Terminal 9 (18 page)

The three of them stared at the card. Mac was the first to break the silence. “Well, that's interesting.”

“Do we know a Jacob Mullins?” Kristen asked. “If not, we do now.”

“He's Clay's son,” Dana said. “We just found out about him yesterday. We talked to him via phone. He wasn't too cooperative.”

“Hmm. This guy is probably Jacob, but we need proof. We aren't going to make a physical identification. No fingerprints either.” Kristen grimaced. “Let's roll him over, Henry, and see what kind of dental work he has. I may have to take some bone marrow for DNA comparison from that upper thigh.”

When Henry and Kristen rolled the body over, the stench of burnt flesh permeated the room. Mac stepped back for a moment.

Kristen peered inside the mouth while Henry held a flashlight up to where the man's lips had once been. “Can't see inside. The muscles along the mandible are constricted.” She stood on her toes and placed her palms on the victim's chin and forehead. With a quick thrust on both points of contact, she pulled open the mouth.

Dana winced at the sickening crack. “Yikes. That hurt.”

“Felt that one, did you?” Kristen offered Dana a sympathetic smile. “If it's any consolation, it hurt you worse than it did him.” She examined the teeth. “We're in luck; this guy's mouth kept some dentist in sports cars. He's got fillings, crowns, and at least one partial bridge. I'll get on the horn to find his dentist after the post and see what I can come up with in my insurance database. Any idea where he lived?”

Dana turned her attention back to the ID card. “His ID has him living in Gresham, which matches the info I got earlier. She pulled out the rest of the contents in the wallet. There's an outdated Oregon Trail card in his wallet too.”

“That means he'll be in the system.” People who needed state-assisted medical care carried Oregon Trail cards. Mac puzzled over the find. “He had a job—how old is the card?”

“Coverage ended six months ago. Maybe he recently started working.”

“This is good,” Kristen said. “The card will make it fairly easy to track him down. That is, if the wallet is actually his. To be certain, I'll locate some records and get our forensic dental expert on his mouth before we release the body. We'll assume he's Jacob Mullins at this point; looks like the right height and weight.”

Dana pulled out the remaining contents of the wallet while Mac photographed each item. After documenting a small amount of cash and various membership cards, Dana came upon a singed business card for Addison Shaw, Attorney at Law.

“Wasn't Shaw Clay's attorney?” Dana asked. “The one handling his estate?”

“I'm sure that's the name Clay's daughter gave us,” Mac said. “I remember because she mentioned how much she didn't care for him.”

“He called me too,” Kristen said. “Yesterday. Remember? He wanted the death certificate.”

“Guy's been busy. We'd better pay Mr. Shaw a visit soon.”

“Right.” Dana continued bagging the evidence. “How about we grab something to eat when we're done here and then head back to St. Helens.”

Kristen continued the autopsy while Mac and Dana finished examining the contents of Jacob's pockets, which in addition to the wallet revealed some spare change, a set of keys, a single key, and a small pocket knife. Mac held the single key up to examine it. “Looks like a house key. Wonder why it wasn't attached to the other keys in his pocket?”

“Maybe the key went to Clay's house,” Dana suggested.

“It's as good a guess as any, but where did he get it?”

“And how did he get past the guard?” Dana asked. “Maybe he's the one who made the fake call.”

“Good a guess as any. Somebody's head is going to roll on this one.” Mac shook his head. “Unfortunately, a small town like St.

Helens probably used reserve officers or volunteers. And we know how much weight Spalding was giving the case.” Kristen removed the internal organs. After photographing and weighing them, she began to dissect the lungs.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” Mac asked, turning toward her.

“These lungs are pink as a baby's behind, kids, both in the upper and lower lobes. Our guy didn't die from smoke inhalation.”

Dana came to stand beside Mac. “Which means he was dead before the fire started, right?”

