Chapter 27 Dominique #2
Kobe’s smile faltered at the bite in my tone.
He didn’t retreat, though, and pushed his luck, stepping closer and lowering his voice.
“Dom, this is huge. This is more than escalation. It shows our unsub is rapidly devolving. The timeline between kills has already been far shorter than we usually see in a serial, but this…” He scanned the terrain.
“There are signs of a struggle this time. This kill didn’t go as planned at all. Let me show you.”
Kobe reached for my arm, but I jerked away, keenly aware of other people looking on. “Detective Haven, I won’t ask you again. If you don’t comply with my request, I will have you removed from the scene, as is my right, until I have completed my examination.”
Danica glanced between us, clearly uncomfortable.
They were not my rules. They were procedure, and Kobe knew it.
My role as a forensic pathologist meant I was the first person to access the body and document the evidence.
I instructed the CSI photographers to ensure a thorough and complete set of images was taken.
It was up to me to determine the mode, means, and cause of death, even in a case like this where Kobe took for granted that he had all the answers.
Danica, along with the rest of the crime scene investigators, would further mark every identifiable piece of evidence, from a footprint to a fallen coin. Then, and only then, could Kobe enter and assess the scene.
A detective’s role in an investigation came last. They used everyone else’s information to form theories and chase down suspects.
For that reason, it was imperative that all resources were used, and all evidence was gathered and documented correctly.
With such a disturbed scene, I needed to have first access.
If a detective didn’t abide by protocol, I was within my rights to authorize his removal.
I didn’t want to be an ass, but I still harbored a tiny seed of distrust when it came to Kobe the Cop and his motives at the end of the day.
Sharing a bed didn’t exempt him from following the rules.
Clearly stung by my harsh words, Kobe nodded and backed off. I sensed his perturbation and felt instantly guilty for snapping.
It wasn’t the time for a conversation. Besides, I didn’t know how to explain myself, and it was freezing. I didn’t want to be out there any longer than was necessary.
I got to work, instructing Danica through several photographs as I visually scanned the dead man, noting his positioning, his visible wounds, and the surrounding terrain. The man was naked, like the previous two, but the attempt at presentation had failed on several levels.
The man’s complexion was so bloodless, his skin had turned papery white with a faint tinge of blue. It nearly matched the landscape. Snow coated his dark hair and clung to his bare shoulders. Crystalized flakes stuck to his lashes. His open eyes stared at nothing, their color a washed-out gray.
Curious, I crouched to examine him more closely and touched one of his hands to see if I could uncurl his fingers. I couldn’t. They were stiff, and based on the darkening tips, it wasn’t rigor. The man had been outside long enough in the subzero temperatures that he had turned to a block of ice.
“How long has he been out here, do you think?” Kobe shouted from a distance away, where he paced, looking on.
I didn’t respond and located the thermometer in my carrier. Using a scalpel, I attempted to make an incision to access the liver but was unsuccessful. “He’s frozen solid,” I announced to no one and everyone.
Moving on, I inspected the deep gashes around the ligature mark on his neck. He had gouged several trenches with his fingernails as he’d tried and failed to free himself from the strangling noose, which had deprived him of oxygen.
Danica took photographs.
The corpse’s hands were not positioned on his lap like the others—in supplication—and he had slumped sideways, not quite falling over, but it was close.
Other clear marks littered his skin, standing out starkly against his colorless frame.
A graze along the knuckles of his right hand. A gash on the top of the left.
“Defensive wounds,” Kobe shouted as I examined them.
Again, I ignored him.
The flower spike lay on the ground, the rose beside it, damaged.
A few petals had come off. The main body of the flower was crushed.
Stepped on. Shreds of tree bark decorated the snow next to it.
A perforation in the penis indicated where the spike had once been inserted—not under the crown like the other two we had discovered, but lower on the shaft and slightly off center. A rush job that didn’t stick.
I stared at the violation for a long time before waving Danica in for a picture.
Kobe was right. The scene was a mess.
The man’s clothing lay in a heap beside the body, unfolded, discarded without care.
Sleek black trousers, the pressed seam down the legs still visible.
An expensive white dress shirt and undershirt.
A trendy leather jacket. A bloodred tie poked out from the bottom of the pile.
Polished black dress shoes, unsuitable for the weather, lay haphazardly a few feet away, socks balled up inside.
“The wallet is on the ground by his leg,” Kobe said, closer than before.
“I’m aware.” I didn’t give him hell for approaching. What was the point? I’d performed my examination of the body. I’d collected my evidence and taken plenty of notes. Danica had photographed everything as instructed. I might as well let Kobe take over.
I gave him the okay to proceed, but hung close, taking in details and listening as he talked through his own discoveries.
His analytical brain interested me. It had from the day I met him.
He picked up on things others missed, and I was curious what he would find.
The entire time he surveyed the scene, I remained alert, never taking my eyes off him, listening to him mutter and talk it out.
