Chapter 14
When Vaughn had asked if they had any tanks, went as far as to inquire if any had recently gone missing, he was met with a stare that rivaled the emptiness of their victims’ faces.
No dice.
The company that provided “gas solutions”—which Darnell had high hopes would be able to help him with his flatulence problem—was only slightly more fruitful.
That left the Princeton CBE department.
First, a detour.
Officer Delaney called, told them that Dr. Button had an update from the morgue.
Seeing bodies in the morgue was always easier for Vaughn than coming across them at a crime scene. The temporal and physical separation from their location of death had a numbing effect, helping affirm their status as victims rather than actual people.
Callous, but a necessary coping mechanism.
Not so for Darnell, who grimaced as they approached the first victim, naked, splayed out on the table, chest opened in a classic Y cut.
Hard to make jokes in the presence of death.
“Hydrogen sulfide is extremely volatile,” Dr. Button said.
He was the least affected by the ten bodies, speaking in a professorial tone.
Matched his appearance to a T. The only thing he was missing was a bow tie.
“It dissipates rapidly. Found evidence of chemical burns in the mucosal membranes of the deceased’s nose and mouth.
Fluid in the lungs.” He pointed at the grayish organs that were still contained within the body cavity.
“Blood analysis revealed the presence of low levels of thiosulfate in his system.”
“Thiosulfate?” Darnell asked. He shivered. “Also, there a reason you’re doing this in a meat locker and not out there?”
Apparently, you could make jokes around the dead.
Dr. Button frowned at this.
“Like I said, H2S is highly volatile. Keeping the bodies cold slows the degradation process. As for your question, thiosulfate is a metabolite of hydrogen sulfide. Smell that? That rotten egg odor?”
Vaughn inhaled. He mostly smelled cleaning chemicals, perhaps embalming fluid, but there was a distinct, albeit subtle, egg odor. He just couldn’t tell if this was still lingering from the crime scene or if it was new.
He nodded anyway.
“I need to do some more tests, but I’m fairly confident that this victim died from acute H2S exposure.”
“How does that happen?” Vaughn asked. Dr. Button blinked. “I mean, what does the gas do to the body?”
“Binds to cytochrome C oxidase. Prevents the mitochondria from utilizing oxygen.”
“So they suffocate?”
“In simple terms, yes.”
“How long does something like this take?”
“At high concentrations, Victim Thirteen would have lost consciousness in seconds. Death occurs in less than a minute. Also, the conditions inside the barn were ideal for specimen preservation. I’ve officially listed the time of death at 1:30 in the morning. Plus or minus half an hour.”
Vaughn nodded again, glanced at the table beside the gurney. Neatly folded atop the man’s clothes—jeans, a generic t-shirt—was the piece of paper with the number thirteen on it.
“Aaron Treadman,” Delaney said out of the blue.
Vaughn had forgotten that the officer was in the cold room with them. Delaney had a way of doing that, just popping up without warning.
Like herpes or gonorrhea.
“Excuse?”
Delaney smiled, showing off a mouth just a little too full of teeth.
“Ran his prints, got a hit. Victim with the number thirteen on his chest is Aaron Treadman. He was picked up about six months ago for petty theft.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“Princeton.”
Vaughn raised an eyebrow.
“The university?”
“Yep. Worked as a campus security guard. Some faculty member’s laptop went missing from their office or something when he was the only one around. Cops were called and he was pulled in and printed. Never officially charged, but the uni let him go anyway.”
“Address?”
“Not yet. Working on it.”
Vaughn took a photo of Aaron’s face with his phone. His skin looked even more blue now, but at least Dr. Button had cleaned the white foam from his nose and mouth.
“Delaney,” Darnell said. “Keep printing the other victims, see if we can get names for them, too. Names and addresses.”
Delaney stopped smiling.
“Do you have the 3D photos that Landon took at the scene?” Vaughn asked.
“Yeah, he sent them to me. Also let me hold onto the gas detector. Cool little thing.”
Vaughn ignored this last part.
“Forward the photos to me.”
“Sure thing.”
Vaughn turned to Dr. Button and held out his hand, only to pull it back. The ME was wearing thick black gloves that glistened with an unknown substance.
“Thanks, Dr. Button. If you find anything else, let Delaney here know. He’ll pass the message along.”
“Should be another six or eight hours before I process all the bodies, but if they’re anything like Victim Thirteen, I don’t expect to find anything new.”
“Well, if you do, let us know. Darnell?”