“Looks that way. Let me take a look at the esophagus.” Kristen made a long vertical incision down the throat to get to the inner esophagus. After a few minutes, she said, “There's a small amount of discoloration here, but I don't see any hemorrhaging along the throat or any burst damage to these tiny air chambers in the lungs, things I would expect to see if he was breathing superheated air.” She frowned. “Odd, I haven't seen any outward trauma to the body, though.” Glancing up at Henry she said, “Let's get into his head and take a look around.”

Mac stood back, knowing what was coming next.

Henry peeled the scalp back for Kristen to examine before removing the top of the cranium with a bone saw, properly referred to as craniotomy in the autopsy reports.

“Don't see much damage on the outside; these natural fissures are slightly separated on the anterior portion. On the posterior,” Kristen lifted the head up from the plastic supporting block, “the paired cranial nerves don't appear to have anything remarkable going on. They reach the skull periphery and appear to be unbroken.”

“Could you dumb that down for me, Doc?” Mac asked.

Kristen grinned at him. “Sorry. There is no obvious damage to the outside of the cranium, but there is an abnormal tissue mass on the back of his head. Go ahead and open him up, Henry.”

Henry pulled up the circular bone saw and cut a round cap off the top of the victim's skull, then efficiently removed the brain from the skull cavity.

Dana sucked in a sharp breath.

Mac pulled off his glove and picked up a pack of smelling salts from Kristen's stash on the counter, cracked it, and placed it under Dana's nose. “You okay?”

She took a good whiff and stopped weaving. “I think so.”

“Maybe you should sit down.” Mac offered her an arm to lean on.

“No. I'm okay. I'm usually pretty good with this kind of stuff.” She straightened and took another whiff of the smelling salts.

“We definitely have some trauma here,” Kristen said as she examined the back portion of the brain. “This corresponds with that unusual tissue mold in the back of the skull.” She studied the interior of the skull, shining Henry's penlight around the cavity. “Looks like Jacob, if that's who our victim is, took a whack on the head. There's an oblique wound across the back of his skull. Could be from the falling timbers in the fire, but our guy was dead before the fire burned to the stage where we'd have falling timbers. I can tell you that this wound would be enough to kill him. That's about as close as I can get you. Nothing else is jumping out at me. I'll be doing some toxicology screens and blood tests, but for now, we can go with blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”

“Any guess on the murder weapon?” Mac asked.

“Something heavy with a long, flat edge. You don't crack a skull like this without something substantial; the break covers at least three inches on the skull. That's why we didn't see the fracture from the outside. It actually reset back into place after the initial blow. The trauma to the brain itself indicates the severity of the blow.”

“Looks like we got us a murder gig, then,” Mac said. “Even if we find that Clay wasn't actually murdered, his son was.”

Dana pursed her lips. “Right. You want to tell Kelly about her brother? This will be rough for her. Losing her father and brother within a couple of days.”

“Yeah, unless she did them both in.” Mac had already begun thinking of suspects, and Kelly Mullins-Cassidy was definitely on the list.

“Because she's the only heir left?”

“Right,” Mac admitted. “I can't help but wonder if her refusal to sign a consent for us to search the house was because she had some unfinished business there. Let's hold off on the notification until Kristen gets confirmation on his identification through his dental records.”

“Good idea,” Kristen said. “I should have those for you by the end of the day if I can get his records sent to me right away. The dentist who looks at these things is in town, so if our victim is Jacob Mullins, it won't take him long.”

“Thanks. Dana and I need to start tracking down a few people. Addison Shaw is on the list of people to interview. I want to know why Jacob was carrying his father's lawyer's card. I also want to find the developers who were looking to buy the land.”

“Sounds like you two have your work cut out for you.” Kristen looked up and caught Mac's gaze. “Good luck.”

SIXTEEN

M
AC PAGED SERGEANT EVAN Sas he and Dana headed into a fast-food joint. Frank phoned him back moments later. “Yeah, Mac. I'm here at the crime lab. It's time for a briefing—we need to get all these bits and pieces of the investigation into something we can put our hands around. Can you two make it back to the office at, say, 1300 hours?”