He started with the fallen rose and the note that lay face down in the snow. Using gloved fingers, he plucked it from the ground and turned it over. The ink had smeared from the wet terrain, but the words were still mostly legible.
“A cocky manipulator,” Kobe read. He glanced at the perforation in the frozen man’s penis. “That’s three of the four who were speared through the dick. I’m more and more convinced this is vengeance for a sexual assault.”
He replaced the note and examined the crushed rose and flakes of tree bark. “Our perp was in a hurry or rattled. Something didn’t go as planned. We have a partial boot tread. Was it photographed?”
“Of course it was.” I aimed for a leveler tone, needing to calm down.
“Good.”
He turned his attention to the wounds on the body’s pale flesh. “He fought back. I don’t think our unsub walked away unharmed this time. We need to swab for DNA.”
“We always do.”
“There’s got to be something left behind.
Look at his knuckles. He got in a hit.” Kobe motioned to the man’s other hand.
“This could be from a tooth. Maybe he swung his arm backward, trying to dislodge the attacker, and caught them in the mouth. The shape is almost right.” Kobe mimicked how he thought it might have happened, as though I wasn’t following.
When I still didn’t offer commentary, he shifted, glancing up from his position squatting by the body. “Are you not talking to me now?”
I swallowed my anger and offered a tight smile. “Your theories are good. He fought back. Once he’s on the table, I can take samples.” I paused, then purposefully added, “You needed more evidence. It looks like you might have gotten your wish. Does that please you?”
Kobe frowned and stood. He approached, lowering his voice. “You’re mad at me.”
“No.”
“That’s a lie. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”
“If you compromise the scene, you compromise the investigation.” Is that what you want? I didn’t say.
Kobe studied me for a long time, then looked away. “You’re right. I’m impulsive, and this one is hot. I just… I got excited. I’m sorry.”
We stared at each other for a beat. Kobe’s wounded expression softened me. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” Glancing around, it dawned on me that his partner wasn’t present. “Where’s Detective Hayashi? Are you alone?”
“I am. Apparently, she’s been throwing up nonstop since last night. I guess her whole family ended up with a wretched case of food poisoning, and everyone is hugging a toilet. I told her I could handle it and I would call her later.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Finish up. It’s cold, and I want to get the body to the lab. He’ll need a few hours to thaw before I can properly examine him.”
Kobe returned to the dead man, taking stock of every detail.
When he got to the clothes, he narrowed his eyes contemplatively.
“Our perp stripped this guy and didn’t bother folding his clothes.
Yet, it’s the most secluded location they’ve used for a kill.
Especially around the holiday. It’s like they couldn’t leave fast enough or was interrupted. ”
He crouched and tipped his head to the side. “Fancy clothes, too. When do you think he died?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“How long does it take a body to freeze solid?”
“It depends on many factors.”
“Like?”
“The temperature of the environment. How protected he was.”
“Not very,” Kobe mused, glancing at the water in the distance. “He’s naked, and the wind off the lake is chilling. Best guess?”
“As little as eight to ten hours, likely longer.”
“He looks like he came from a party. Last night, maybe?”
“I couldn’t say precisely.”
Kobe retrieved the wallet and opened it, locating the driver’s license. “Malik Quinn.” Kobe huffed a humorless laugh. “Shocking. He’s another one of Jesse’s cohorts. Twenty… three, I think. Born in 2002. Does that math right?”
“Yes.” I almost smiled. A mathematician, Kobe was not.
“Detective,” a uniformed constable shouted from across the field. “We found an abandoned car registered to a—”
Kobe waved the wallet in the air, interrupting. “Malik Quinn. Yeah, thanks. Consider it evidence. Process the vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.”
To me, he asked, “Did we bag a phone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Kobe tucked the ID card back into the wallet and set it down where he’d found it. CSIs would bag and tag everything once Kobe left.
He rose halfway to standing before pausing and squatting again. Using a pinched grip with gloved fingers, he moved the man’s dress shirt aside, revealing more of the designer leather jacket that lay beneath.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He laughed and waved me over. “Doc, look at this.”
I approached, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end when I saw what he found.
How had I missed that? Had Danica seen it?
Did she get a picture? Kobe, his presence in my life, and the unfiltered comments I couldn’t seem to let go of must have scrambled my brain so badly that I was making mistakes.
I cursed and waved Danica over as I barked, “Don’t touch it,” to Kobe. “Did you get this?” I asked Danica.
“No, sir.”
Kobe held the garment so it could be photographed. Caught in the jacket’s zipper was a tangled snare of fabric that held the remnants of a single scarlet tassel. The same color as the fibers taken from the other victims.
“It looks like it’s from a woman’s scarf.” Kobe bent to get a closer look when Danica was finished.
“You’re speculating.”
“Maybe, but I bet I’m right.” I didn’t expect the low chuckle, but when Kobe turned to me, a wicked grin creased his eyes. “We hit the jackpot, Doc. There’s hair tangled in the tassel.”