Known (26 page)

Or was that just how he looked on the outside?

“Another day, another autopsy,” Nora mumbled under her breath.

Actually she was simply getting summaries from Dr. Rutledge today, but Henry had still declined to accompany her. He’d pointed out that they could read the emailed summaries instead of going in person, but Nora liked talking to people face-to-face. It gave her a chance to get immediate answers to her questions and pick their brains, possibly stimulating something they hadn’t included in the summary, instead of waiting for an email reply. There was plenty about this case to keep Henry working the phone and computer, so she’d hit the Starbucks drive-through and driven to the medical examiner’s.

Dr. Rutledge walked her back to his office from the lobby. “What I found on Francisco Green fits exactly with what Dr. Trask saw happen. He was shot in the head. The damage is what I expected from the type of round that was recovered from the site.”

“It could have been Dr. Trask on your table,” Nora pointed out. “She said that if she hadn’t moved at the right time, the bullet might have hit her.”

“So perhaps she was the target, not the ranger?” He shook his head. “I don’t know how I would have handled that. I’d have had to bring in someone from one of our satellite offices to do the autopsy. Everyone has been very fond of her since she worked here for a couple of weeks on a visitation. I was thrilled when she applied for the new opening. She’s a good fit personality-wise and is very thorough.”

“What about the body found in the other cabin?” Nora asked.

“Hispanic male in his late twenties,” recited Dr. Rutledge from memory. “Five foot ten, one hundred sixty pounds. Healthy. No tattoos. His only scars were on his hands and lower arms. Either he got in a lot of fights or he did some sort of manual labor that banged up his skin. He has an old break in his left foot, but outside of that there aren’t any strong identifiers.” He sat at his desk and pulled up his preliminary report. “No lab results back yet, of course. The angles indicate he was shot once in the face and then again once he fell. I believe that corresponds to the locations of the rounds found at the scene.”

Nora thought back to the photos from the man’s crime scene. He’d been dressed for the outdoors in a thick coat, hat, and boots. All his clothing had appeared well worn but ill-fitting to her. As if he’d collected it from friends or the bargain bin at Goodwill. “Do you still have his effects?”

“Yes, they haven’t been picked up yet. I know there was no wallet, no jewelry, and no cell phone.”

“I’d like to look over them when we’re done.”
No cell phone?
No cell service on that part of the mountain. But had someone removed a cell phone or had he simply never had one?

“Do the shots appear to be from the same gun that killed the older man?” she asked, feeling the need to needle the medical examiner a tiny bit.

Dr. Rutledge’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Did you just ask me that?”

“Sorry, it slipped out.”

“Rookies ask me shit like that,” he muttered. “Not you.” He took a closer look at her. “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?”

She grinned at him. “How about . . . do the entry and exit wounds seem similar in size to the wounds on the other man?”

He smiled. “That’s better. And yes, they are
similar
in size and damage.”

She appreciated his opinion. That was all he could offer on wounds like that and it wasn’t something she could take to a district attorney. Forensics on the rounds could determine if they had come from the same weapon—but they hadn’t found the rounds from the old man’s death. All Dr. Rutledge’s suggestions could do was guide her instinct and investigation, and most of her information suggested the same person had shot the Hispanic man as had shot the burned man from Gianna Trask’s cabin.

“What about time of death? Who died first?”

Dr. Rutledge’s expression shifted into lecture mode, and she held up a hand. “I don’t need to hear the details behind your results right now. Give me the big picture.”

“You take all the fun out of it, but I can’t tell who died first between your burn victim and the Hispanic victim. With the crazy temperatures and the fact the burn victim was moved from where he was originally killed, there are too many factors going on.”

“Shit. So it’s possible that the Hispanic man could have killed Frisco Green and our burn victim.”

“That is a possibility. But you still have someone walking around who killed the Hispanic victim.”

“You’ve fingerprinted the bodies?”

“Yes. And sent them over.”

“Anything else I should know about our mystery bodies?”

“You
will
read my reports, right?” His gaze bored into her.

“Of course. I just like getting the highlights first.”
And I have Henry for reading reports.

“Not that I can think of.”

She excused herself and left the office. In her car she called Henry. “Have comparisons been done on the fingerprints from the John Does and the break-in at Gianna Trask’s place?”

“Jeez. Hello to you, too.”

“Doc Rutledge wanted to know why you never come see him.”

“Bullshit.”

“I told him you prefer keyboards to weighing organs.”

“Damn right. Like any normal person would.”

“So . . . fingerprints?”

“Let me check.”

Nora listened to him tap keys. “I bought my own coffee this morning, so you owe me an extra day this month.”

“That’s not how it works. I only have to buy when we’re together.”

“Then you should have come with me.”

“One of us had to actually get some work done. Here it is.” The tapping stopped, and she heard him mumble under his breath as he scanned the document. Not only did Henry move his lips when he read, he mumbled. She’d learned to tune it out.

“No match from either to Gianna’s break-in.”

“Damn it!”

“But there was a match to the Hispanic John Doe inside the burned cabin. They found it on the underside of the refrigerator handle.”

“I’m stunned they were able to lift anything in that place. It was covered in ash.”

“They know where to look. But why would he get into the fridge? Was he hungry after dumping a dead body in there?”

“The fire started in the kitchen area. Maybe he did that while starting it.”

“Could he have been in their place before starting the fire? Maybe before they even arrived?”

Nora let her brain travel down the new thread Henry had started. “Crap. Gianna speculated that she’d been drugged. But we never had her tested and now I’m kicking myself for it. I wonder if she still has some sort of drug in her system. He could have entered their place at any time and slipped something into her food.”

