Murder Mountain (21 page)

I turned to Michael and told him to prepare himself for an extremely long day. He’d already informed me that he’d never been present for an actual dig before. I had only been on one dig in my career before this one. It’s something people never forget.

All the people that Kincaid had told us had been put on stand-by needed to be called and asked to respond. The entire area had to be cordoned off, and a large commercial tent needed to be erected over the sight. Once that was done, county maintenance would have to bring in large lights and generators to work in the dark, along with a port-o-pot. Another smaller tent would be set up with long tables inside to set all the evidence on for numbering and tagging. Adjacent to the evidence tent would be a slightly larger examination tent, where the coroner, the forensic pathologist, and the anthropologist would perform a brief examination of the remains before the police tag it as evidence. Once all the tents are erected and the scene is secured, detectives and crime lab personnel have to hand-shovel a large area around the body so it can be extricated as delicately as possible.

It would most likely be near dark by the time all the necessary personnel arrived, tents were erected, and the perimeter hole dug. Extrication goes inch by inch. After being photographed in its original location, each bone uncovered has to be dusted off with a dry paintbrush and carefully carried to the examination area.

It was late evening when everything and everyone was in place and we could begin the extrication, slightly ahead of my prediction. Of course, the media got a hold of the story and clustered in a large group in the front of the plant. All they could see if they walked to the side of the building were large white tents. Uniforms stood in front of the crime scene tape, keeping them as far away as possible. It’s amazing the lengths these people will go to trying to sneak inside a crime scene. Helicopters were flying overhead taking aerial shots of nothing more than the tops of white tents. I couldn’t see how someone would be excited about that.

I was elected to do the actual extricating and dusting, a job I thoroughly loathed. The head of the crime lab, Dan Vaughn, would be in the hole assisting me. It was the sheriff’s decision, so it wasn’t as if I could say no.

I put on a pair of cotton coveralls to protect my clothes. Of course, these would do no good if there was body fluid, which I didn’t expect. Fluid soaks into clothes, which then have to be thrown away. I had my good jeans on and hoped they wouldn’t be ruined. I put on a pair of plastic gloves and hopped into the hole where the body was. Michael was going to be on the side, documenting the times and locations of recoveries. Crime lab technicians were next to him ready to photograph evidence. Everyone else was surrounding me in a circle, looking down, and waiting for me to begin.

Once I got up close and had a better view, I could see that the backhoe had actually clipped the side of the garbage bag, dismantling the shoe and foot bone that was caught in the first pile. This was not a bad thing. I could almost see everything inside the bag through the hole that the backhoe had torn. I needed to see if the bones were still attached to each other, which they were. This meant that all the dirt on top of the bag would need to be carefully brushed away. Instead of going in from the side, as I was doing, I would need to go in from above.

We dug out the dirt on top with our hands, scooping and brushing. Digging up a body is the last thing I thought I would have been doing that day. Once the bag was cleared, I asked for a pair of scissors so I could make a cut down the center of the bag. Then I would need to peel each side back, one at a time. I squatted over the bag, semi-sitting on a lump of dirt behind me, and my back was already throbbing. All the dirt we took off the top was bagged so it could be analyzed.

Having the body in a garbage bag was a good thing, as far as evidence goes. People don’t realize that plastic bags actually preserve evidence and keep it in one small location.

As I slowly pulled the right side of the bag away, I fell backward from the stench. I hadn’t smelled a body like this one before. The body had fermented and the fumes were noxious, burning my eyes and making them water. The closest comparison I could think of came from my high school anatomy class. The formaldehyde they used to preserve the cats we dissected was similar, but nothing like this. I was shocked that the odor was that strong after two and a half years. I assumed that the bag, the depth of the body, and the cold winters we’d experienced had something to do with it.

“Would someone turn the fans on, please?” I yelled.

Kincaid switched on the three large fans. They faced outward. We couldn’t have them blowing directly on the site because that might blow evidence away. I can’t say they were all that much help, but they were better than nothing.

I took a deep breath, and then finished peeling the right side away. Miraculously, the body was still in decent shape. It was lying on its right side, curled up in a fetal position. I couldn’t actually see the face yet, but there was still some hair on the skull, which was caved in on the upper-left side. The body had a pink shirt on, jeans, and a tennis shoe—its match already on the evidence table. Crime lab started furiously snapping pictures and videotaping the find. I took a brush and started dusting some of the dirt off the body. I had to make sure the dirt fell onto the bag. The left arm, bent and exposed, still had a significant amount of tissue on it. After peeling the left side back, we discovered the body was clutching a purse.

I repositioned myself, kneeling on the left side so I could remove the purse. When I did that, I felt my knees getting wet. A slew of obscenities came out of my mouth as I realized that the body still had fluid. I didn’t expect anyone to say a word critical of my vocabulary. I knew they were all glad it was me down in the hole instead of themselves.

I had to peel each bony finger slowly away from the purse, and slowly slide it towards me. I handed it to Dan, who handed it off to the other lab techs.

I dusted the body, took photographs, and collected evidence for another three hours before it was finally ready to be lifted out of the hole and placed on the table in the examination tent.

This was a chore in itself.

It took five of us to lift out the bag with the body on it. Not because it was heavy, but because the body was so fragile and because there was quite a bit of evidence on the bag. A slight jerk of the bag could possibly dislodge several bones. My sinuses and eyes felt like they were on fire, and when we lifted the bag off the ground, the smell, if possible, got worse. Underneath where the body lay, was a large wet spot where fluids continued to leak through the holes in the bag. The wet dirt would have to be dug out and bagged. We had to hand the body to five other people standing outside of the hole who would carry it to the table.

