a tough time getting the job done?” Maggie said out loud, not really expecting an answer.
“Maybe she put up a hell of a fight,” Racine suggested.
The girl was small, barely sixty-two inches, according to Stan’s measurements. Maggie doubted that she could have managed much of a fight.
“Maybe he didn’t want to get the job done right away.” Tully surprised her with his hushed remark. She could feel him close by, looking over her shoulder.
“You mean he just wanted her unconscious?” Racine asked.
Maggie tried not to get distracted and pressed the transparent tape against the girl’s skin, pushing it into one of the ligature grooves.
“He might simply have gotten off on watching her pass out,” Tully said, exactly what Maggie had been thinking. “It could have been part of some autoerotic asphyxiation.”
“That could explain her dying while sitting up,” Maggie said. “Maybe her position was simply a part of his sick game.”
“What are you doing with the tape?” Racine asked her.
Ah, so the good detective would finally admit to not knowing something. Maggie lifted the tape while Stan held a slide up for her to attach it to. When it was safely secure, Maggie raised it up to the light.
“Depending on what the killer used, we can sometimes pick up fibers left in the tracks.”
“That’s if he used a rope or some kind of clothing,” Tully added.
“Or any sort of fabric or nylon. Doesn’t look like any fibers here. But there is something odd. Looks like glitter.”
“Glitter?” Stan was suddenly interested. She handed him the slide and went back to the girl’s throat.
“He must have used something strong and thin.” Maggie pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. “Probably a cord. Maybe something like a clothesline.” She examined the sides of the neck. “Doesn’t appear to be a knot.”
“Does that mean anything?” Tully asked.
“It could help us if he’s done this before. We might be able to match up something already on VICAP. Sometimes killers use the same kind of knot each time. That was one of the identifying factors of the Boston Strangler. He used the same knot on all thirteen of his victims.”
“O’Dell, you sure know your trivia about serial killers,” Racine jabbed.
Maggie knew she meant it as an innocent joke, but snapped back, “It wouldn’t hurt you to know some. You can bet the killers know.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
“Maybe I need to come to Quantico and take a couple of your classes.”
Oh, wonderful, Maggie thought. That was all she needed—to have Julia Racine as a student. Or was that what Racine was hoping for? Did the detective have aspirations of being an FBI agent? Maggie shoved the thought aside and concentrated on the girl’s throat.
She ran an index finger over the deep, red scars. As she did this, she noticed a bump. Not just a bump, but a swollen area in the soft underside of the girl’s throat. “Wait a minute. Stan, did you check her mouth yet?”
“Not yet. But we’ll need to get dental prints if there was no ID.”
“I think there’s something in her throat.”
She hesitated. Both men and Racine hovered over the body and over Maggie, waiting and watching. As soon as Maggie pried open the mouth, she could smell it, a sweet almond scent. Again, she hesitated and glanced up at Stan.
“Do you smell that?”
He sniffed the air. Maggie knew not everyone was capable of smelling the scent, actually about fifty percent of the population. It was Tully who finally answered, “Cyanide?”
Maggie used an index finger to scoop inside both cheeks and removed a partially dissolved capsule. Stan held up an open plastic bag.
“What’s with cyanide these days?” Stan said, then noticed the warning look Maggie shot him.
“What kind of crazy son of a bitch gives his victim a cyanide pill after he’s strangled her? Or is that the cause of death?” Racine sounded impatient. She didn’t seem to notice the exchange between Stan and Maggie, who had both recognized the red-and-white capsule. Enough of it was intact to see that the capsule bore the same brand name they had extracted from the five boys in the cabin just last weekend.
“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Stan finally answered.
He was growing impatient, too, but for the moment he was keeping what he knew quiet. Evidently he had read Maggie’s urgent look accurately. If there was a connection between this girl and those boys, Racine would know soon enough. For the moment, it was one