“Well, aside from the hole and splintering from that, it’s in decentshape.Moisture levels in the area must not have been too bad.But it’s very basic, just a pine box, no lining or anything.It’s from around the same time, early sixties.”
“Excellent, thanks.Anything else?”Rachel jots it all down.
“There’s a small brass plate, like a plaque, that was found in the soil and debris removed from the area.It has traces of adhesive on the back, and we found the same traces on the side of the casket, so it was affixed at some point.I imagine it’ll be helpful; looks like the name of the company that made it.”
Rachel lets out a little breath of relief.It’s a place to start.“What does the plaque say?”
“Cartwright-Cambridge Co., Toronto.Very legible.”
Rachel asks for the exact spelling, makes a note.“Got it.”
“Also,” Sawyer says, “you’re going to love this: There are numbers stamped on the side of the casket, like a serial number.They’re faded, but still legible.”
Excellent, Rachel thinks.“Go ahead, Sawyer.”
“MWP0326–P.That’s Mike-Whiskey-Papa-zero-three-two-six-dash-Papa.”
Rachel pauses, looking at the letters and numbers she’s just written down.“That seems…institutional, somehow, doesn’t it?Official?I’ve never seen that on a casket before.”Her mind is already whirring.
“I agree,” Sawyer says.“The casket has been processed into evidence here if you want to come see it in more detail, but the photos of the plaque and serial number are on their way to you.”
“Thanks, Sawyer.And any idea on cause of death?”
“Can’t tell yet, honestly.Nothing obvious.But I’ll fax over my report with all the nitty gritty.Let me know if you have any questions after you’ve reviewed it.”
They sign off, and Rachel slumps a little in her chair, eyes narrowed at her notes.She can’t make sense of all this.Not yet.But she will.
She turns to face the corkboard behind her desk, which is a third full of details from the Stacy Cooper case.She wonders briefly if it’s time totake it down, but it’s the girl’s face staring at her every day that stokes the flames of her burning need to solve it.Because once a victim’s face disappears from view, it’s too easy to let it go.And Rachel can’t let it go.Not yet.She’ll just set up a second board for Jane Doe right beside Stacy’s.
She makes her way toward the break room for a coffee to fuel her upcoming brainstorm, stopping first at the fax machine where a stack of papers wait for her in the tray.She picks them up, confirms they’re the documents Sawyer was sending over.It’s always a rush, starting to tack up evidence, but she’s usually at it for a couple of hours before she emerges with a list of questions and next steps.This time is a bit different; she already knows she’ll have to locate this Cartwright-Cambridge company and work from there, but she wants to see the casket again in person, for a closer look.She’ll head into Toronto tomorrow.But for now, coffee.
Stevens is the only other person in the break room when she enters.
“Hey Mackenzie,” he says, not looking up as he stirs a revolting amount of sweetener into his drink.
“Hey,” she replies, setting the CFS documents down on the counter beside her and retrieving a mug from the cupboard.
He glances over at the top sheet.“That from the cemetery Jane Doe?”
“Yeah, just came in.”She pours herself a cup of coffee and recaps Sawyer’s summary as they both stand by the sink, sipping.“It dates from the sixties, and there’s a good lead from the casket, a company name.They might have records.”
Stevens nods slowly, taking in the update.“All right.Well, let me know if you need any backup with it.”
She studies him for a moment.He’s in his early twenties, a little nondescript-looking with brown hair and eyes, pale skin.A buzz cut his uncle probably recommended.
“You interested in a detective track, Stevens?”she asks, lifting the mug to her lips.
He nods.“Yeah.You know my uncle is—”
“Tom Stevens.”
He watches her, and in that moment she knows that her name has definitely come up at Stevens family dinners.She shouldn’t be surprised.And she isn’t angry.Not really.Tom Stevens was Rachel’s boss and mentor until he retired two years ago and Green took over as chief.It’s been a while since she’s seen Tom, but even having lunch with him would be seen as some kind of insubordination by Green, like she’d be somehow undermining his authority by daring to have a Reuben and coffee with her former chief.He’s already suspicious that Tom and Rachel’s relationship wasn’t above board.He’s been making sidelong, sexist comments for years about her “working under” Tom and being his favourite for unknown, suspicious reasons.He couldn’t just call her Tom Stevens’s protege.
Fucking asshole.
The younger Stevens glances now at the open break-room door, then back to Rachel.He has something discreet to say.
“Come to my office,” she prompts.He nods gratefully and follows her.She shuts the door behind them, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Crystal at the reception desk twenty feet away.