“That's doable. We're grabbing lunch right now—we were on our way to talk to Clay Mullins's attorney, but we can put that on hold. The fire victim had the attorney's card in his wallet.”

“Interesting. You'll definitely want to follow up, but I'd like you all here for a briefing ASAP. I have some new developments from the scene and from the lab, and I'd just as soon we lay everything on the table at once.”

“We'll be there.” They had exactly fifteen minutes to get their food and inhale it. He closed his phone, pocketed it, and scooted into the plastic seat across the table from Dana. Their food came as he told her about the briefing.

“I wonder what's up.” Dana took a long sip of her raspberry smoothie. “Did he give you anything?”

Mac shook his head, his mouth too full of hamburger to speak. They didn't talk much during the meal—didn't have time, really. They seldom did. Mac couldn't count the number of times he would gulp down the junk food he'd ordered, wash it down with a cola or a milkshake, and be on his way again. Or the number of times he'd ordered to go and eaten in the car.

As Dana pointed out, on-the-go meals didn't have to be unhealthy. She was eating a chicken Caesar salad. He should have ordered salad, but old habits died hard. Maybe next time.

He thought again about how Dana had outrun him by about forty yards down along the river. Of course, he had been flat out on the ground when the chase started, giving her a good head start, but he should have caught up. A year ago, he would have.

Rubbing a hand across his not-so-flat stomach, he made a commitment to get those extra pounds off. He'd up his visits to the gym—maybe work out daily instead of sporadically like he had been doing.

DANA SPEARED THE LAST FEW PIECES OF LETTUCE with her plastic fork and stuffed them into her mouth. She was beginning to think having Mac as a partner was a bad idea. While she'd had moments when things seemed right between them, he often seemed distant and upset. She had a hunch a lot of the antagonism came out of his bruised ego. “Mac.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “We need to talk.”

“Huh?” He had a sort of dazed look about him.

“I said we need to talk—and not about the case.” She crumpled her napkin. “Would you like to see about getting someone else as a partner?”

His surprise seemed genuine. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged. “Well, for starters, you seem to be upset with me most of the time. I mean . . . it's like you're mad at me for something. If this is about my not wanting to date you—I just wonder if we'd be better off not working together.”

Mac glanced at his watch, grateful for an excuse to change the subject. “We better get moving. Can we finish this conversation in the car?”

“Sure.”

They got up from the table and took their trays to the garbage bin. Mac didn't want to talk at all. Why couldn't she just leave it alone? The food he'd just inhaled churned around in his stomach, and for a few minutes he wondered if it was going to stay down. He didn't like dealing with problems—especially relationship problems. How could he have been stupid enough to think that he and Dana could be more than friends? She was more committed to her job than he was to his. And now she wanted another partner?

Once they were situated in the car and heading for the office, Dana pressed Mac for an answer. “So, do you want to request another partner?”

“Do you?”
Throw the ball back in her court. Stall for time.
He hadn't even considered asking for another partner. For one thing it wouldn't look good on his record. Might seem like he didn't get along with her. But then it wouldn't look good for him if she requested a change either.

“No, it's just . . .”

Mac pressed his lips together. “I don't want another partner. You're a good cop, and I trust you.”

“But?”

He shook his head and smiled. “I'm sorry if I indicated that you weren't doing a good job. Thing is, you're just a little too good at times and I feel—intimidated.”

“You hate it when I get ahead of you or when I take the initiative. You're upset that I single-handedly caught the kid at Mullins's place.”

“That was a good catch, Dana. Like I said, you're top-notch.”

“And it scares the heck out of you.”

“It doesn't scare me.” Mac stared out the windshield, wishing he could think of something wise and wonderful to say. She was right. He was scared, which, when he thought about it, was totally ridiculous.

Dana folded her arms and flashed him a knowing look. “I'm not going to dummy down so I don't hurt your feelings, Mac. I'll never throw a game so some guy can come out feeling like a jock.”