Chapter 41
We cruised out to sea in the sheriff's Defender-class patrol boat. Brenda and her crew joined us, along with the forensic investigators. Daniels filled us in on the details as he piloted the boat through the sapphire swells.
It didn't take long to reach the fishing trawler.
The sea-worn boat had seen better days, but it was still on the water doing its job.
With a faded royal-blue hull and white trim, the boat was bubbling and stained with rust. It pitched and rolled on the swells as we approached.
A flock of gulls hung on the breeze, looking for scraps.
We pulled alongside and boarded the boat.
Caught up in one of the nets was a young girl who matched Riley's description. She’d been out here for a few days, and her abdomen was bloated.
Her skin had a grayish color and was sloughing.
Her once luxurious blonde hair was now twisted and matted.
The critters of the sea had feasted on her eyes and nibbled at her flesh.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
The foul smell soured my nostrils worse than the fish scraps that littered the deck.
"We pulled her up in the net like that," the swarthy captain said with a tobacco stained white beard.
The guy was probably 45, but he looked 60 from his time in the sun. His skin had taken on a deep, blotchy color that comes from overexposure. The lines on his face painted a picture of his life—hard work and toil.
He continued. "We didn't touch anything. Figured you boys didn't want the body disturbed.”
The sheriff nodded. Dietrich snapped photos, and Brenda pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and examined the remains.
Despite the damage to the body, I was 90% certain this was Riley. Brenda would find out when she compared dental records. The victim’s hands were in good enough shape to pull prints. Maybe we’d get a match if she was in the system.
"How long do you think she's been out here?” I asked.
"Given the water temperature, I'd say 48, give or take. Timing fits. Judging by the bruising around the neck, this woman was strangled. I’ll know more when I get her back to the lab, but this is probably your girl."
Zoe Martin was beginning to look a lot more credible.
A grim frown tightened the sheriff’s face. This kind of thing was hard to see. He said to me, “Find the bastard who did this.”
“We’re on it.”
I talked more with the captain, then interviewed the deckhands. I took contact information for all of them.
Brenda and her crew bagged the body and transferred the remains back to the sheriff's patrol boat.
We headed back to the island and put together a game plan.
Paris and her crew waited for us. Her cameraman grabbed footage as Brenda's crew transferred the remains ashore.
Paris closed in as we stepped to the dock. "Deputy Wild, can you confirm the ID of the victim?"
She knew better than to ask, but that was her job.
"Not at this time."
JD and I filled out reports, then we set out to find Tracy Vaughn. We took the van to her apartment, and I rang her unit from the call box. "What's going on?"
"I think it's best if we talk in person."
She buzzed us in, and we stepped into the lobby and took the elevator up to her floor. She waited at the door for us with a tormented look on her face. I think she knew by my tone what was coming.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…”
Her eyes filled before I could finish the sentence. I told her the news and asked her to come to the medical examiner’s office to ID the body. I said she could ride with us. Tracy gathered her purse and cell phone, then joined us.
At the morgue, I warned her it wouldn’t be a pleasant sight.
She nodded like she understood, but she didn't understand. There was no way to understand if you hadn’t seen something like this before.
By that time, Brenda had the body on a metal exam table. Brenda was used to the smell. I think she burned out her olfactory senses long ago.
The autopsy room was cold and clinical. A poured epoxy floor that sloped to drains. Stainless steel tables and cabinets. Surgical lighting. The smell of disinfectant and formalin mixed with the aroma of death.
Tracy turned green under the pale fluorescent lights. She took one look at the remains and spun around. "I can't do this,” she said before hurrying out of the lab.
I followed her back into the hallway.
She shook her head. "Nope. Not going back in there. I can’t do this."
"I understand.”
Tracy took a deep breath, the tears spilling over. She tried to hold it all together. After a few moments, she inhaled, sucked it up, and said, "Okay. Let's do this.”
"Are you sure?”
She nodded, and I escorted her back in.