Flash and Bones - Kathy Reichs [7]
Though anxious for Gamble to get on with his story, I didn’t interrupt.
“The summer before her senior year, Cindi started dating another wannabe driver, a guy named Cale Lovette. That fall, Cindi and Cale both vanished. Bang. Gone without a trace. No one’s seen them since.”
Gamble’s eyes met mine. In them I saw apprehension. And resurrected pain.
“My folks went crazy. Posted flyers all over town. Handed them out in malls. Nothing.” Gamble wiped his palms on his jeans. “I’ve got to know. Could that body be my sister?”
“What makes you think Cindi is dead?”
“The police said the two of them left town together. But Cindi’s whole life was NASCAR. I mean, she was on fire to drive. What better place to do that than Charlotte? Why would she just pick up and leave? And she’s never turned up anywhere else.”
“There was an investigation?”
Gamble snorted in disgust. “The cops poked around for a while, decided Cindi and Cale took off to get married. She was too young to do that without parental approval.”
“You doubt that theory?”
Gamble’s shoulders rose, fell. “Hell, I don’t know what to believe. Cindi didn’t confide in me. But I’m sure my folks would never have agreed to her marrying Cale.”
“Why?”
“She was seventeen. He was twenty-four. And rolled with a pretty rough crowd.”
“Rough?”
“White-supremacist types. Hated blacks, Jews, immigrants. Hated the government. Back then I suspected Cale’s racist buddies might be involved. But what would they have against Cindi? I don’t know what to think.”
Gamble shoved the photo back in his pocket.
“Mr. Gamble, it’s unlikely that the person we recovered is your sister. I’m about to begin my analysis. If you’ll leave contact information, I’ll inform you when I’ve finished.”
I passed across pen and paper. Gamble scribbled something and handed them back.
“Should it prove necessary, could you obtain Cindi’s dental records?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you or another maternal relative be willing to provide a DNA sample?”
“It’s just me now.”
“What about Lovette?”
“I think Cale’s father still lives around here. If I can find a listing, I’ll give him a call.”
Gamble got to his feet.
I rose and opened the door.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” I said.
“I just keep pedaling to stay out front.”
With that odd comment, he strode down the hall.
I stood a moment, trying to recall news stories about Cindi Gamble and Cale Lovette. The disappearance of a seventeen-year-old kid should have generated a headline or two. Angel Leonitus certainly had.
I could not remember seeing anything on Gamble.
Vowing to research the case, I headed back to the stinky room.
The landfill drum was as I’d left it. I was circling the gurney, considering options, when Tim Larabee pushed through the door wearing street clothes.
Mecklenburg County’s chief medical examiner is a runner. Not the healthy knock-out-three-miles-in-the-neighborhood variety but the train-for-a-marathon-in-the-Gobi-Desert zealot. And it shows. Larabee’s body is sinewy and his cheeks are gaunt.
“Oh boy.” Larabee’s deep-set eyes were pointed at the gurney.
“Or girl,” I said. “Take a look.” I indicated the open end of the drum.
Larabee crossed to it and peered at the hand. “Any idea how much more is in there?”
I shook my head. “Can’t x-ray because of the metal and the density of the fill.”
“What’s your take?”
“Someone stowed a body or body parts, then filled the drum with asphalt. The hand was up top and became visible when the lid came off and the asphalt eroded.”
“Tight fit for an adult, but I’ve seen it done. Any dates on the sector where they found this thing?”
“A landfill worker said that area of the dump closed in 2005.”
“So it’s not Leonitus.”
“No. She’s too recent.”
“As of Monday, we got us another MP. Man came from Atlanta to Charlotte for Race Week. Wife reported him missing.” Larabee was studying the drum. “How will you get it out?”
How will I get it out?
Great.