“He asked that I walk you through my sense of the victim and some of the things I’ve taken away from reviewing the case.”
“By all means. I’m all ears.”
“Okay. First, you’re looking for a male between—”
“Because?” Walt said, cutting her off.
“Male? Because it was a single blow to the head that killed him.”
Walt was suddenly aware of his own pounding heart and the sound of the forced air coming from the wall vent. Something so simple. Something he’d not considered. “A single blow,” he repeated.
“Yes. The blow was high on the back of the victim’s head. A single, fatal blow, requiring, I would think, a substantial amount of strength. The medical examiner could help you there. You’ve cracked a few skulls in your time, I would imagine, Sheriff, haven’t you?” “I have.”
“Then you know.”
“I do,” Walt said. “Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“It’s what I do,” she said, trying to let him off the hook. “It’s not inconceivable, I suppose, that a woman could deliver such a blow, but I play percentages. Statistics. And statistically we would put this into the male column. Another thing: a woman would likely deliver a blow to the side of the head, not the top down. Most women have not swung a bat or an ax as often as men, and they learn to swing a bat right to left. If they picked one up in self-defense, they would swing the bat right to left. Gale was struck high on the skull, straight down, like the person doing it was chopping wood. Listen, this is all speculation, I can easily be wrong and often am, believe me.”
“No. It’s good stuff. I’m with you.”
“He’d be between . . . let’s say early twenties and late thirties—again, in part due to the considerable strength it would take to dispatch a man of Gale’s size with a single blow. He’s strong, and he’s fit. Gale is carrying a few wounds on his hands and forearms—possibly defensive. But I’m guessing those came after the blow. I’m thinking his killer sneaked up on him. Surprised him from behind. That carries its own implications: a hunter, a stalker. And the blow to the head was meant to kill, not wound. It was lights out, game over, from the start of that swing.
“As to Gale,” she continued, “from what we can gather . . . from your contact with the Narcotics Anonymous member, his purpose for being in your area is, at the very least, unusual. Contrary to the image of vengeful paroled felon, in light of what we now know, I would suggest he was a remorseful, recovering addict. Typically such people working through the twelve steps are upbeat, even optimistic, remorseful, forgiving and in need of forgiveness. Can they turn violent? Of course. I’m not saying I can predict that one way or the other, but statistically I would not put Gale very high up the list of Caroline Vetta’s likely killers, and I’ve told the sergeant as much. If he was there on a ninth-step call, then I think we need to see him more in the light of a reconciler. He would have come to apologize, to make amends, to atone. And the thing is, he’s already internalized this. Already accepted his failures, which is central to his state of mind. He’s turned control of his life over to another, and has likely distanced himself from that other man, the Gale of the past. No matter if a person like Caroline Vetta ranted and vented, blamed him, screamed, threw a tantrum, he would likely have two reactions: stand there and take it, accept it; or turn and leave. I just don’t see him beating her to death, especially not in the capacity this crime was carried out.
“How does that inform your investigation?” she asked rhetorically.
“It goes to state of mind of the deceased. Let’s say he met with Caroline Vetta. Let’s say when he left her, she was very much alive. Let’s say he then learns of her death, her brutal death, and understands the system well enough to know he’s going to be first in line. This puts him in a difficult, even desperate situation. He’s assuming someone like the sergeant is coming after him. He still has the step calls to make. That may sound absurd, but recovering addicts get focused, Sheriff. They get into the program, and for some, it’s all they know. All they live for. He’s there in Sun