Chapter 3
Tessa
“Damn. He’s young.”
Hugo stands beside me as we watch Buck Wilson—our local veterinarian who also acts as the county coroner—zip the victim into a body bag.
He’ll take the body to the morgue in the hospital basement for storage.
I’m not sure yet whether the sheriff will want the coroner to do the autopsy himself or whether we’re calling in Tom Richter, who is the medical examiner for a larger neighboring county.
With more hands-on experience with cases where foul play is a factor, he’s helped out before on autopsies.
“He is,” I confirm.
Not much older than one of my boys.
It makes me sick to my stomach to think there is a mother like me out there, about to plunge into a nightmare of epic proportions.
“Can you give us anything?” Hugo asks Buck Wilson after he helps load the body into his van and he turns to us.
He sighs heavily.
“Can’t be a hundred-percent sure, but given that his throat was obviously slit, and from what I could see of the rest of his injuries, I’d say the murder weapon you’re looking for is a knife, but I won’t be able to confirm or give more details until after the autopsy.”
“What do you think about calling in Richter for assistance?”
Buck nods at the deputy sheriff. “I was gonna suggest that myself. Want me to call him?”
“Please.”
“Let me know,” I pipe up. “I’d like to be present.”
Not that I’m a fan of the morgue or autopsies, far from it, but I’m eager to learn as much as I can about this boy and the way he met his gruesome end. Besides, this kid should have someone who cares about him present, and I care. Probably more than I should.
“Sure thing,” Wilson confirms with a nod before he closes the doors on the van.
Hugo is already thanking the search and rescue team who helped with the recovery of the victim.
As the coroner’s van drives off, I walk over to KC Kingma, one of our deputies.
He is also an experienced rock climber, and was sent down with the team to photograph and process the scene before they removed the body.
“No ID on him?” is my first question.
“Nothing in his pockets other than half a pack of gum. No phone, no ID, nothing identifiable. I took a few shots of his shoes and the treads. They’re older style Vans and from the way the soles were worn, I’d say he did some skateboarding.”
“Okay, good. It may help us narrow in on who this victim is. Let’s head back to the station and try to find out his identity. He looks too well-dressed to be a street kid, so someone is probably out there wondering where he is. We’ll start with missing persons reports.”
“Right behind you,” KC announces as I make my way back to the vehicles.
“Ryan Wells—seventeen, lives in Mead—was reported missing by his mother three weeks ago. This kid ticks all the boxes.”
I get up and walk over to KC’s desk, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the file he pulled up.
My heart sinks when I see the casual image of a teenage boy, a skateboard under his arm as he grins broadly at whoever is taking the picture.
I have no doubt it’s him, and it hurts my heart.
That mother lived in fear and hope for three weeks, and now has to be told that fear was justified and any hope is gone, along with her son.
“Dammit,” I mutter before adding, “Could you print me out a copy of that report?”
I wait for it to print out before I return to my desk.
Mead is a suburb of Spokane and falls under the jurisdiction of the Spokane County Sheriff’s Office rather than the Spokane Police Department.
I’ve worked alongside a lot of local law enforcement in and around Spokane, but don’t recognize the name of the officer who took the original report, but put a call in to the number provided.
“Haynes.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s having a good day, and I’m about to make it worse.
“Officer Haynes, this is Detective Tessa Androtti with the Edwards County Sheriff’s Department. I’m calling about a missing persons case, Ryan Wells. I think we may have found him.”
“Oh shit.”
“Looks like a homicide. We just recovered the body from the bottom of a canyon up in the mountains. Autopsy likely won’t be until tomorrow or Monday, but I was hoping you could provide dental records for a positive ID.”
“Goddammit. This is gonna kill his mother. She busted her ass to make sure her kids would have choices she didn’t have. That kid was slotted to graduate next year and go to college. What the hell happened?”
“Officer Haynes, I—”
“It’s Steve,” he interrupts.
“Okay, Steve, I’m not sure what happened yet, but a few weeks ago an abandoned late model Ford Mustang was found on a logging road up Black Mountain here in Edwards County.
The vehicle was reported stolen in Spokane, the Rockwood area.
The passenger side was covered in blood.
No sign of any victim. Earlier today I went back up to the location on a hunch, and found the body at the bottom of a steep cliff.
We had to call in a search and rescue crew to climb down and bring the body up.
