Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [58]
“You’re right,” Mitch said. “Fish and other organisms in the water would have focused their feeding activities on any exposed areas. You can see that they primarily ate the face and fingers. What about his skull?”
“I’m getting to that,” she said, slightly irritated. Mitch swallowed a snide comment.
“There wasn’t anything as obvious as a bashed-in skull,” she continued, “when we made the external examination.” With the help of one of the assistants, she turned Maddox’s body on one side. She examined the skull closely. “Hmm.”
“What?” Mitch couldn’t help but ask.
“There is a fine crack in the skull. Here, right at the base.” She pulled the camera closer. Mitch could see the damage only when she pointed it out using the sharp end of her scalpel.
“That’s interesting,” Clarkston said.
The chief pathologist stepped into the room and said, “I’m done with the comparison. Your victim is Oliver Maddox. I’ll write up a report and send it to your office.” Then he was gone.
Nothing that Mitch didn’t already know, but it was nice getting the confirmation.
“What’s that?” the assistant pathologist said from the room.
Mitch turned his attention back to the table. The stomach had been removed—or what was left of it. Inside was something bright pink.
The senior pathologist placed the stomach on the scale and cut it open. She removed the object and frowned.
“It’s plastic.”
“It’s a flash drive,” Mitch said, incredulous, staring at the thin device half the length of his thumb. “That was in his stomach?”
“Yes,” the pathologist said.
“You’re sure, right? Stomach and not the intestines?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Why is that important?” Steve asked.
“Because it would have passed through within twelve to twenty-four hours. If it was in his stomach, he likely swallowed it within six hours of death.”
“Swallowed a flash drive?” Clarkston asked. “What on earth for?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Mitch said. He looked the deputy in the eye. “Will you let us work the drive? I’ll send you a report as soon as we know what’s on it.”
Clarkston frowned. “Well—”
Steve said, “Our Silicon Valley lab is state of the art. Twenty-four hours or less.”
Clarkston was reluctant, but said, “Okay.”
“Pink,” Mitch said. “I’ll bet it was his girlfriend’s. Maybe she knows what’s on it.”
“Twenty bucks we get nothing from that,” Steve said to Mitch.
Mitch didn’t want to take the bet, but said nonetheless, “You’re on.”
SEVENTEEN
After getting a copy of Oliver Maddox’s missing person report from the Davis Police Department, Claire drove back to Sacramento and headed to the county archives. She’d been so tense after her conversation with Collier she decided to postpone talking to Oliver’s girlfriend Tammy. She needed to go over her father’s trial transcripts and see if Frank Lowe had played a role she didn’t remember. But more important, to truly follow in Oliver’s footsteps, she needed to know these case files inside and out. Something in the files Oliver found at the Western Innocence Project had piqued his interest. Maybe she’d see the same thing.
The archives housed most county records and Claire had been there many times in the course of her investigative work. Generally, she’d have to wait to access files—they needed to be researched and pulled. Depending on workload, it could take a few minutes or several days. But Claire played the grieving daughter card and it worked. The bureaucrat behind the desk took pity on her and pulled the O’Brien case file out of order.
Twenty minutes later, Claire sat in the far corner of the public area staring at the outside of a brown file box. One box. The entire case against her father had been reduced to a box. Murder trials often had dozens of archived boxes. Everything went inside—police reports, crime scene photos, depositions—anything used in the trial.
She breathed deeply and opened the box.
It was obvious that a bunch of stuff was missing. She took everything out, trying to figure out what wasn’t in