Blindsighted (Grant County #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,65

feet down.” Sara picked up the woman’s hand, noticing a fresh scar at the wrist. The other had the same mark. Julia Matthews had attempted suicide at some point during the last month. The scar was a white line slashing vertically across her small wrist. A dark bruise put the old wound in stark relief.

Sara did not bring this to Hare’s attention. Instead, she offered, “It looks to me like a band was used, probably leather.”

“I’m not following.”

“The piercing was symbolic.”

“Of?”

“Crucifixion, I would imagine.” Sara put the woman’s hand back by her side.

Sara rubbed her arms, fighting the chill in the room. She walked over, opening drawers, looking for a sheet to cover the young woman. “If I had to guess, I would say that the hands and feet were nailed back from the body.”

“Crucifixion?” Hare dismissed this. “That’s not how Jesus was crucified. The feet would be together.”

Sara snapped, “Nobody wanted to rape Jesus, Hare. Of course her legs were spread apart.”

Hare’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed this. “Is this what you do at the morgue?”

She shrugged, looking for a sheet.

“Christ, you’ve got more balls than I do,” Hare said, breathing heavily.

Sara tucked the sheet around the young woman, trying to comfort her. “I don’t know about that,” she said.

Hare asked, “What about her mouth?”

“Her front teeth were knocked out, I imagine to facilitate fellatio.”

His voice rose in shock. “What?”

“It’s more common than you think,” Sara told him. “The Clorox removes trace evidence. I imagine he shaved her so we couldn’t do a comb for his pubic hair. Even during normal sex, hairs are torn out. He could have shaved her for the sexual thrill, though. A lot of attackers like to think of their victims as children. Shaving the pubic hair would fuel that fantasy.”

Hare shook his head, overcome with the nastiness of the crime. “What kind of animal would do this?”

Sara stroked back the woman’s hair. “A methodical one.”

“Do you think she knew him?”

“No,” Sara answered, never more sure of anything in her life. She walked over to the counter where Lena had left the evidence bag. “Why did he give us her driver’s license? He doesn’t care if we know who she is.”

Hare’s tone was incredulous. “How can you be so sure?”

“He left—” Sara tried to catch her breath. “He left her in front of the hospital where anybody could’ve seen him dump her.” She put her hand over her eyes for just a second, wishing that she could hide. She had to get out of this room. That much she was certain of.

Hare seemed to be trying to read her expression. His face, normally open and kind, took on a stern look. “She was raped in a hospital.”

“Outside a hospital.”

“Her mouth was taped shut.”

“I know that.”

“By someone who obviously has some kind of religious fixation.”

“Right.”

“Sara—”

She held up her hand for silence as Lena returned.

Lena said, “Frank’s on his way.”

Thursday

14

Jeffrey blinked his eyes several times, forcing himself not to go back to sleep. For a few seconds, he did not know where he was, but a quick glance around the room reminded him of what had happened last night. He looked over at the window, his eyes taking their time coming into focus. He saw Sara.

He leaned his head back into the pillow, letting out a long sigh. “Remember when I used to brush your hair?”

“Sir?”

Jeffrey opened his eyes. “Lena?”

She seemed embarrassed as she walked over to the bed. “Yeah.”

“I thought you were…” He waved this off. “Never mind.”

Jeffrey forced himself to sit up in bed, despite the pain shooting through his right leg. He felt stiff and drugged, but he knew if he did not stay upright, the rest of the day would be blown.

“Hand me my pants,” he said.

“They had to throw them away,” she reminded him. “Remember what happened?”

Jeffrey grumbled an answer as he put his feet on the floor. Standing hurt like a hot knife in his leg, but he could live with the pain. “Can you find me some pants?” he asked.

Lena left the room and Jeffrey leaned against the wall so that he wouldn’t sit back down. He tried to remember what had happened the night before. Part of him didn’t want to deal with it. There was enough on his plate trying to find out who had killed Sibyl Adams.

“How are these?” Lena asked, tossing him a pair of scrubs.

“Great,” Jeffrey said, waiting for her to turn around. He slipped them on, suppressing a groan as he lifted