Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [367]
She joined Stan. He had already begun his external examination of the girl’s body and was taking measurements. She helped him with the menial tasks of placing the body block and removing fluid samples. It felt good to concentrate on something concrete, something familiar and constructive. She had worked with Stan enough times to know which tasks he’d allowed her to do, and which she needed to stand back and simply watch.
Maggie carefully slipped the paper bags off each of the girl’s hands and began scraping under the fingernails. There was plenty of material to scrape, which, ordinarily, would mean the girl might be able to tell them through DNA who her attacker had been. But from a preliminary look at the girl’s neck, Maggie could see at least a dozen horizontal crescentic abrasions among the various raw and deep ligature tracks and massive bruising. Horizontal marks meant it was a safe guess that much of the skin behind the girl’s fingernails was her own, caused by her clawing at the ligature.
Stan snapped enough Polaroids to fill the corkboard over the main sink. Then he removed his gloves, and for the third time since they had started, he scrubbed his hands, applying lotion and massaging it into his skin before putting on a fresh pair of gloves. Maggie was used to his strange ritual, but once in a while it made her acutely aware of the blood on her own gloves. Today would be one of those times.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Agent Tully said from the doorway where he stood, hesitating. He was dripping wet—even the brim of his baseball cap was soaked. He took off the cap and raked the wetness from his close-cropped hair. At first, Maggie thought his hesitancy was because he didn’t want to get the floor wet, which was crazy because it was cement with drains strategically positioned for nastier run-off than rainwater. But then, she saw he was waiting for someone. Detective Racine appeared behind Tully, looking too dry and refreshed to have come from the same place as him.
“Are we all here now?” Stan asked with the grumble he had suppressed until now.
“Yep. We’re all here and ready,” Racine sang out, rubbing her hands together as if they were gathering for a game of dodge ball.
Maggie had forgotten that Racine would be at the autopsy. It was her case—of course she’d want to be here. The last time Maggie worked with Racine the detective had been assigned to the sex crimes unit. Now she couldn’t help wondering if Racine had ever watched an autopsy before. Suddenly, Maggie was anxious to get to work.
“Shoe covers, masks, everything’s in the linen closet,” Stan said, pointing. “No one watches without being properly gowned up. Got it?”
“No problem.” Racine whipped off her leather bomber jacket and headed for the closet.
Tully lagged behind, taking more time than necessary to wring out his windbreaker and cap over one of the drains. He glanced several times at the girl’s body, splayed out on the aluminum table. Maggie realized suddenly she may have been mistaken. Was it possible Tully was the one who had never witnessed an autopsy?
Before he transferred to Quantico, Tully had been doing criminal analysis at the Cleveland field office for five or six years. But she also knew much of that time was spent viewing crime scenes via photos, digital scans and video. He had admitted once that he hadn’t physically attended many murder scenes until the Albert Stucky case. It was altogether possible he had never attended an autopsy until now. Damn it! And she had been so hoping it would be Racine who