Chapter 6 #2
Dressed, she pushed through the swinging door with her elbows, to keep her gloved hands free of contamination, to the small, ancient room. The layered smell of chemicals and biological decomposition left a queasy feeling in her stomach.
Dr. Faye Briggs and her assistant, Theo, stood at the single autopsy table beneath a circular overhead light. El had expected to arrive in time for the initial Y-cut. She hadn’t. Faye had already worked well past it and several organs rested in a bowl or on the nearby scale.
Faye looked up, scalpel in hand, her N95 masking most of her face. “Detective. Good. I started earlier than scheduled. Figured by the time you arrived, I’d have more to tell you.”
“I don’t mind missing the first cut.” El moved closer. “Time and cause of death?”
“Little has changed from my initial assessment. Death occurred between seven and nine p.m. The cold continues to complicate determining a narrower window.”
El had expected this answer, but was glad to have it officially confirmed. “And cause of death?”
Faye set her scalpel on the tray, her eyes steady on El.
“The body tells a different story than drowning. The lungs are dry. No frothy edema fluid in the airways, no water aspiration into the alveoli. Also, microscopic algae from the lake aren’t embedded in her lung tissue like they would be if she’d inhaled water while alive.
I’m certain she was dead before she hit the lake.
Someone staged it to look like a drowning, probably to buy time or mislead us.
Or even hoped to hide the body in the lake. ”
El stepped closer to the table, peering at the neck under the harsh lights. “Strangulation, then?”
“Yes, manual strangulation.” Faye pointed to the Y-incision she’d made across the neck.
“Bruising shows thumb and finger marks around the throat with deep muscle hemorrhaging and petechiae confirming it. No hyoid or thyroid cartilage fractures. She was killed on land, then dumped. Cause of death is asphyxia from vascular compression, and manner is most definitely homicide.”
Thank goodness the doctor had determined the cause of death, but El didn’t much like thinking about the terrible way Kenna had lost her life. “Does this mean the blood on her shirt is a separate matter?”
“I found no wounds on her body to account for that quantity of blood on the shirt.”
“The blood’s likely from her attacker, then.”
“It could belong to the child.” Faye drew her eyebrows together. “Sorry. I hate to go there, but it could be a reality in this investigation.”
El’s stomach dropped. “Would that volume of blood loss on the shirt be dangerous for a child her age?”
“I can’t determine an exact volume from the shirt.
It’s just a visual estimate, and stains absorb unpredictably.
I’ve bagged it for the lab if you want serologists to quantify the blood.
Even fifty to a hundred milliliters could be life-threatening for a child that small, but that’s speculative until results confirm the source. ”
“We’re working with the Veritas Center expert.”
“They can handle the shirt and estimate the quantity of blood at the abduction site. At her age, losing just fifteen to twenty percent—about two to four hundred milliliters—is dangerous. At twenty-five to thirty percent, it’s life-threatening without immediate treatment, and over thirty to forty percent is often fatal, since kids decompensate much faster than adults. ”
The image of the dark, wet ground near the van moved through El’s mind. She had confidence in Sierra’s skills, but oh, how she desperately wanted answers now. “Our forensic expert is working that scene right now.”
Please. Let the blood belong to the attacker.
“The blood on the shirt looks like less than half a liter, but if there’s more at the abduction site—”
“There is.” El forced herself to say it plainly when if it fit the quantity for a male attacker, it was more than enough for Lucy to be in great danger. “We’ll know more once Sierra finishes the scene.”
“It’s all speculative until then.” Faye looked down at the body, her gloved hand hovering near the neck.
“I also ran a high-resolution CT scan before I started. It shows internal hemorrhaging in the throat muscles. Deep intramuscular bleeds that don’t fully align with the external bruising pattern. ”
“Meaning what?”
“The injuries suggest prolonged or multistage compression.”
“I’m not familiar with that,” El said.
“There could’ve been an initial phase of restraint to seduce her.
That would be broader, superficial force, leaving those external marks to subdue her.
Then more targeted pressure causing the isolated internal hemorrhages without adding new surface trauma.
It indicates a sustained assault with some control over the application of force, but exactly how many methods or the intent behind it?
That’s for you and the behavioral analysts to interpret.
