rodents. Ethan mentally overlaid an image of the smiling, fresh-faced girl from his university criminology class and decided that this shriveled, eyeless head could be her face.
Or not.
Who knew? He needed to keep reminding himself that they had no objective confirmation that this dead girl was Heather Rigby. He had jumped to conclusions before, with disastrous results.
Right now, all they knew was that the body was likely female.
It could be any female.
And that realization chilled him.
Kate could have ended up in the morgue last year, along with the Body Butcher’s other victims.
She could have been the one on the autopsy table, her remains being examined to determine how she had died, how she had defended herself.
She would have been identified as “female, age twenty-five to thirty-five, shoulder-length brown hair.”
But what she felt, and who had occupied her last thoughts, no one would have ever known.
He wanted Kate’s last moments to be with him. With love in her heart. And the knowledge that they had been happy together.
When he faced his maker, he wanted to be with Kate the same way.
And have no regrets.
He had seen enough dead bodies on these autopsy tables to know that some would have regretted their actions that led them to this final destination; others would have regrets for actions not taken before this final destination.
He did not want regrets.
This desiccated body, this leathery shell that had once housed a vibrant young woman was impetus enough.
Why was he wasting time?
Life was too short.
He’d never know until he tried.
Remember, third time’s the charm, Drake.
He would call Kate. Tonight.
If nothing else, to stop the self-help clichés that kept urging him on.
“The hair inside the mask is brown,” Lamond said, as if reading Ethan’s mind. He shivered. Kate’s hair was brown. That must be a sign from the universe.
Stop it, Drake.
Dr. Guthro began the external exam. The mummified tissue extended to just below the diaphragm. The left arm was also mummified, but the rest of her limbs were skeletonized. The skeleton was surprisingly intact—again, a sign that rodents hadn’t found it—with the exception of the ulna that Rebecca Chen had unwittingly removed in her zeal to complete her biology lab.
“Some evidence of adipocere on the left anterior femur,” Dr. Guthro said. Adipocere, Ethan had learned from experience, was a white waxy substance that occurred when the fatty tissues of a body had a post-mortem enzyme reaction due to cold, moist conditions, resulting in saponification of the tissue. Essentially, the chemical reaction of the fatty tissues created a soaplike substance, known as grave wax.
The morgue attendant turned the body over. At first glance, the decomposition on the posterior view was almost identical to the anterior: mummification of the tissue to a midpoint of the torso, as well as the entire left arm. The rest of the body was skeletonized with adipocere on the coccyx and upper left femur. A member of the FIS team took photos while Dr. Guthro slowly circled the body. But it was Dr. Hughes who noticed the mark first.
Dr. Hughes pointed to a spot almost at the base of the corpse’s neck. “There. Do you see that mark, Dr. Guthro? It’s not dirt.”
Dr. Guthro picked up a magnifying glass. He frowned. “Looks like a very crude tattoo.”
Ferguson threw Ethan a look. Did Rigby have a tattoo?
He did a mental run-through of Heather’s description in the dog-eared missing-persons file, and gave a subtle shake of his head.
No, she did not.
11
Y oshi, her old friend and owner of Yakusoku Tattoo, had told her to park in the back of the building. He hadn’t mentioned that finding the driveway would be so difficult. All these old buildings were connected. Kenzie slowed her car and peered through the side window.
There. Three buildings over, she spotted the narrow carriage lane that led to the parking lot. She eased her car between the brick buildings, careful of the rental
Or not.
Who knew? He needed to keep reminding himself that they had no objective confirmation that this dead girl was Heather Rigby. He had jumped to conclusions before, with disastrous results.
Right now, all they knew was that the body was likely female.
It could be any female.
And that realization chilled him.
Kate could have ended up in the morgue last year, along with the Body Butcher’s other victims.
She could have been the one on the autopsy table, her remains being examined to determine how she had died, how she had defended herself.
She would have been identified as “female, age twenty-five to thirty-five, shoulder-length brown hair.”
But what she felt, and who had occupied her last thoughts, no one would have ever known.
He wanted Kate’s last moments to be with him. With love in her heart. And the knowledge that they had been happy together.
When he faced his maker, he wanted to be with Kate the same way.
And have no regrets.
He had seen enough dead bodies on these autopsy tables to know that some would have regretted their actions that led them to this final destination; others would have regrets for actions not taken before this final destination.
He did not want regrets.
This desiccated body, this leathery shell that had once housed a vibrant young woman was impetus enough.
Why was he wasting time?
Life was too short.
He’d never know until he tried.
Remember, third time’s the charm, Drake.
He would call Kate. Tonight.
If nothing else, to stop the self-help clichés that kept urging him on.
“The hair inside the mask is brown,” Lamond said, as if reading Ethan’s mind. He shivered. Kate’s hair was brown. That must be a sign from the universe.
Stop it, Drake.
Dr. Guthro began the external exam. The mummified tissue extended to just below the diaphragm. The left arm was also mummified, but the rest of her limbs were skeletonized. The skeleton was surprisingly intact—again, a sign that rodents hadn’t found it—with the exception of the ulna that Rebecca Chen had unwittingly removed in her zeal to complete her biology lab.
“Some evidence of adipocere on the left anterior femur,” Dr. Guthro said. Adipocere, Ethan had learned from experience, was a white waxy substance that occurred when the fatty tissues of a body had a post-mortem enzyme reaction due to cold, moist conditions, resulting in saponification of the tissue. Essentially, the chemical reaction of the fatty tissues created a soaplike substance, known as grave wax.
The morgue attendant turned the body over. At first glance, the decomposition on the posterior view was almost identical to the anterior: mummification of the tissue to a midpoint of the torso, as well as the entire left arm. The rest of the body was skeletonized with adipocere on the coccyx and upper left femur. A member of the FIS team took photos while Dr. Guthro slowly circled the body. But it was Dr. Hughes who noticed the mark first.
Dr. Hughes pointed to a spot almost at the base of the corpse’s neck. “There. Do you see that mark, Dr. Guthro? It’s not dirt.”
Dr. Guthro picked up a magnifying glass. He frowned. “Looks like a very crude tattoo.”
Ferguson threw Ethan a look. Did Rigby have a tattoo?
He did a mental run-through of Heather’s description in the dog-eared missing-persons file, and gave a subtle shake of his head.
No, she did not.
11
Y oshi, her old friend and owner of Yakusoku Tattoo, had told her to park in the back of the building. He hadn’t mentioned that finding the driveway would be so difficult. All these old buildings were connected. Kenzie slowed her car and peered through the side window.
There. Three buildings over, she spotted the narrow carriage lane that led to the parking lot. She eased her car between the brick buildings, careful of the rental
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