The Affair_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [34]
“Tied up with what?”
“Not ropes,” I said. “Maybe belts or straps. Something wide and flat. Maybe silk scarves. Something padded, perhaps. To disguise what had been done.”
Merriam said nothing. He moved past me to the end of the table and looked at Chapman’s ankles. He said, “She was wearing pantyhose when she was brought in. The nylon was undamaged. Not torn or laddered at all.”
“Because of the padding. Maybe it was foam rubber. Something like that. But she was tied up.”
Merriam was quiet for another moment.
Then he said, “Not impossible.”
I asked, “How plausible?”
“Postmortem examination has its limits, you know. You’d need an eyewitness to be certain.”
“How do you explain the complete exsanguination?”
“She could have been a hemophiliac.”
“Suppose she wasn’t?”
“Then gravity would be the only explanation. She was hung upside down.”
“By belts or straps, or ropes over some kind of padding?”
“Not impossible,” Merriam said again. “Turn her over,” I said.
“Why?”
“I want to see the gravel rash.”
“You’ll have to help me,” he said, so I did.
Chapter
19
The human body is a self-healing machine, and it doesn’t waste time. Skin is crushed or split or cut, and blood immediately rushes to the site, the red cells scabbing and knitting a fibrous matrix to bind the parted edges together, the white cells seeking out and destroying germs and pathogens below. The process is underway within minutes, and it lasts as many hours or days as are necessary to return the skin to its previous unbroken integrity. The process causes a bell curve of inflammation, peaking as the suffusion of blood peaks, and as the scab grows thickest, and as the fight against infection reaches its most intense state.
The small of Janice May Chapman’s back was peppered with tiny cuts, as was the whole of her butt, and as were her upper arms just above her elbows. The cuts were small, thinly scabbed incisions, all surrounded by small areas of crushing, which were colorless due to her bloodlessness. The cuts were all inflicted in random directions, as if by loose and rolling items of similar size and nature, small and hard and neither razor-sharp nor completely blunt.
Classic gravel rash.
I looked at Merriam and asked, “How old do you think these injuries are?”
He said, “I have no idea.”
“Come on, doctor,” I said. “You’ve treated cuts and grazes before. Or have you? What were you before? A psychiatrist?”
“I was a pediatrician,” he said. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. None at all. Not in this area of medicine.”
“Kids get cuts and grazes all the time. You must have seen hundreds.”
“This is a serious business. I can’t risk unsupported guesses.”
“Try educated guesses.”
“Four hours,” he said.
I nodded. I figured four hours was about right, judging by the scabs, which were more than nascent, but not yet fully mature. They had been developing steadily, and then their development had stopped abruptly when the throat was cut and the heart had stopped and the brain had died and all metabolism had ceased.
I asked, “Did you determine the time of death?”
Merriam said, “That’s very hard to know. Impossible, really. The exsanguination interferes with normal biological processes.”
“Best guess?”
“Some hours before she was brought to me.”
“How many hours?”
“More than four.”
“That’s obvious from the gravel rash. How many more than four?”
“I don’t know. Fewer than twenty-four. That’s the best I can do.”
I said, “No other injuries. No bruising. No sign of a defensive struggle.”
Merriam said, “I agree.”
Deveraux said, “Maybe she didn’t fight. Maybe she had a gun to her head. Or a knife to her throat.”
“Maybe,” I said. I looked at Merriam again and asked, “Did you do a vaginal examination?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“I judged she had had recent sexual intercourse.”
“Any bruising or tearing in that area?”
“None visible.”
“Then why did you conclude she was raped?”
“You think it was consensual? Would you