Across the clearing, the naked body lay completely exposed now, and Leigh winced at the sheer brutality of the injuries. The pale flesh was smeared with dark blood, and multiple lacerations and g
aping stab wounds were visible, as well as the dark discoloration of large areas from bruising. The hair on one side of her head was tangled and matted with blood, and there were several small circular burns visible on one arm. Narrow strips of skin were peeled from the body to hang in limp, bloody ribbons.

  “What can you give me so far?” she asked Rowe, pulling out her notepad.

  “Nothing official until I can do the full autopsy, but at this point I’d suggest the cause of death was asphyxiation by manual strangulation, judging from the bruising of the throat and the petechial hemorrhage of the conjunctiva.” Rowe’s face was set in harsh lines as he considered the broken body at their feet. “But this woman went through significant trauma before she was finally allowed the peace of death. I should be able to give you detailed information about what was done to her when the autopsy is complete. Maybe that will give you a way to track him.”

  “Good. I want to get this bastard.”

  “You and me both. I’m not sure if this was a rage killing or just for kicks. Either way, someone brutalized this woman.”

  “Just get me what you can and we’ll take it from there. You’re transporting her now?”

  “Yes. My tech just went for the body bag.”

  “Will you have time to do the autopsy today?”

  “I’ll make time.” Rowe’s words came out sharply, but Leigh knew that it wasn’t directed at her. “Can you be there?”

  “I’ll make time.” Leigh echoed Rowe’s own words.

  Suddenly one of the crime scene techs broke through the trees on the north side of the clearing. “Abbott!” Leigh whirled to see him frantically motioning her to follow. “You need to come now. And bring your bone guy.”

  Rowe immediately waved her off. “I’ve got this.”

  Leigh turned to locate Matt across the clearing. He had obviously heard the call as he was already on his feet and pulling on his plaid shirt, grimacing in pain as his movements tugged at raw flesh.

  Matt skirted the scene, meeting Leigh on the far side. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “No idea.”

  The thin, dark-haired man led them into the trees, talking to them over his shoulder. “You guys need to see this. A couple of us were heading back to the mainland to where we were parked further north on Conomo Point Road. We were going to cut through the marsh from here.” His eyes searching the trees, he finally spotted a second technician that he had left to mark the area. They moved through the trees until they approached a woman dressed in a similar windbreaker, her long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, the ends dancing in the breeze.

  Leigh instantly recognized the technician from previous casework. “Franklin, what did you find?” she called out.

  Meg Franklin held out an arm, blocking them from going any further. “This. You were here searching for human remains, right? Well, we found some.”

  Leigh heard Matt’s sharp indrawn breath even as she looked into the clearing beyond where they stood. Shock slammed into her like a physical blow to the gut.

  Protruding eerily from the soil were bones from several sets of remains, spaced several feet apart. In one spot, the smooth surface of the brow ridge of a skull disappeared into the dark earth. Nearby, several curving bones of a rib cage arched out of the soil like the ribs of the hull of an ancient schooner, dried bands of desiccated muscle and ligament linking the bones together. Several feet from that, the rounded head of a long bone angled upward and several tiny bones lay scattered on the surface next to an embedded fan of long, narrow bones. A hand? A foot?

  There must be at least three, or maybe even four more bodies revealed by the storm surge.

  For how many years had this small island cradled the dead? And how had so many come to rest here?

  One set of excavated remains.

  At least three more bodies here.

  The murdered woman lying in the clearing.

  Leigh glanced at Matt to see the same horror she felt reflected in his eyes as he stared back at her.

  At least five dead. Maybe more.

  What other horrors could this place possibly hold?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: SALT MARSH DETRITUS

  Salt Marsh Detritus: dead and decomposing plant and animal material that forms the organic mat at the base of the marsh, and constitutes an important part of the local food chain.

  Wednesday, 12:19 P.M.

  Office of the Chief Medical Examiner

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Leigh hurried down the hallway, her arms full of Missing Persons files. She glanced at her watch, grimaced at the time, and pushed through the wide single door with her shoulder.

  The autopsy suite was all gleaming stainless steel, sterile white tile and bright lighting. A large stainless steel downdraft table was the centerpiece of the room; the female victim lay stretched out on its surface.

  Gowned and flanked by a morgue assistant, Rowe bent over the woman’s body, scalpel in hand, ready to start the Y-incision. Standing across from Rowe was Meg Franklin, waiting to photograph every step of the procedure.

