Fireproof (25 page)

He was always so careful, leaving the ones he wanted found and tucking away the ones he wanted to hide. How the hell had they found the girl with the orange socks? And why now, when he just happened to be back in the area? Was his bad luck already beginning?

As soon as Maggie walked into the forensic anthropologist’s lab she remembered how much she hated the smell of boiled flesh. Not that burned or putrefied flesh smelled much better. Somehow it seemed more rancid when it was done on purpose like the scientists did here.

Several pots and one huge roasting pan sat on the industrial stove’s burners. Maggie could see the rolling boil in the roaster, and whatever was inside was producing the worst aroma.

Despite the smell, Maggie welcomed the distraction. She had been avoiding her mother’s phone calls since last night. This morning she listened to only two of her dozen or more voice messages.

“That Jeffery Cole twisted everything I said,” her mother whined. “He made me sound so awful.”

Of course she’d make it about the injustice done to her rather than admit she had been wrong. And forget about an apology. Odd as it seemed, Maggie would even trade listening to her mother’s pathetic excuses with the smell of boiling flesh.

“You must be Agent O’Dell.” A small Asian woman in a white lab coat greeted her. “I’m Mia Ling.”

She was standing over a wide stainless-steel table under a
hanging fluorescent light. Her purple-gloved fingers picked at a piece of bone.

“Detective Racine is on her way. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t shake your hand. I’m almost finished with this piece.”

“No, of course. Please continue.”

Maggie glanced in one of the other boiling pots as she made her way over. Maggots squirmed and rode on the greasy film. Several made it to the wall of the pan and tried to scale the metal only to die with a sizzle and a pop. Maggots were one of the few things that truly creeped Maggie out.

During autopsies they appeared indestructible. Even freezing them only slowed them down. Once present on a corpse, they couldn’t simply be removed without also destroying valuable evidence. An autopsy with maggots became a race, the morgue’s bright lights churning them up. Sometimes they shoved each other out onto the floor, where they’d search for the closest warm, moist place, often crawling up a pant leg. She found it morbidly satisfying to see them in hot water, finally something that could destroy them.

It only then occurred to her that Gloria Dobson’s body didn’t have any maggots, even though it had been dumped in the alley.

“I would be doing that with your victim,” Ling said, indicating the boiling pot, “if you hadn’t been able to identify her. It’d certainly be easier to boil away the flesh than to pick at it.” She held up a bone in her fingers. “Funny how family members don’t really appreciate us cutting off a victim’s head just to figure out what happened. So I’m left to pick off the brain tissue from the bone by hand.”

Maggie liked Mia Ling even before she added, “And my family doesn’t understand why I won’t eat meat.”

“So this is Gloria Dobson’s?” Maggie pointed to the tray with bits of bone and what looked like several teeth.

“Yes, what pieces we have. There are a lot of bone fragments missing. They probably were left at the crime scene.” She poked at the teeth. “I found these down at the base of her skull and in her neck. Some pieces of her face were smashed into her brain.”

Maggie pulled up a stool to sit down and to get a closer look.

“I’m trying to clean these pieces and sort them before I pull her out of the refrigerator.”

Maggie could see the fragments Dr. Ling had already cleaned and processed. She arranged them like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Will it be at all possible to guess what kind of weapon caused this damage?”

Ling’s hands stopped. She put down the bone she had been working on and picked up the biggest fragment from the tray. She turned it, found what she wanted, then leaned over to show Maggie.

“Can you see these crisscross fracture lines?” Her long index finger moved along what looked like scratches in the bone.

“Yes,” Maggie answered.

“And see how the bone is sort of warped?” She held it up to the light.

It was subtle, but Maggie nodded.

“Bone literally bends when you hit it really hard. It’ll bend before it breaks. If the warped area was dented and rounded, I’d guess something like a ball-peen hammer, which incidentally seems to be a favorite of skull bashers.

“The instrument used to do this had a larger surface area, it had a wider impact area. It had to be something larger and heavier. And because it also scratched the bone, I think we might rule out
any shaftlike weapon, like a tire iron or a golf club. Those usually leave a long, narrow groove.

“Whatever he used—and I’m simply guessing that he didn’t stop and use more than one instrument—it had a considerable head or end on it to inflict tremendous trauma. It also had some sort of claw or a sharp hooked end to cause the scratches and nicks I’m seeing in some of the bones.”

“Stan said the tissue looked like it had been ripped out.”

“If you had the crime scene to process, I bet we’d see a lot of flyers. Without the crime scene, we’re doing a whole lot of speculating.”

Flyers were the blood and tissue trails flung on walls and ceiling as the weapon is raised for the next blow and then the next. In this case, Maggie realized both experts were saying that the weapon not only broke and shattered bone and splattered blood and tissue, but also dug into and ripped out pieces.

