Count to Ten (55 page)

Chapter One

Philadelphia, Sunday, February 20, 10:45 A.M.

S
ix years as a homicide detective had taught Vito Ciccotelli that there were no simple murders, just varying degrees of hard ones. As soon as he stopped at the edge of the grave the crime scene unit had just unearthed in the snow--covered field north of the city, he knew this would be one of the harder ones.

Neither Vito nor his partner said a word as they studied the victim who may have remained hidden forever were it not for an elderly man and his metal detector.

Their Jane Doe had been small, five-two or five-three. Short dark hair framed a face too badly decomposed to be easily identifiable and Vito wondered how long she’d been here. From the condition of the body and the putrid odor of death that permeated his senses, he guessed a few weeks at a minimum. He wondered who she belonged to. If anyone had missed her. If anyone still waited for her to come home.

He felt the familiar surge of pity and sadness to which he’d long become accustomed, and as usual pushed it to the edge of his mind. For now he’d focus on the body, the evidence. Later, he and Nick would consider the woman herself—who she’d been, where she’d been and who she’d known. They’d do so as a means to catch the sick sonofabitch who’d left her nude body to rot in an unmarked grave in an open field.

The sick sonofabitch who’d violated her even after death. Pity shifted to outrage as Vito’s gaze returned to the victim’s hands.

“He posed her,” Nick murmured beside him and in the soft words Vito heard the same outrage he felt. “He fucking posed her.”

He had. Her hands were pressed together between her breasts, fingertips pointing to her chin. “Permanently folded in prayer,” Vito said grimly.

“Religious murderer?” Nick mused.

Vito had thought the same thing. “I hope not.” But it was possible. The field measured maybe two acres and at one time could have been a large garden, but it didn’t appear to have been used for anything in a long time. Except for a grave.
Hopefully just one
, he thought, but a buzz of apprehension tickled his spine. Religious murderers tended not to stop with just one. “You think there are more?”

Nick lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Seems too well-constructed to be a one time thing.”

“Sonofabitch.” Vito crouched down to peer into the grave which was about three feet deep. “How did he permanently pose her hands, Jen?”

Down in the hole brushing loose dirt from the victim’s hands into an evidence bag with painstaking care was Jennifer McFain, the head of CSU. Jen looked up, her eyes covered with goggles, her nose and mouth by a mask. “Wire,” she said. “Very fine. It’s wound around her fingers. You’ll be able to see it better once the ME cleans her up. When are they getting here, anyway?”

“Katherine called to say she’ll be here in ten or fifteen minutes,” Nick told her.

Jen nodded. “Good. I want to get this body out of here so I can sample the soil underneath. We may be able to get a better idea of how long she’s been here.”

Vito frowned. “Is the wire what set off the old guy’s metal detector? Doesn’t seem like wire that thin would be enough to trip the sensor, especially under a foot of dirt.”

Jen nimbly climbed out of the grave. “Well, the old guy does have a really nice detector, but you’re right, the wire probably wouldn’t have set it off. For that we can thank the rods your perp ran under the victim’s arms.” She demonstrated, tracing one gloved finger along the underside of her own arm, an inch above her elbow to her palm. “They’re thin and bendable, but have enough mass to set off a metal detector. Again, you’ll see them once the ME cleans her up. It’s how he kept her arms fixed in position.”

Vito shook his head. “Why?” he asked and Jen shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll get more from the body.” She made a face. “You would’ve thought she’d have been a little less ripe considering the outside temperature. Then again, I don’t think she’s been in the ground that long.”

Vito’s brows lifted. “Looks like she’s been dead a few weeks, maybe longer.”

“Katherine can tell you how long she’s been dead, but I’m telling you the fill dirt hadn’t been there that long. Have you talked to the property owner yet?”

Vito glanced over at the cruiser parked in front of the CSU van. In the back of the cruiser sat an elderly man, a blanket over his shoulders. “Not yet.”

“Well, he uncovered one of her arms using his garden spade.”

Nick looked into the grave. “Then he must’ve moved about a foot of dirt.”

Jen nodded. “Exactly. Now, he’s in pretty good shape for his age, but he probably couldn’t have gotten an inch down if the ground had been frozen. The fill dirt was easy to move until we got to the grave wall, then it was hard as a rock. The wires look like they were cut using a T-square.”

Nick let out a breath. “Which means he dug the grave before the ground froze.”

Vito felt a sick tug at his gut. “Which means he planned this pretty far in advance.” Vito scanned the field again. Except for the old man’s footprints and their own prints around the grave, the snow was undisturbed. But knowing their killer had planned ahead...“Which means we could have more than one victim.”