  Rowe raised his head at the sound of the door opening. “Ah … I was hoping that you’d get here before I started cutting. Better that you see this in person than just in photographs.”

  “Sorry,” Leigh’s voice was breathless. “I had to stop and pick up the Missing Persons files back at the office and then the traffic coming into town on Route 1 was a nightmare.”

  Rowe set his scalpel down on the draped tray of surgical instruments. “Route 1 is always a nightmare. Don’t these damned people have jobs to keep them indoors during the day? No one seems to know when rush hour is, anymore.” He shook his head in disgust. “What’s going on back at the site? I left the new burials in Lowell’s hands, but I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Dr. Lowell and his team are up there right now. Sergeant Kepler stopped by after you left and he gave us the green light to bring in a K-9 team.”

  Rowe nodded approvingly. “Sensible. At this point, we need to know if we’ve identified all of the burial sites.”

  “They’ll go over the area this afternoon and mark out any new graves. Dr. Lowell wants to start the excavation this afternoon, even if it’s only taking the graves down a few inches to see what they’ve got. I’ll head back up there after we’re done here, so I’ll call you later to update you on their progress.”

  “Works for me. Put those down for a minute,” he said, indicating the stack of files she held in her arms. “Come and take a closer look.”

  Leigh set the files on the counter and then, taking a deep breath, turned to face the now clean body of the victim.

  The sight hit her like a physical blow and she just managed to hold back a gasp of shock. Even with all the death she’d seen during previous investigations, she’d never seen cruelty like this. “Sweet Jesus. What did he do to her?”

  “The question might be more ‘what didn’t he do to her’? All the years I’ve been cutting, and this still manages to stretch the boundaries of what I’ve seen in a single victim.”

  Leigh forced herself to move closer to the table and examine the victim, taking in each wound. The injuries seemed horrific at the crime scene, but there had been so much blood it had actually camouflaged the true extent of the damage. Over half of the woman’s body was marked—bruises, abrasions, slices, jagged tears in the skin, punctures, and even small burns.

  With effort, Leigh forced herself to consider each wound. Many appeared to be knife wounds but there were some circular ones that didn’t have the typical appearance of a bullet entry. There were stab wounds of various sizes—he must have used a variety of knives or other implements, including a hunting or skinning knife to peel skin from muscle. The burns could have been from a cigarette or maybe a small butane torch.

  She leaned in to examine one particular bruise that cut a straight diagonal swath from hip to opposite breast. The bruise undulated as it traversed the deathly white skin.

  “I’m not sure what
caused that yet. It’s an odd configuration.” Rowe spoke from behind her.

  Leigh couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the pattern seemed familiar. Not a rope, not a wire—those would leave straight, solid lines. It had to be something that would leave intermittent marks. She leaned in to study the mark more closely, then suddenly jerked upright. “Chain links. Someone whipped her with a metal chain.”

  Rowe’s eyes went ice cold. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. “What is wrong with this world?” He met Leigh’s shadowed eyes. “Don’t answer that. We haven’t got all day. Let me give you the initial rundown. Chris”—Rowe indicated his assistant—“recovered any trace evidence that we missed at the scene and took fingerprints and x-rays, including a full set of dentals to compare to antemortem x-rays if we can get them. The radiographs show no antemortem healed bone breaks, so we don’t have that as a method of identification. Blood and urine were sampled for tox screening. The potassium level of vitreous fluid sampled from the eye will confirm time since death.

  “The victim is female, approximately twenty-five to thirty-five years of age, white, five-feet, five inches in height. She currently weighs one hundred and thirty-seven pounds, but keep in mind that ongoing decomposition makes that an approximation of her original weight. There are no surgical scars or piercings other than her ears, but there is a distinctive tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder blade that may aid in identification.”

  “I think I saw something about a butterfly tattoo in my scan through the files while I was sitting in traffic.” At Rowe’s pointed look, she said defensively, “I was in a rush, so I was making use of the time I had. I’ll check the files once we’re done here. Go on.”

  “Each individual defect has been numbered, measured, photographed, and described, and full details will be in the autopsy report. We’ll be adding the corresponding internal details now. All injuries are perimortem and show signs of hemorrhage, meaning they all occurred prior to cardiac death. I anticipate additional blunt force trauma will be evident in the internal organs when we move to the internal exam.