“What about a crowbar?” she asked Ling.

“It would need a long enough handle to create this kind of force. And I’m thinking wider. Maybe like a pry bar.”

They sat quietly for a minute. Dr. Ling’s hands were still.

“What about the other victim, the burned skull recovered from inside the building?”

“I spent almost five hours at the site sifting through the ashes. There were no other bones.”

“Is it possible the rest of the body was destroyed in the fire?”

“It’s pretty difficult to burn up a body entirely, even when accelerants are used. Cremation will even leave portions of bone that require mechanical pulverizing. This was an intensely hot fire, but not hot enough to destroy everything but the skull. I would have expected to find some long bones, or at least pieces of them.
Also the teeth were smashed, but I didn’t recover any and teeth don’t burn.”

“Sounds like you’re saying this person was murdered somewhere else as well?”

“That would be my guess. The trauma sustained, as well as the decapitation, most likely did not happen in that building.”

“Same weapon?”

“I can’t make that determination at this time.”

“Male? Female?”

“Male. Caucasian. That’s really all I can tell you right now.”

Silence. Maggie could hear the boiling water gurgle. Somewhere a machine clicked on and hummed.

“This was a brutal murder,” Ling finally said, her face expressionless, her eyes trailing to the tray of bone and teeth, fragments of Gloria Dobson. “Some of the bones were congealed with blood and shoved into the brain.”

Ling didn’t need to explain that meant Gloria Dobson was still alive—hopefully unconscious—but her heart still pumping blood when she sustained some of the most vicious blows.

Racine chose that moment to stroll into the lab and call out, “Hey, Doc, whatcha got cookin’?”

Sam’s one day off and she spent the entire morning at the news station. Abe Nadira showed her to an empty editing booth. He helped her access the files she was looking for, then hesitated like he didn’t want to leave her alone with them. Thankfully he was too busy to stay. She immediately locked the door behind him.

Last night Wes Harper’s description of what fire can do to a body had freaked her out more than she liked to admit. What bothered her the most was how much pleasure Harper seemed to take in telling all the gruesome details. She also didn’t like the fact that he and Jeffery seemed awfully chummy for having just met.

Just how did Jeffery know so much about these fires and about this fire starter? Yes, he did a ton of research, a habit he claimed was left over from his high school teaching days. So Sam was never surprised by the things he knew or remembered. He was one of the brightest guys she knew. And he could have learned things from Otis P. Dodd’s personal letters, but they wouldn’t have told Jeffery any details about these fires.

She couldn’t remember any one of their interviewees or sources mentioning that the fires were started by a chemical reaction. Yet Jeffery appeared certain. She wanted to check some of their film
footage. And she needed to check the films’ date and time stamps. How did Jeffery know about the fires so early?

She wondered if someone was tipping him off. He often joked that he had more contacts and informants than the CIA, and Sam had always been amazed at the network of people he knew, not just across the country, but across the world.

Why Big Mac hadn’t given Jeffery his own show always baffled Sam. Except that he didn’t have the “look.” Jeffery Cole was a bit too ordinary looking.

Sam jotted down names as she watched the taped segments. Was it possible one of these criminals had been paroled since the interview? There had to be a way she could check.

After two hours she was certain no one on the list, other than Otis P. Dodd, had been charged or was serving time for arson. Of course that didn’t mean arson wasn’t in their background. Most of these guys were charged with multiple offenses. And they weren’t choosy about what the offenses were. But if there was a connection between one of these criminals that Jeffery had interviewed and the fires from the past two weeks, she couldn’t find it. Even Otis’s “mystery man,” who had killed the woman with the orange socks and stuffed her into a culvert, didn’t show up anywhere else.

She was convinced, however, that Jeffery had inside knowledge. If not directly from the arsonist, then from someone who knew when and where the fires would happen. But who? And what kind of dangerous game had Jeffery gotten himself into this time?

Sam pulled up the footage from the warehouse fires, the footage she had taken before the fire trucks and rescue crews arrived. She remembered thinking it odd that no one else was there, and yet at the same time she had been excited about getting the exclusive. Agent Tully had been interested in this same footage but only
until he found the man with the red backpack. Sam started watching from the point where Agent Tully stopped.

It was boring. Slow going. She clicked up the speed. Paused it when the crowd began to grow. Zoomed in. Panned the faces. Nothing. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Did she really expect to recognize anyone?

She sent it speeding along again. Just after the second explosion, she stopped the film. Hit
REWIND
then
PLAY
, and let it move in regular time. She grabbed her cup of coffee and sipped, keeping an eye on the computer monitor. She glanced away to look at her watch. When she looked back up she noticed several more people had joined the crowd. Just before the time stamp where she knew the second blast occurred, Sam paused and zoomed in again. She started panning the new crowd. Then suddenly she recognized someone.