“But the daughter didn’t have any effects.”

“She might have eaten or drunk something the daughter didn’t. Did we pull the fridge’s contents for testing?”

“We will now. But discovering what type of drug she ingested doesn’t find us our killer.”

“Very true.” Nora grimaced, knowing the testing would be a low priority. “But it offers an explanation for why his prints are on the fridge.”

“Someone had this planned for a while,” said Henry. “That shows some forethought.”

“But it’s so sloppy,” Nora pointed out. “Dr. Trask is fine. Her daughter is fine. We’ve got a fire that didn’t hurt anyone and two dead bodies left behind for us to investigate. It doesn’t add up.”

“Are you arguing that criminals are supposed to be smart?”

She snorted. “No. But usually there’s a bit of logic to their madness. I’m not seeing it with this guy yet.”

“This guy . . . you think we’re looking for a single person?”

Nora was quiet. “I don’t know. My gut says the Hispanic John Doe was kicked off the team for some reason. His manner of death suggests someone was pissed off.”

“Can we call him Juan Doe to keep them straight?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“By that logic, the older John Doe could have been part of a team focused on one of the Trask women. He was eliminated in the same way. Maybe the leader of the group has little patience for people who screw up.”

“So someone targeted the Trask women and hired some people to go after them? Their hiring standards suck. Two of their team are dead and the women are fine.”

“Could someone be looking out for the women?”

“A double-crosser inside their group?” She enjoyed her brainstorming sessions with Henry, but wondered if this suggestion had just gone over the top. She didn’t shoot down his idea; it could lead to something worth investigating. She and Henry made a good team. Their brains fed off each other’s ideas, taking the two of them in directions they wouldn’t have come up with on their own.

“Maybe someone on the inside doesn’t want them dead. He’s taken it upon himself to make certain they survive.”

“Then he has to answer to someone about losing two of his group. And explain why the women are still alive.”

“That’s assuming anyone else knows. We’ve managed to keep most of this out of the media. They’ve been totally wrapped up with the snow-and-ice stories. A cabin fire and a break-in haven’t caught their notice.”

“Good. But if someone from a newspaper or news station decides to look into Gianna’s or Chris’s background because this story caught their eye, we’ll have a media circus on our hands. Individually these two are ratings grabbers. Together they’re a media hot fudge sundae. With whipped cream.”

“Warm peach pie,” Henry countered. “With vanilla ice cream.”

“You win,” Nora admitted. “We need to keep this as low-key as possible. At least both of their personal stories are pretty old. I don’t think their names will trigger any immediate attention. Although Chris Jacobs’s story was refreshed in the media when the remains of the other victims were discovered two years ago.”

“I think it’ll stay quiet.”

Nora said a silent prayer that the media would stay away. Chris’s brother would do what he could in that area. Michael Brody had no interest in putting his family in the media spotlight. Again.

“No identifications from the fingerprints?”

“They’ve been entered into the major data banks with no luck. I can start trying some of the smaller ones.”

Nora wished there were one primary data bank that held
all
fingerprints, but the truth was that there were dozens of them. And that was just in the United States. The systems had greatly improved over the last decade, but they still had a long way to go. It wasn’t as simple as scanning prints into a computer and having it search everywhere for a perfect match. For some data banks a person had to physically
mail
a copy of the prints along with a letter of request that they be run for comparison. The funds to computerize simply weren’t available in all communities. “See if there are any small databases we can submit to in the area where Gianna grew up. The fact that this guy had a necklace she lost long ago makes me suspect he’s connected to her past.”

“I will. I feel like the necklace is an important factor, but we can’t figure out what to do with it.”

“I agree. I think it could crack this whole case wide open, but the damn thing doesn’t talk,” said Nora. “Anything back on the photos from the crime scenes? Did the photography techs see anything we didn’t?”

“Nothing has come back yet. I’ll call the lab. It’s a bit soon to ask,” he said pointedly.

“I know. But poking them will make them want us off their backs and get the job done sooner.”

“Or piss them off and they decide to take their time.”

“Don’t talk about our lab guys like that. They love me. I send them cookies at Christmas.”

“They see right through that, you know.”

“Did you dig up anything on that Sullivan autopsy case Dr. Trask mentioned?” The case had flitted through Nora’s mind several times. Could a Sullivan relative be angry enough to harm Gianna over her stand on a case?

“I did. The family tried to file some sort of lawsuit against the New York medical examiner’s office and named Dr. Trask specifically, but it was thrown out before it got anywhere. Basically she classified it as a suicide and the Sullivan family took exception to that.”

“She seemed very positive about her results when she mentioned it to us.”

“It went through some sort of peer review with the other medical examiners. They agreed with her findings.”

“Any issues after that?”

“Dr. Trask reported receiving threatening letters to the police, but the letters all went to her office. Nothing came to her home, so I don’t think they knew where she lived, and as far as I can tell all the remaining relatives are over seventy. The letter writer was an aunt who rarely leaves her home in New York . . . she’s also known for writing threatening letters to the president and several members of the Senate. I don’t think these are people who can create the type of destruction we’ve seen over the last few days.”

“Are they from money? Could they have hired someone? Our first John Doe was older. Could he have been a Sullivan?”

“Yes, there is a lot of money in the family,” said Henry. “But they aren’t spenders. They have these huge bank accounts and investments but live off almost nothing. I have a mental picture of a bunch of old people who wear darned socks and drink weak tea while they’re wrapped up in patchwork quilts because they don’t want to turn on the heat in their million-dollar homes.”