Find Her Alive (Detective Josie Quinn #8) - Lisa Regan Page 0,27
into the hallway, Josie asked, “Can you tell how this woman died?”
Dr. Feist frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t. There is no evidence of trauma. No fractures of any kind. No damage from bullets. Her hyoid is intact. If she had been strangled, I’d expect to see damage to the hyoid. Although that’s not one hundred percent accurate as an indicator. She might have been strangled without her hyoid being damaged. She could have asphyxiated—that wouldn’t cause visible trauma to the bones. I don’t see any marks that indicate that she might have been stabbed, although it’s possible she was stabbed, and the damage was to the soft tissue only. At this advanced stage of decomposition, there’s no soft tissue left for me to make that determination.”
Josie said, “So right now all we know is that this is a Caucasian woman, likely in her forties or older, who has probably had children. What about distinguishing characteristics? Individual characteristics?”
Dr. Feist frowned. “I’m afraid there’s nothing.”
Gretchen returned to the room, her phone in hand. “Dr. Feist, check your email. Noah got Trinity’s dental records.”
“That was fast,” Dr. Feist said, walking over to the stainless-steel counter to open her laptop.
If Noah had been there, Josie would have hugged him. She was certain his doggedness had procured the dental x-rays in record time. It often took several days for the police department to obtain the necessary records or images to move their cases forward.
A few moments later, Dr. Feist’s screen showed images of Trinity’s dental x-rays side by side with those that had been taken of the woman on the autopsy table. Josie and Gretchen crowded in on either side of the doctor, studying the images. Dr. Feist pointed to several places on the mystery woman’s x-rays where posts had been placed into her root canals to hold crowns in place. “Trinity doesn’t have this many crowns and hers are on the top. None on the bottom.” She turned and met Josie’s eyes, a grim smile on her face. “This woman is not your sister.”
Tears stung the backs of Josie’s eyes. There was a chance of getting Trinity back alive.
Gretchen said, “If they’re not Trinity’s remains, whose are they?”
Fifteen
Alex sat on the bench next to the front door, itchy in the stiff suit his parents had made him wear. Zandra had wanted to wear a puffy, glittery pink dress with matching pink bows in her hair. There had been quite an argument over her choice, which their parents had won. Frances chose the outfit, and that was that.
From upstairs Alex could hear his parents talking. Moments later, his mother descended the steps wearing a silky red dress and heels, her long brown hair swept back from her face. She looked like a movie star. A few minutes later, his father came down, dressed in his only suit. He looked at Alex. “This is a big night for your mother,” he said gravely. “There will be some very important people at her art show this evening. If she sells just one piece, it could mean financial security for our entire family. Do you understand?”
Hanna placed an elegant hand on Frances’s arm. “You don’t need to worry about Alex, not tonight.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” he told her. Turning back to Alex, he said, “If you don’t keep your sister in check, you’ll be sleeping in the yard for a month, do you understand?”
Hanna’s brow furrowed. “Really, Frances, it’s going to be fine. Alex and Zandra know how important this night is for our family. Alex will do everything he can to make sure things go off perfectly. He has a stake in it, too, you know.”
She gave Alex a conspiratorial smile.
Frances frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The painting you love so much? The one you said should be the centerpiece of the show? Alex finished it, not me. The wings were his idea. He collected the feathers and arranged them on the canvas. Amazing, isn’t it? Perhaps he’ll be an artist like me.”
Alex expected Frances to be as delighted with this news as Hanna was delivering it. Instead, his dark eyes flashed with fury. He whirled on Hanna. “You let the boy finish your painting?”
Hanna took two uneven steps back, away from him. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone loves it. Besides, we’re the only ones who know.”
Frances pointed a finger at Alex, but kept his gaze on Hanna. “You let this stupid, awful boy destroy the very centerpiece of your show? Are you out of