Now, logic has me working from the assumption this is the victim from the stolen Mustang, but there is no way to be sure until we can get confirmation from the lab, which will be once the autopsy is done. ”
“Jesus. From the background I got on the kid, he wasn’t into anything bad.
No run-ins with law enforcement, no drugs or anything else that would’ve raised a flag.
When I asked Pam, Ryan’s mom, if she’d noticed any changes in his behavior, all she mentioned was that he’d been a little withdrawn and moody lately.
He’d suddenly quit baseball without discussing it with her first, which they argued about the last time she saw him.
He told her he had better things to do with his time than play a stupid game and took off.
She thought it might have to do with a girl, but now I wonder if he may have just gotten in with a bad crowd. ”
That poor mother, as if finding out her son won’t be coming home isn’t enough.
“Let’s first confirm we’re talking about the same person,” I caution. “Then we can start looking at possible scenarios, and I would greatly appreciate your assistance in that.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll get on those dental records as soon as I can, but it may not be until Monday. In the meantime, I’ll follow up with a couple of Ryan’s friends I spoke to earlier on. See if I can shake some more information loose about who he might have been hanging out with.”
“Fair enough, and I’ll give you an update on the autopsy as soon as I have information.”
I end the call after leaving him my number and email address, to find Hugo sitting on the edge of KC’s desk, both he and KC are looking at me.
“Think it’s him?” Hugo asks.
I lean back in my chair and nod somberly.
“Yeah. My gut says it is.”
Right now my gut is making loud complaints at having been neglected all day. I slap my hand on my stomach but that doesn’t stop Hugo from noticing.
“You haven’t stopped to eat, have you? Go home. It’s getting late, there’s nothing more you can do right now. Good work today though, good instincts,” he adds.
I can’t remember the last time I was told by a superior I was doing a good job. I’m not someone who needs constant reinforcement, but this compliment feels good.
Clem
“Looks like your mom is still at the station.”
I point to the Jeep Cherokee parked behind the sheriff’s station.
“I know,” Remi mumbles.
“Are you gonna hitch a ride with her?”
The responding snort gives me my answer but he still follows it up with, “I’ve got my bike.”
“You’re gonna get soaked,” I point out.
“Don’t care.”
Stubborn snot.
His attitude hasn’t improved much, but he did work his skinny butt off today.
He was determined to finish all six oil changes I had slotted for the weekend.
It gave me time to fix the two vehicles he vandalized, and I was even able to duck into my office for a couple of hours to catch up on paperwork I’d been ignoring.
He is the last one here—the others already left for the day—but I don’t want the kid to ride his bike home in this downpour. Aside from him getting wet, that bike of his doesn’t have any proper lighting and wouldn’t exactly be safe on slick roads with limited visibility.
Lord knows, his mom doesn’t need anything else to get pissed with me about.
“Look, I’ve gotta pick up a couple of things at the grocery store anyway. Toss your bike in the back of my pickup while I grab a coat, and I’ll drop you off at home.”
I don’t give him a chance to object and take the stairs two steps at a time to fetch my coat, wallet, and keys. By the time I have the place locked down and head outside, Remi’s bike is in the back of my truck, and the kid is sitting in the passenger seat.
I’ve barely pulled away from the firehouse when he pipes up.
“Why are you doing this?”
I glance over, but the boy’s eyes are fixed on the road.
“What am I doing?”
“Being nice and shit. Telling my mom I work for you. Driving me home.”
I chuckle. “Kid, I’m not nice, I’m not that stupid.
I would’ve still been stuck fixing those rides you vandalized, plus I would’ve had to do all those damn oil changes myself, if I’d have turned you in.
Trust me, this arrangement is not charity.
Neither is making sure you get home in one piece, since I’m pretty sure your mom would have my balls if anything happened to you under my watch. I’m looking out for myself here.”
This time when I glance at him, he’s looking at me. Then he slowly shakes his head and rolls his eyes, making it clear he doesn’t buy into a word I’m saying.
“What were you gonna do with them?” I ask, changing the subject.
“With what?”
“Don’t be dense,” I snap. “You know what I’m talking about. The parts, what was the plan? Did someone put you up to it?”
His answer is a firm, “No.”
“Then what? You were just gonna put them on Marketplace?”
From the corner of my eyes, I catch him shrugging.