Near You (Montana Series #2) - Mary Burton Page 0,26

for the school year,” Dr. Christopher said.

“That’s the plan.”

Dr. Christopher’s easy banter softened the worry lines on Ann’s face as she followed the doctor toward a large computer screen. Bryce had been to his share of autopsies, but he was still shocked by what a human could do to another.

“First, let’s look at the X-rays.” Dr. Christopher pressed several keys, and the image of a human skeleton appeared. “As you can see, the victim suffered no broken bones during her murder, but about ten years ago, she suffered an ankle fracture. There is a plate in place, which I’ll remove during the autopsy and determine if there’s a serial number.”

“That might help with a faster identification,” Bryce said.

“It might. Any luck with the first victim?” Dr. Christopher asked.

“None,” Bryce said.

Dr. Christopher indicated three different marks angled on the underside of the breastbone. “These marks on the rib cage were made by the murder weapon. I believe the knife was a long narrow blade with smooth edges.”

“How can you determine the knife size?” Ann asked.

“I can’t exactly,” Dr. Christopher said. “But I can say a larger hunting knife, say with a serrated edge, would have left a different mark.”

“How many times was she stabbed?” Ann asked.

Dr. Christopher switched screens to a photograph taken of the body. “I’d say five times. I’ll know better when I open her up, but I believe this cut,” he said, pointing to the largest on the left side, “was her last, and it finished her off. Even if she had been close to a hospital emergency room, she wouldn’t have survived.”

“How do you know it’s the last cut?” Ann asked.

Dr. Christopher swiped to another image. “You’ll notice a small triangle of metal on the underside of the breastbone. I’d say that’s the tip of your murder weapon. If he continued to stab with the damaged blade, the shape of the cuts would have varied.”

Ann leaned closer, studying the image with a keen curiosity. “I would think she would have had time to see the knife coming.”

“It’s easy to underestimate the speed of a knife blade,” Bryce said. “Cops are trained to follow the Twenty-One-Foot Rule when dealing with an offender armed with a knife.”

“Meaning?” she asked.

“In the time it takes the officer to identify the threat, draw his weapon, and fire, the offender can travel twenty-one feet and deliver a lethal thrust of a knife.”

“If the picture I found is the victim,” she said, “it suggests she was acquainted with her killer.”

“That’s an interesting point,” Dr. Christopher said. “All the wounds are angled upward. If the killer had been rushing directly at her, it’s likely the slashes would have been downward.” He raised and lowered his arm to illustrate.

“A well-placed knife jab isn’t easy,” Bryce said. “The target is often moving and fighting back. Does she have any defensive wounds?”

“No,” Dr. Christopher said.

“Over fifty percent of murdered women are killed by an acquaintance or an intimate partner,” Ann said.

Killing via knife was messy. Blood spatter often sprayed the attacker, surrounding walls, and ground. Blood also could embed into the knife handle’s crevices and remain despite a careful cleaning. That, combined with a broken tip, meant it would not be hard to link the weapon to the crimes if and when Bryce found it.

As the doctor motioned them toward the body, each donned masks and protective eye gear. A medical technician, Jessica Leonard, entered the room. In her late fifties, Jessica had salt-and-pepper hair and olive skin. She was a fourth-generation Montana native and a retired emergency room nurse.

“We’ve drawn blood and sent it off for drug testing,” she said.

“Results will take a few weeks,” Dr. Christopher said. “The July victim’s toxicology results came back late yesterday. No drugs in her system, but she had a high blood alcohol count.”

Jessica opened the instrument packet and then removed the sheet draped on the body. The remains were blackened, twisted, and the limbs had grown rigid from rigor mortis. What remained of the victim’s hands and feet had contracted inward, and the victim’s hair had been scorched off. The face was barely recognizable as human.

They all went silent, and Bryce was aware that Ann’s breathing had grown shallow. As tempted as he was to offer words of encouragement, there was little he could say to soften this blow. She would have to gut this one out, as all cops did during their first autopsy.

The doctor ran his gloved finger along the blackened and cracked skin of the right biceps.