Chapter 5
MINKA
“It is two o’clock in the afternoon, August second, and my name is Chief Medical Examiner Minka Mayet.
I’m with Doctor Aubree Emeri, and we’re in autopsy suite one inside the George Stanley Medical Examiner’s office, downtown, Copeland City.
” I recite all the important details for our record, while, with my hands on my hips, not on the girl naked on my examination table, I circle her body and hate that even though she’s technically an adult, her body still bears the markers of childhood.
Her hips are narrow. Acne scars mark her chin. A fresh pimple she never got the chance to pop bulges on her cheek. And her hands… they’re still so small. So delicate.
“Doctor Emeri?” I drag my eyes across and swallow the grief bubbling at the base of my throat. “Can we confirm the identity of the woman on our table?”
“Yes, Chief.” She sets her hands in her coat pockets and rocks back on her heels.
“Visual comparison to her school identification indicates this is Josephine Ryan, no middle name. X-ray analysis confirms historical fractures of the third and fourth metatarsal bones in her left foot. Josephine’s medical records corroborate these breaks; at twelve years old, she suffered a sporting injury.
Additionally, X-rays show a historical buckle fracture in the patient’s left radius at the distal end.
Josephine Ryan’s medical records indicate a buckle fracture from when she was ten years old.
Records show Josephine Ryan has blue eyes, light brown hair, stands at five feet and four inches tall, and weighs approximately one-hundred-and-thirty-eight pounds.
Our patient has blue eyes, light brown hair, is five feet and four inches tall, and her current weight falls at one-thirty-three.
Odontological consultation is underway; preliminary findings confirm this patient is Josephine Ryan.
” She scans Josey’s body with steely blue eyes.
“It is my professional opinion we are currently looking at Josephine Ryan.”
“Good. Thank you.” The slice in Josephine’s neck leaves her wide open, but the straight edge we’d otherwise expect in a case like this has been ruined by overnight exposure and the insects that made a meal of her body.
Still, I study her with a sad shake of my head.
“We’ll begin cutting shortly, but first, I’d like your impressions. ”
Surprised, Aubree’s brows sling high. “My impressions?”
“Mm. I want you to look at her and tell me what you think. What you feel.”
She narrows her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by my request. But she drops her gaze to Josey and drags her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I think this was a young woman on the cusp of the rest of her life. Freshly washed hair. Maintained ends. Her coloring is natural. Her skin is mostly clear. She keeps her nails short, neat, and intact. Her teeth are mostly straight, clean, and unchipped. She has two piercings in each ear, plain studs in both. No apparent infection or inflammation in either. Consistent muscle tone corroborates a moderately physical lifestyle, and although testing will confirm, I see no markers for a notable smoking habit or excessive alcohol consumption.”
Or any alcohol at all, really.
“She looks like a healthy, happy young woman. I see no unexplained or unexplainable bruising, no markers for self-harm, and despite the event that ended her life, she has no defensive wounds suggesting she saw, or expected, her attacker. Mild callusing on her distal interphalangeal knuckle, middle finger, suggests a heavy grip with a pen, or,” she lifts her hand and shows a similar marking in the same spot, same finger, of hers.
“Phones. They’re getting heavier these days, and we’re able to do more with them: banking, homework, email.
We’re contacting our friends and family with them more than ever, and catching most of our news exposure on them. ”
Finally, she steps forward and gently takes Josey’s left hand in hers, closing her eyes and drawing a slow breath deep into her lungs. She expands her chest, fills her lungs, and widens her nostrils. Then she releases it again and meets my gaze.
“I think this was an extremely tragic death, and she was a woman whose future was bright. But instead of getting to live it, her light was extinguished by a person too cowardly to even show their face to their victim.”
She doesn’t know who did it.
She doesn’t know why.
Because Josey didn’t know either.
“Alright.” I exhale a long breath through my nose and wander toward Josey’s bottom end. I study her lean thighs, and most importantly, the lack of bruising so common amongst victims of sexual violence. Jesus, I handle too many of those cases. “Should we prepare a rape kit, Doctor Emeri?”
