from arthritis. Sara could see a callous along the webbing between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He was used to holding tools, fixing or creating things. Aimee was clearly a businesswoman, the one who took care of the details. Sara’s own parents shared the same dynamic.
Sara offered, “Let me walk you through the steps of what an exhumation encompasses. You can ask as many questions as you like. I will answer as honestly as I can. Then I can leave you alone, or you can go away to talk, so that you can both make an informed decision.”
“You need our permission?” Larry asked.
Amanda could find a way around it, but not with Sara’s help. She told the father, “Yes, I need your written permission before I will exhume the body.”
“Could Shay have …” He searched for the words. “If she did it to herself, you would see that? You could tell us?”
Sara said, “I can’t make guarantees, but if there is evidence of self-harm, it’s possible I’ll be able to find it.”
He said, “So, you don’t really know what you’re looking for, and you don’t really know what you’ll find.”
Sara was not going to give them the brutal details. “I can only promise that I will be as respectful, and as thorough, with your daughter’s remains as possible.”
“But,” Aimee said. “You suspect something. You think something is suspicious, otherwise, you wouldn’t go through this, correct?”
“Correct.”
“We don’t—” Larry stopped himself. “I don’t have a lot of money.”
“You would not have to pay for the exhumation or the re-internment.”
“Okay. Well.” He was running out of reasons to say no, other than that his heart was shattering all over again. “When do you need an answer?”
“I don’t want to rush you,” Sara looked back at Aimee so that she felt included. “This is an important decision, but if you’re asking me for a deadline, I would say the sooner the better.”
He nodded slowly, acknowledging the information. “And then what? We write a letter?”
“There are forms that—”
“I don’t need forms, or steps or time,” Aimee said. “You’ll dig her up. You’ll look inside of her. You’ll tell us what happened. I say yes, do it now. Larry?”
Larry’s palm was pressed to his chest. He wasn’t ready. “It’s been three years. Wouldn’t she be …”
Sara explained, “When you arranged the burial, you requested that she be placed in a vault. If the air-seal is intact, and I have no reason to believe it isn’t, then the body would be in good condition.”
Larry’s eyes closed. Tears squeezed out. Every muscle in his body was tensed, as if he wanted to physically fight off Sara’s request.
Aimee wasn’t blind to her ex-husband’s pain. Her voice was softer when she told Sara, “Maybe I do need the steps. How would this work?”
“We would schedule the exhumation early in the morning. That’s best so you don’t get onlookers.” She watched Larry wince. “You could be there if you wanted to be. Or you don’t have to attend. It’s your choice. All of this is your choice.”
“Would we—” Larry stopped. “Would we see her?”
“I would strongly advise against it.”
Aimee had taken a tissue from her purse. She blotted away her tears, trying not to smudge her eyeliner. “You would do the autopsy here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sara said. “She’ll be brought to this building. I’ll do X-rays to look for broken bones or fractures or any foreign objects that might have been previously missed. I’ll perform an autopsy and examine the organs and tissue. Embalming interferes with toxicology studies, but hair and nails might provide answers.”
“Is it that obvious?” Aimee asked. “Can you just tell if something is wrong?”
Again, Sara held back the details. “My goal is to be able to tell you both definitively whether Shay’s death was accidental or by another means.”
Aimee asked, “You mean murder?”
“Murder?” Larry struggled with the word. “What do you mean, murder? Who would hurt our—”
“Larry,” Aimee said, her voice softer. “Either Shay accidentally died alone in the woods, or she took her own life, or someone murdered her. There’s nothing else that could’ve happened.”
Larry looked to Sara for confirmation.
Sara nodded.
“What if—” Larry’s voice caught. “Will you be able to tell other things?”
Aimee asked, “What other things?”
Sara knew what he was most afraid of. “Mr. Van Dorne, if your daughter was murdered, it’s possible that she was raped.”
He would not meet Sara’s gaze. “You’ll be able to tell?”
“How?” Aimee asked. “From sperm? Could you get his DNA?”
“No, ma’am. Any genetic material would have