Stolen(38)

“Hard to say for sure. Again, the animals did a number on her. Most of her inner thighs have been chewed off. The vaginal area is smooth, suggesting sexual activity, but in a woman her age that’s to be expected. The hands and fingernails show no obvious defensive wounds. We’ve scraped the nails of course.”

“She might’ve been drugged,” Spense said. “That would account for the lack of defensive wounds.”

“Like everything else, toxicology is pending.”

“You’ve included GHB, I hope.” Caitlin didn’t necessarily enjoy telling the man how to do his job, but the test had to be ordered specifically, it wasn’t routine.

“That and other date rape drugs.” Gaines dropped his shears and rolled the now empty body cavity onto one side, revealing a small purple dolphin on the left hip. “Did Laura Chaucer have any tattoos?”

“Not according to her family.” Hatcher who’d been backed against the wall moved in for a closer look at the ink.

“Maybe the folks aren’t aware,” Gaines continued.

“Laura’s parents controlled her tightly, so it’s possible she hid it from them.” Caitlin made a mental note to check with the bodyguard. “Maybe Cayman’s seen something they haven’t. Or maybe she confided in her psychiatrist.”

“Multiple stab wounds make this an obvious homicide.” Gaines swept a gloved hand above the length of the body. “But they weren’t the cause of death.”

“Then what was?” Hatcher asked.

“Impatient, aren’t we? But to answer to your question, I checked for retinal hemorrhages before you arrived. Cause of death appears to be asphyxiation.”

“So she was strangled.”

“There are many ways death by asphyxiation can occur. For all that tells us she could’ve been gassed in a garage with carbon monoxide.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Hatcher paced from top to bottom of the room with his hands crossed behind his back.

“No. But I need more than just belief. I need evidence.” Gaines sighed. “And here we have it.” He motioned them over to observe as he delicately dissected the neck, revealing a broken piece of bone—the hyoid. “Without question, the young woman on my table was strangled to death.”





Chapter 23





Friday, October 25

8:00 A.M.

Task force headquarters

Highlands Hotel

Denver, Colorado



“Jordo . . .” Cliff poked his head into the interview room. “What do you want me to do about the reporters?”

The press conference.

Spense had forgotten all about it, and apparently so had Hatcher.

“What time did we say?”

“Ten.”

Hatcher checked his watch. “Ain’t happening. Call ’em up and tell them it’s a slow news day, sorry for the false alarm.”

“Sir.” Cliff cleared his throat. “They’ve been harassing Rhonda already. If I don’t hand out some inside information, they’ll probably make up some tall tale about you cheating on Louise.”

“Louise knows no one else will have me.”

“That may be,” Spense said. “But Cliff’s got a point. We’ve got to give them something to hold them at bay or no telling how creative they’ll get. We need to control the media on this one. Use it to our advantage.”

“Let’s see, then. We’ll just say the senator is missing a daughter—again—and she might or might not be the corpse laid out in the morgue. Considering her parents don’t yet know what we found up in the Eagles Nest Wilderness, seems like poor form to me.”

“What have they been told?” If it’d been up to Caity, Spense knew she’d have personally called on the family hours ago.

“That we have news. That we need them here ASAP. They’re staying at Laura’s apartment in case she returns. I offered to go out last night, but Mrs. Chaucer was sleeping, and it was the senator who set the meeting time of 8:00 A.M. With this amount of destruction to the body, we don’t expect the family to be able to make an ID. I didn’t see a reason to push the meeting earlier since we don’t know for sure the young woman we found is Laura.”

Spense checked his watch. “Past eight now.”

“Guess they’re late.”

“For an update on their missing daughter?” Spense didn’t like it. “They should be beating down the door to find out what’s going on.”

“I think Mrs. Chaucer is sleeping is code for drunk out of her gourd,” Hatcher said. “I think the senator’s trying to save her face.”