She carefully sets Josey’s hand back on the table, her movements slow and respectful. “We should, because it's procedure. But I don’t think this was a sexually driven crime. I think it’s…” Her brows come closer together. “It’s…”
“What?” I scan her youthful face. Her beauty.
She and Josey are not even a full decade apart in age, but their life experiences are entire galaxies apart.
One is a medical examiner who stumbled her way into a family rife with violence and secrets.
The other was a child mere months ago, where everything revolved around school and friends and…
whatever it is regular teenage girls do. “What do you think this is?”
“I think whoever hurt her was extremely angry, like they felt Josey owed them something. Or like she was a threat to them.” She shakes her head. “I don’t think this was a quarrel between lovers.”
At a tap-tap-tap on my autopsy suite door, I twist and lock eyes with an abnormally composed Sophia.
She’s the woman accustomed to messing with everyone around her, the one who could rule the world if she wanted to…
and does, often. But while I work over a girl who deserved better, she holds herself to a higher standard and lifts her chin in summons.
Nodding, I bring my focus back to Aubs, then to the recorder still rolling on the wall-hugging counter that spans the entire length of my suite. “Start cutting, Doctor Emeri. I’ll be back shortly to assist.” I turn toward the glass door and step out of one world and into another.
Music pipes low through the speakers built into the walls… I think, and autopsy techs go about their business, pretending not to notice Preston Danes and the massive A-frame ladder he sets up in Doctor Kirk’s currently unoccupied suite.
I start toward my office.
“What happened to her?” Soph’s shoes slap against the tile as she strides a single pace behind me. “She’s just a baby.”
“She’s also a human being who deserves privacy and dignity now that she’s in my care.” I push through my office door and head straight to my desk. Plopping into my chair, I take out my phone and sift quickly through the notifications on my screen.
A rock from Archer.
A message from Mary, snitching on Steve, because he wants to go for a swim in the pool.
No.
Then a message from Justin Lawrence requesting a call back.
Definitely not.
Soph drops into the visitor chair Aubree typically sits in, slumping not at all like a prima ballerina should. “Do you know who hurt that girl yet?”
“Nope, and though I’d normally suggest you call the Copeland City Police Department if you have any questions, I’m not sure this is actually any of your business, so…”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re cranky when you’re working.”
No. I’m cranky when the arteries inside an eighteen-year-old’s throat are viciously sliced open.
“Did you need something, Sophia, or are you just lazy while everyone else works?”
Her lips twitch with a teasing smile. “Figured I’d give you an update since we’ve just hit our first milestone.
Spence is coming through floor by floor, tearing out the janky dinosaur-age computers and replacing them with standard Griffin tech.
We’re still using your existing networks so your staff can continue working.
Meanwhile, Griff is on the fifteenth floor building your mainframe.
Your electricity consumption will rise after we’re done, since you’ll be running a larger system than before, but I promise it’s for a good cause.
Pres is tearing out the crappy security cameras already in place and swapping them for Griffin Red Dots.
Also, those hand-held recorders you use will be obsolete after this week.
Once we’re set up, you can initiate a formal recording with a simple verbal order.
You’ll label the case, date, and time, and each recording will automatically save to the files associated with each patient who rolls in. ”
“So, you’re giving me more admin before I can even start cutting? If I can’t cut until I record, and I can’t record until I have a file already set up on the dumb computer…”
Her eyes dance with mirth, even as she brings one long leg up and crosses it over the other.
“Placeholder files will exist before you walk out the door every single day. When you arrive on scene, you’ll do that thing you do where you state the date and time and whatever the scene looks like; this will automatically filter across and formalize the new file.
If you want to assign each new file a number that means something to you, you can.
Alternatively, stating their name, or John Doe #73 will do it.
Each new addition to the file will update what’s already there, keeping it perpetually current.
Backups are created every hour, on the hour, so if you mess up, you can roll everything back and find the last saved file. ”
“Sounds complicated.”