Seconds to Live(12)

“You said it was urgent,” Stella said, her face mask fogging up.

With a snort, Frank turned back to the sink. “We both know I wasn’t that polite.”

Frank stepped away from the sink. His face mask was tilted up onto his head. “You can come closer. I’ve finished with her.”

The sight of Missy, naked on the table, assaulted Stella’s senses, but she refused to turn away. The small surge of relief she’d felt that Frank had completed the autopsy faded almost as quickly as it hit.

“Oh, my God.”

Dozens of cuts lined Missy’s arms and legs. The lines were arranged in groups of five. Each had four vertical lines and one cross-wise cut, like tally marks.

Frank crossed his arms over his chest. “Each of these wounds is approximately two inches long and a quarter-inch deep.”

“How many are there?” Stella stared at the bloodless, raw-looking wounds.

“Forty.” Frank looked grim. “Plus this single stroke in the center of her belly.”

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Stella asked.

“Not quite. I’ve run into cutters before but nothing quite like this,” Frank said.

“Missy was a cutter?”

Frank pointed to a thin scar below the new wounds. “She has old scars on her forearms, so she probably cut herself at some point in the past.”

Stella could see healed track marks on Missy’s arms as well. All those old scars explained why she’d been wearing long sleeves in the heat of summer.

“But she didn’t do this to herself. Not this time.” Frank waved a hand over the body. “The directions and angles of the cuts aren’t consistent with self-inflicted wounds.” He pointed to a cluster of five lines. “A cut is deeper in the beginning or head of a knife wound because that’s where the pressure is the greatest. Toward the end or tail of the wound, the pressure is lighter and the cut becomes increasingly shallow. If she made these cuts herself, she would have cut toward herself. Instead the cuts run the opposite direction.”

“Someone was standing next to her,” Stella said.

“Also, she was restrained.” Frank pointed to deep bruises around Missy’s wrists and ankles.

“She was tied up and tortured.” Stunned and sickened, Stella scanned the body for other evidence. “Can you tell if the old cutting scars were self-inflicted?”

“No, but I doubt they were as deep.” Frank shook his head. “Are you thinking someone did this to her before?”

“I don’t know what to think. What else can you tell me?”

“She didn’t die at the scene. Estimated time of death is Saturday between four p.m. and midnight. There’s no sign of sexual assault. She presents as an overdose, and the syringe found at the scene contained traces of heroin, but I’ll need the toxicology report to confirm cause of death. I’ll let you know when that comes in. Even without the results, I’m calling this a homicide based on the use of restraints, the torture, and the fact that she was dumped at the scene. This was clearly not an accidental death or a suicide.”

“Thanks.” Stella bolted from the ME’s office and into the fresh air of the parking lot. As she walked to the crime scene investigators’ offices in the same complex, she dug a mint from her purse and chewed it to obliterate the smell of death from her nostrils. She stopped at the forensic lab in the same complex and signed Missy’s now-charged cell phone out on the evidence log. There were only a few recent calls and no texts. Missy likely kept the phone for emergency use only. Stella had already requested the call detail records from Missy’s cell service provider.

Neither of Missy’s employers had been surprised to hear of her death. The fact that she hadn’t shown up for work Friday or Saturday had been enough to worry them. She’d been a hard-working, exemplary employee. Stella hadn’t found so much as a single disgruntled coworker. Missy paid her bills on time and managed to save a small portion of her pay each week. Her background check was equally unremarkable. No arrests either here or in California.

A call from Brody interrupted her thoughts. “We have a possible break-in and missing woman. Can you pick me up at the station?”

Brody was waiting outside when she pulled up. He slid into the passenger seat and gave her the address.

As she drove, she updated him with Missy’s autopsy results. “She was tortured and killed. Either we have a sadistic killer roaming Scarlet Falls or Missy made someone very angry.”

“So our simple overdose is a murder investigation.” Brody’s voice rang with surprise. “This is a good reminder not to make assumptions about a case.”