Page 22 of The Burning

“Hey, Doc.”

“We’ve got our victim cleaned up, Kate. I’m waiting for the forensic pathologist to arrive to assist with the autopsy. I don’t know much at this point, but there is some limited information to be gleaned if you have the time.”

I feel a creeping dread in my chest, but I quickly suppress it. I don’t let myself react because Tomasetti is watching me. “I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER 6

Most cops don’t attend autopsies. It’s rarely necessary in these days of high tech and probably a good rule of thumb anyway, especially if you’re squeamish. As a general rule, I don’t attend the actual autopsy. I do, however, make it a point to see the victim’s body after it has been cleaned up and is in a clinical atmosphere with good lighting and the coroner present to answer questions. The body is an integral piece of evidence. Every aspect of the case begins and ends with the victim.

Of course, there’s a human element involved, too. The loss of a life, especially violently and at the hands of another, is profound. A good investigator will never lose sight of that. Whether on a quest for information, a personal ritual, or to pay homage—or any combination thereof—those torturous minutes I spend with the dead establish a connection. It’s an important dynamic, because when I walk out of that room I’m not looking into the death of some random stranger. I’m one step closer to knowing them. I’ve seen what happened to them, the ugliness and the brutality of it. In the days and weeks that follow, as I come to know my victim on an almost intimate level, I will remember that part of them. And I’ll be all the more driven to find the person responsible.

Tomasetti and I don’t speak as we ride the elevator down to the morgue, which is located in the basement of Pomerene Hospital. He uses those scant seconds to check his cell, his texts and emails. But I know the brunt of his attention is on me. I pretend not to notice and I use that small span of time to shore up and slip a little more securely into my thick-skinned cop persona.

When the floor indicator bell dings, I’m ready. As the door swishes open, Tomasetti brushes his fingertips across my knuckles. “You got this?”

“Yep.”

Doc Coblentz’s administrative assistant, Carmen, looks up from a desk that’s jammed with manila folders, and smiles. She’s wearing a suede skirt with brown riding boots and a cream-colored sweater with a coordinating scarf tied at her neck.

“Morning, Chief!” she says brightly. “Agent Tomasetti.”

Not for the first time I wonder how someone who spends so much time in close proximity to the dead can remain so upbeat. “I think you’re one of the best-dressed women in Painters Mill,” I tell her.

“I appreciate that, Chief.” Beaming, she laughs. “To be honest with you, I don’t get many compliments down here.”

“Can’t take that too personally,” says Tomasetti as we sign in. “Your clientele tend to be pretty quiet.”

She hefts another hearty laugh. “Doc’s expecting you. Go right in.”

We go through the door and enter the medical section of the facility. To my right is an alcove where supplies and sterile biohazard gear are stored. Doc Coblentz’s partially glassed-in office is on the left. As usual, the blinds are pulled, but the door stands open. An old Simon & Garfunkel song pours into the hall and I feel some of the tension leach from my shoulders.

Doc Coblentz sits at a desk that’s heaped with folders, binders, and papers, staring at a computer monitor the size of a TV. A bagel loaded with cream cheese and chives is nestled next to a mug that reads I PRESCRIBE COFFEE.

“Hey, Doc,” I say by way of greeting.

“That was quick.” Blotting his mouth with a napkin, he rises, and the three of us exchange handshakes.

“Thanks for putting a rush on this,” I tell him.

He waves off my thanks. “Considering what we’re dealing with, I cleared my schedule. The forensic pathologist should be here within the hour.” His expression turns thoughtful. “My technician and I photographed and preserved everything, including what was left of the clothing, before cleaning up the victim. I took several dozen X-rays as well as CT scans. In terms of confirming the victim’s ID, extracting DNA is not a problem. The teeth are completely intact and there are several unique dental features present.”

Though an ID was found on the victim, the possibility that it was planted to mislead the police remains. It’s always prudent to confirm a victim’s identity via DNA if possible.

“The extensive thermal injuries will prevent us from retrieving fingerprints,” he tells us. “I’m confident we’ll be able to get toxicology.”

“I’ll expedite,” Tomasetti says.

“Any idea as far as time of death?” I ask.

“We can usually rely on the core body temp to at least come up with a ballpark. Because the decedent in this case suffered significant thermal injuries that may have raised the core body temp, we can’t do that. All I can tell you at this point is that there was no livor or rigor present. Rigor begins approximately two hours after death.”

I think about the scream or shout that Skid and Mona reported hearing and juxtapose that with the timeline of the discovery of the body and its arrival here at the morgue. “So, it’s likely the murder had just happened.”

“That’s a good guess.”

“What about cause of death?” Tomasetti asks.

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much at this point. Once we get him on the table, we should be able to determine if this individual’s death was caused by thermal injuries or smoke inhalation or something else.”