The pathology just points to escalation, not necessarily expertise. ”
“Law enforcement, military, martial arts?” El ventured, her mind racing through profiles.
“Could be.” Faye held her gaze. “Or someone practicing for future kills.”
El gaped at the doctor. “You’re talking serial killer?”
“I’m presenting possibilities. What you investigate is your decision.”
El moved a few steps away and mulled it over.
She didn’t like where this development pointed, but she couldn’t ignore it.
She’d need to run a ViCAP search. The FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program was built to track and correlate information on violent crime, especially murder.
If an investigating officer entered data on a similar unsolved murder, she should be able to find it.
Eager to move the process along so she could get out of this room, she stepped back to the table. “Any indication she was sexually assaulted?”
“None.”
“That’s a blessing for sure.”
Faye nodded and pointed at the dissected shoulder region. “I found micro-tears in shoulder and neck muscles. These are consistent with a van accident, but could also be from abrupt traction or forcible manipulation.”
“The kind that could occur if someone was grabbed from behind with sudden, violent force,” El suggested.
“That’s right,” Faye said. “If that occurred, the pattern suggests the victim wasn’t in a defensive posture or facing the assailant at the moment of impact, implying a rear approach without prior awareness or resistance.”
“An ambush.” El’s mind started to piece together the fragments.
“Kenna would’ve had to survive the crash.
Climb out of the van. Then maybe lean into the backseat to get Lucy.
He came up from behind. Surprised her, and she grabbed the screwdriver we found.
She injured him, and his blood was transferred to her shirt. ”
Faye nodded slowly, setting aside her probe. “That scenario aligns well with the injury pattern. But it’s still hypothetical until we cross-reference with the vehicle forensics, toxicology, and scene reconstruction. No scenario is locked in yet.”
El could see it. Kenna bending into the van, reaching for her daughter, and then nothing. She could imagine Kenna’s shock and fear. Imagine Lucy’s terror. And of course, Kenna stabbing him.
El swallowed away the awful feeling in her gut. “Besides using the screwdriver, did Kenna fight back?”
“Could be,” Faye said. “Several nails are broken. I collected biological material from under the others. I’ll have the state lab analyze all of it.”
A state lab would take forever. Not something El wanted to wait for. “I know you have guidelines to follow for submitting samples, but could you redirect those samples to the Veritas Center? Our agency is covering the cost.”
Faye nodded vigorously. “They’re on our approved list, and faster results would be great.”
“Thank you.” El let the words carry weight. Her eyes moved along the body and stopped at the wrists. “You haven’t mentioned the bruising.”
“It was up next. It’s accompanied by micro-punctures at both the wrists and ankles. The pattern is consistent with zip ties, specifically, a textured variety. Serrated or ribbed inner surface.”
That was something. A specific tool, a specific pattern. Something to search in ViCAP. Something that might connect this to another scene.
“So, she was definitely restrained,” El said.
“Yes, and one more finding.” Faye pointed to the back of Kenna’s right hand. “Trace blood, barely visible to the naked eye. No wound to explain it. Same situation as the shirt. Either her attacker’s or Lucy’s. I’ll send it for analysis with the other samples.”
El studied the hand for a moment. Of everything recovered so far, this might be the closest thing to a direct link. “I mean this genuinely. I’m glad you took this position. You bring skills this county hasn’t had access to before.”
Faye waved her off. “Just doing my job.”
“You’re doing it exceptionally well.” El paused. “I hope small-town life holds its appeal for a while and you don’t leave us for a big-city lab.”
“It does.” Faye’s eyes above the mask crinkled, likely from a smile. “And whatever comes next in my life is in God’s hands, not mine.”
El nodded. She suspected the routine cases that filled most of a county examiner’s calendar would eventually frustrate someone with Faye’s training, but she kept the thought to herself. “Is that everything so far?”
“One more thing,” Faye said, her voice quieter now. “Probably the most significant finding of all.” She waited a beat. “Kenna was twelve weeks pregnant.”
The words landed like a lightbulb dropped from a height. El stood, unable to move past the initial impact, her mind already turning over everything they’d assumed about motive, about the killer, about why Kenna had died.
Things had just changed. Big time. This pregnancy could be the reason for Kenna’s murder, and El had been looking at this wrong from the beginning.