away and walked out the door.
Chapter 8
UPON RETURNING HOME, the first thing D.D. did was call the medical examiner, Ben Whitley. Alex had had to continue on to work, so she was alone in the house, sprawled on the sofa, still wearing yoga clothes from the morning’s analysis of her own injuries.
“I have a question,” she said the moment Ben picked up.
“D.D.!” Ben’s voice boomed in her ear. The ME wasn’t necessarily the world’s most outgoing personality, but during the years he’d dated D.D.’s squad mate Neil, they’d gotten to know each other personally and, even after the breakup, had remained friends. “Heard about the avulsion fracture. Leave it to you to injure yourself in the most creative way possible.”
“I try.”
“Left arm?”
“Yes.”
“Icing? Exercising? Resting?”
“Yes. Yes. Mostly.”
“You must be losing your mind.”
“Yes!”
“Which is why you’re calling me. Let me guess, you want to know about our latest skinning victim.”
“No.”
For the first time, Ben paused. D.D. could practically hear him thinking over the phone line.
“Not the second victim,” she supplied graciously. “I figured you were just now getting to that exam.”
“Slated for later this afternoon.”
“Sounds about right. So I have a question about the first victim, Christine Ryan, as I’m assuming you’ve had more time with those remains. And given you’re a savvy medical examiner, one of the best we’ve ever had—”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“And you’ve already examined the excised skin . . .”
“True.”
“You may have some working theories on the blade used by the killer?”
“True again. Very thin, no nicks or damages to the edge. Question of the day, however, was it a knife edge, or perhaps a razor?”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. But now, considering . . . “Wouldn’t a razor be difficult to manage through such an . . . involved process? I mean, as a cutting instrument, given the thin strips, okay. But factor in the number of thin strips, and to be blunt, wouldn’t a razor become too slippery to handle?”
“Could be attached to a handle. Think of the classic straight blade used for shaving, or for that matter, a box cutter. My other thought for the day, perhaps it was a scalpel. But I’m veering away from knives. For one thing, I’ve tested dozens over the past few weeks and none provide the same results. At least in my tests, a larger, thicker blade has a tendency to pull on the skin, leading to puckering along the edges. Whereas, our subject . . . He is removing very fine, smooth-edged ribbons of tissue. Which, may I add, clearly indicates practice. Even with my own training, it took a number of tries to execute well. Of course, I was hindered in the beginning by poor weapons choices. Now that I have expanded my search to include surgical instruments, I seem to be coming closer to replicating his precise excise patterns.”
“Okay.” D.D. had to pause for a moment. She hadn’t considered that the killer might have used a scalpel and could be someone with at least basic surgical training. But given her recent brainstorm, a scalpel didn’t necessarily eliminate, and in fact . . . “I’m going to suppose,” she continued now, “that an ME of your fortitude—”
“Already buttered up. Move along, D.D. It is a busy day.”
“You tried to reassemble the skin strips. Re-create the whole.”
“Tried being the operative word.”
“You couldn’t succeed.” Her voice picked up, her heart quickening. Here it was, her middle-of-the-night stroke of brilliance: “Because it turned out, you don’t have all the pieces. Some of the ribbons of skin are missing. The killer took them with him.”
“Ding, ding, ding. Give the beautiful blond detective a prize. Tell me the truth, is it your golden ringlets that give you your edge?”
“Absolutely. How much skin is missing? Are we talking a little or a lot?”
“Say, approximately half a dozen ribbons of excised flesh. Enough a living victim would certainly notice the loss.”
Which was what she had guessed. That the skinning aspect of the murders was more than just a fetish, but also a means of providing what the killer desired most; an extremely personal memento of his crime.
She returned her attention to the phone: “Last question,” she stated to Ben. “The victim’s skin. Was it treated with anything beforehand? Meaning it possibly tested positive for some interesting chemicals? Say alcohol, or even formaldehyde?”
“You’re wondering if the killer attempted to preserve his trophy by first wiping down his victim with some sort of solution?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“To answer your question: yes and no.