Crush - Alan Jacobson [50]
“But,” Aaron said, raising an index finger, “the skin on one of her hands was partially preserved, for some reason. Still, I couldn’t figure out how to lift a fingerprint we could put in the system. Then I remembered this case I read about involving a 1948 military plane crash.
For decades, one of the victims went unidentified. They tried everything, including DNA. But a George Washington University forensic science professor soaked the man’s hand in a chemical they used to ID Katrina victims. Eventually, he was able to rehydrate the skin and secure a print from the index pad.”
“And . . .” Brix said.
Aaron smiled and leaned back. “And that’s what I did. And presto. We have an ID.”
Brix raised his eyebrows, asking the question silently.
“Oh—the victim’s name is Ursula Robbins.” Aaron reached into his deep pocket and pulled out a notepad. Flipped a page and said, “Robbins went missing and was presumed dead a little over two years ago. No children, early fifties. I’m working on getting a photo for all of you. All I know is she was the chief executive of a winery in the Georges Valley District.”
“Okay,” Brix said, “Ray, that’s yours.”
“A few more things, then I’ll be out of your way,” Aaron said. “About that toenail thing—very interesting, actually. I’ve never seen that before. But it takes a few years for a buried body, one that’s not prepared or preserved in any way, to skeletalize completely. By that I mean for it to turn completely to bone, no soft tissue left. Nails are protein, keratin to be precise, like hair, so they stick around for a while. In this case, your victim had nail polish on her toes, preserving them and keeping them intact. Otherwise, once putrefaction gets underway, the skin on the hands and feet can slip off intact, a process called degloving.”
“Degloving, cool,” Fuller said.
Aaron looked over at Fuller and squinted confusion. “Yeah, okay. Well, the fact that the victim used nail polish means the other nails remained intact.”
Vail said, “Hang on a minute. We don’t know if the victim put on the nail polish or if the killer did it. If the killer has some knowledge of forensic anthropology, he might’ve known the skin and nails would slough off, so he put the nail polish on to keep all the nails intact—except for the one he pulled off.”
Brix lifted his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what to do with that. Let’s keep that in mind. Our UNSUB might have a knowledge of forensic anthropology. So he could be a pathologist.”
Vail shrugged. “Possible. Or a forensic scientist.”
A few heads turned toward Aaron.
Brix pointed at Lugo. “Ray, you’ve got that too. Get some help if you need it. Run all the people in the area who’ve had training in those fields. Including the ones in our office.” He glanced at Aaron. “See if any have a record—mental illness, drug habits, propensity toward violence—”
“Got it,” Lugo said.
Fuller said, “We already know that these two vics, and the one in Vallejo, were done by the same guy. If we can find some commonalities in these three women’s victimologies, I say we got this UNSUB.”
Vail scrunched her face. “Well . . . let’s just say that these vics are probably done by the same guy and that evaluating the victimologies might help us identify him.”
Fuller rolled his eyes, as if to say Vail’s comment was merely a difference in semantics.
“But I come back to access,” Vail said. “Access might be the commonality we’re looking for.”
There was a knock at the door. It swung open and in walked Burt Gordon, followed by Art Rooney. Vail couldn’t help but smile. Seeing Rooney in this setting gave her a sense of warmth and comfort.
Brix nodded at Gordon and said, “Take a seat, gentlemen.” As they were complying, he turned to the whiteboard and wrote “Vic 2 Ursula Robbins-Ray Lugo.” He spun back to the conference table and said, “I want to thank Special Agent