Chapter 5
The coroner’s office sat tucked behind the county building, a white structure with faded paint and a single palm tree leaning over the entrance. I pushed the door open and stepped into the familiar hallway, greeted by the muted thrum of heavy-metal music booming through a half-closed door ahead.
Silas Crowe never strayed from the genre of music he liked.
Some people found it jarring.
I found it comforting.
It meant he was here, moving through his familiar rhythm, settled in the strange peace he always found among the dead.
I stepped into the lab and saw Silas standing over a stainless-steel table, his loose, long hair pulled back, face mask looped around his neck.
Today, he was dressed in his usual attire: cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a long white button-up shirt with blue and yellow striped fish and pineapples all over it.
His surfboard was leaned against the far wall, waxed and ready for another playdate with the ocean.
He looked up at me and smiled. “Hey, Gigi. Just got off the phone with Foley. I figured you’d end up involved in this case.”
He lowered the volume of the music and motioned to the chair near his desk. “Take a seat, and I’ll walk you through what I know.”
I sat.
Silas reached for a file and slid it toward me.
“Holly died from a gunshot wound to the chest. The entry point sits just below the collarbone, straight through the soft tissue.”
“She was shot at close range,” I said.
“The shooter was less than a foot away when she was shot. The burn pattern around the wound shows powder tattooing. You don’t get that unless the muzzle sits right near the skin.
” He tapped the folder with his finger. “The round traveled clean through. Small caliber. My guess is a .22 or .25. I won’t be certain until Ballistics finishes their report. ”
“Were there any other marks on her body?”
He nodded. “Someone grabbed her so hard it left a bruise. The patterns line up with thumb pressure on the inside of her upper arm. One hand. Large grip strength. No distinct fingerprints though, which leads me to believe the killer wore gloves.”
“Large grip strength points to a man.”
“Or a strong larger woman.”
I spent the next few minutes studying the file. “Did you find any other bruising on her body?”
“Yeah, on her left cheek. The knuckles made a shallow arc here.” He traced a line along his own cheekbone. “You can tell from the bruising pattern. The bone took the initial blow.”
I swallowed hard, picturing the moment of impact in my mind. “Seems like she never had a chance to save herself. Were there any signs of defensive wounds?”
“None,” he said. “We found no skin under the nails and no marks on the hands.”
Silas went quiet and his eyes softened the way they always did when he reflected on a case he was working on.
“I bet she was terrified at the end,” he said. “Her pupils show dilation that lines up with a fast adrenaline spike.”
“What does that tell you?”
“She didn’t expect the attack,” he said. “Someone stepped into her space, grabbed her, and shot her before she had much time to process what was happening.”
I stared at the folder, at the pictures that offered a chilling representation of the events she endured just before her death.
“There’s something else I want to point out,” he said. “The bruising on her arm wasn’t uniform. At some point the killer either adjusted their hold or let her go and then grabbed her a second time.”
I reached for the folder, riffling through the photos to get a better look. “Maybe the killer grabbed her the first time, and then a second time right before she died, perhaps saying something to her before she was shot.”
“Any idea why someone wanted her dead?”
“After her mother died, Holly found some paperwork that indicated she’d been adopted, which came as a shock. It’s possible her murder is tied to it. I think she was digging into the past, and someone didn’t like it.”
“I know you, Gigi,” he said. “Even on day one of a case, you’re ten steps down the road, and you already have a plan.”
Not a full plan, but one was forming.
“I intend to find her birth parents and figure out why her adoption was kept a secret,” I said.
“I have no doubt you’ll have answers to your questions sooner than later. But if you’re right, and looking into her past got her killed, you’re putting a target on your back.”
I shot him a wink. “Aren’t I always?”
I pushed the folder back in his direction. “Thanks for sharing this with me. I have one last question before I go.”
“Shoot.”
“Is there any chance Celia’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“If you’re asking if she was pushed, I don’t believe so. The trajectory of her fall matched what we see when someone trips on a step and goes down the way she did. She fell from the second step, to be exact.”
“I thought as much, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Even though Celia’s death seemed cut and dry, I processed her to the fullest, just like I would anyone else.”
“I have no doubt.”
“I was around when the next-door neighbor told Whitlock that she’d gotten after Celia about repairing those steps in the past. It wasn’t the first time she’d stumbled over them.”
“Maybe not the first, but it was the last.”
“Darn shame. If Celia was still alive, maybe Holly still would be too.”
“If Holly’s discovery of her adoption led to her death, it makes me wonder whether some secrets are better kept hidden.”
He nodded. “We’re still on for our usual Friday morning coffee, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
I headed for the door, and Silas lifted his hand in a slow wave, leaving me with a parting warning. “I can’t shake the sense that this case has roots, deep ones. Find the roots, and the branches will follow.”
I believed him.
Those roots lived in Holly’s past, and I planned to dig until I reached every last one.