“A rock with tree sap on it?”
“Very possible, and quite common in nature.”
“Huh.”
“The good news is that resin acts a natural preservative, and it included a hair sample.Your victim had blond hair.I estimate the remains were buried between twenty-five and thirty-five years ago.He was a healthy white male in his late teens, perhaps twenty.His teeth are all intact, with only one aluminum filling.”Forester moved from the light downward, to one of the leg bones.“He was six feet two, and he reached this height several years before his demise.He sustained a fractured tibia around age twelve.It was properly set and healed well.There is evidence of healed fractures on multiple phalanges, as well.”
“Phalanges?”
“Toes.They’re common fracture points, depending on the habits of the deceased.Most contact sports increase the likelihood of breaks.”
Wade rubbed his own tibia, which he’d broken around the same age as the victim.He’d sustained more injuries than he could count on the football field, and by riding his bike around the neighborhood at lightning speed.Nothing had slowed him down.He’d played just as hard with his arm in a cast than without.“How can I identify him?”
Forester took off his gloves with a snap.“His death predates the creation of the DNA database, so you won’t get a match to any previous sample, but the analysis will confirm hair and eye color, and it can be used to compare with a surviving family member.”
“What about dental records?”
“There won’t be any digital files from that time frame.Physical X-rays from thirty years ago have probably been disposed of or archived.”
Wade knew his options were limited for a case this cold.Maybe Nava had been right about the futility of the endeavor.“Do college kids come around here much?To visit the lake, or ride ATVs?”
“They do, but most of the kids at the lake are locals.”
“I’ll look into missing person reports from Lost Lake and the surrounding area.”He could also call Texas A&M for a list of students who were enrolled in 1988 but had dropped out unexpectedly or stopped coming to class.If the victim was nineteen at the time of death, he’d have been a freshman or sophomore.
“You should request a forensic image,” Dr.Forester said.“There’s a technician in San Antonio who does a decent job.”
Wade filled out a request form on the spot.He wanted to use every resource available.He inquired about the storage of the remains, which would be handled by the deputy coroner, before he thanked Dr.Forester and left the building.As soon as he entered the parking garage, he felt a wave of emotion wash over him.He clenched his hands into fists, but he couldn’t stop his mind from going to a dark place.Memories of his father with the coroner from Last Chance, pressuring him into participating in a cover-up.
When Wade’s breathing calmed, he returned to the Suburban and drove back to the station in Lost Lake.He bypassed Sheriff Nava’s office, which appeared empty, and ducked into his own.A new laptop had been delivered while he was gone, along with a text from the technology department with login information.Wade spent twenty minutes organizing his office.He put stacks of files into boxes, threw away old coffee cups and fast-food wrappers, and wiped down every dusty surface.When his desk was clear, he fired up the laptop and dove into the database of unsolved missing person cases.
More than twenty teenagers had disappeared from Lost Lake in the late eighties.Seven of those cases remained open.Five were female.Their smiling school photos displayed careful makeup and feathered hair.Wade didn’t linger over the images.Of the two male unsolved cases, only one was white, and neither were close to six feet tall.
He widened his search to include Brazos County, where Texas A&M was located.There were dozens of male candidates from that area to consider, but some reports lacked photographs or other pertinent information, such as height or race.He had to evaluate each one in detail.Down the rabbit hole he went.
Wade was deep in research mode, moving through the names on the list with methodical precision, when a call on his radio brought him back to the surface.To his surprise, four hours had gone by.His stomach growled with hunger.
“Hendricks,” he answered.
“Jackson Nava here.I’m on the scene with a Lakeside trailer park resident who claims a neighbor stole his handgun.The suspect is in one of the cabins at Lost Lake.I’d appreciate some assistance.”
“You got it,” Wade said.“What’s your location?”
Nava gave him the address, and Wade left his office immediately.He drove to Lakeside Estates, which had suffered intense damage from the tornado.It also bore the distinction of being the poorest community in the area.When he arrived at the location, Jackson was waiting beside his black and white cruiser.
“I just spoke to Charlie Franklin,” Jackson said, gesturing to a mobile home.“He lives here with his wife, Elvira.He came home early on the day of the tornado and startled an intruder inside his residence.”Jackson flipped a page in a pocket-sized spiral notebook.“Caucasian male, six-foot plus.The guy ran out the back door.”
“He didn’t report it?”
“No.Sirens started blaring, and the tornado hit right after that.He didn’t realize the gun was missing until today.”
“Does he have proof it’s his?”
“He has the bill of sale,” Jackson said.
“Tell me about the suspect.”
“Charlie didn’t see his face, but he thinks it’s a guest from Lost Lake Retreats.”Jackson indicated a series of cabins between the campground and the trailer park.“The guy in cabin eight fits the description.”