The bigwigs would briefly examine the remains before placing it in a body bag, as is, to be taken to Cuyahoga County for an autopsy. After collecting the wet dirt and handing it to the lab techs, I couldn’t get out of the hole fast enough. I was taking my coveralls off while still walking as I went outside. I desperately needed fresh air, and the night was full of it. I stayed outside of the tent, bagging my coveralls and disinfecting my hands. I actually poured disinfectant over the knees of my jeans where the fluid had soaked through. I would still have to throw them away, but this would alleviate the smell for a while.

I realized I was starving. The sheriff had ordered everyone pizza a couple hours before, but I hadn’t been able to eat. Some of the civilians at the scene, mainly the county maintenance workers, were appalled that any of us could eat pizza while watching a body being dug up, but when you’re hungry, you’re hungry. I grabbed a couple slices of the cold, but edible, pizza and essentially inhaled them.

When I finally felt that I’d had enough fresh air, I went to the evidence tent, which smelled horrendous, and met with Kincaid and Michael. They were watching the lab techs take the contents of the purse out and lay them on the table. When they got to the wallet, the techs put the driver’s license belonging to Karen Cummings down in front of us. The body had to be identified through dental records, but to refer to the body as belonging to Karen Cummings now was a safe assumption.

As more items were taken out and set on the table, a business card caught my eye. It was a card for The Tariff Inn, Edward C. Lewis, owner, in Tariff, West Virginia.

The reservations I’d made for Michael and me were in Tariff, but not the same place. It was the closest town to Ovapa that had actual motels. I wrote down all the information off the card, and asked Michael to find me a decent picture of Karen Cummings. When we got to West Virginia, I could show her photo to the motel owner, and possibly get a look at the sign-in sheets. Most motels require the names of persons staying in the rooms and the license plates of their cars. I would make a safe bet that Karen never stayed there alone.

Nothing else of immediate significance came out of the purse. Kincaid wrote down, for tracking, several phone numbers that had been scrawled on scraps of paper.

It was late, and I was exhausted. Still, I called my mother, who was annoyed at the time, to check on Selina and Isabelle. Eric hadn’t picked them up as he’d said he was going to do. I had no intention of going home, but I was desperate for a hot shower and some sleep. Michael and I stayed in a hotel by the interstate, separate rooms of course, with the agreement that we would leave in the late morning for West Virginia. I checked my voicemail several times, hoping I’d missed a call from Eric, but there were none.

After I settled in my room, I took off my clothes, put them in a garbage bag I’d found in the bathroom, and set the bag by the door. I turned the shower on to an almost scalding temperature. No matter how hard I scrubbed, or how long I stood under the hot water, I never felt completely clean after processing a dead body. Standing under the water, I thought how horrible it would be to lie in the dirt like that for almost three years without anyone wondering where you are. I thought it was a tragically sad situation. These people were cold-hearted monsters and needed to be stopped.

Once I was out of the shower and dressed for bed (sweat pants and a t-shirt), I carried the garbage bag holding my clothes outside to the dumpster. Walking across the parking lot, I saw the light on in Michael’s room. I debated whether I should knock on the door or not, but quickly decided against it. Why put myself in a situation that I might regret later. Furthermore, I didn’t want him to have any misconstrued thoughts about my intentions. I thought it best to go to bed and get plenty of sleep, if that was possible.

I had a horrible dream that I was buried alive in a garbage bag behind the Sheriff’s Department. I could hear people calling my name, but I couldn’t scream or talk, let alone breathe. No one knew I was there, and I kept thinking about Eric and the girls, how they would never know what happened to me. I woke up soaked with sweat. It was still dark. The nightmare had been one of the most vivid that I could ever remember. I wasn’t able to go back to sleep after that. For the rest of the night I watched movies and chain-smoked.

When Michael knocked on my door late in the morning I was ready to go, and tired as hell.

“You get enough sleep?” he asked.

“Yes I did, thank you. I slept like a baby,” I lied. “You?”

“I didn’t sleep for shit; I was up all night watching movies.” He picked up my suitcase and started carrying it to the car.

I smiled at the vision of both of us, sitting in bed, watching television all night, ignorant of each other being awake. I lost my smile when I saw that the tires on my car had been slashed.

“God damn it!” I yelled, throwing my travel bag on the hood, “These assholes don’t know when to quit!”

“They’re persistent little buggers, that’s for sure,” Michael said, bending over and looking at the right-front tire.

“I’ll call Coop and see if he can pick us up,” I said, not really liking that idea because I would have to explain why I stayed at a motel with Michael. I called him from my cell phone, and he started questioning me about what I was doing there with Michael, just as I predicted. Coop was also friends with Eric. I cut him off and told him we were taking a trip—I would explain more when he arrived—and emphasized that we’d stayed in separate rooms. I told Michael that Coop was on his way, and was calling a tow truck.

“We’ll just have him drop us off at my car,” Michael decided, “and we’ll drive that.”

“No way,” I decided. “We are getting a rental car. They knew my car and you can guarantee they know yours. If we are being watched and followed, hopefully we’ll lose them while we go to the rental place.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, slamming the car door after locking it.

Coop wouldn’t be there for a while, so we walked across the street to eat breakfast at one of the fast food places. Adding to my already lovely morning, we were too late for breakfast and had to get lunch.

The tow truck pulled into the parking lot as Michael and I walked back. Coop drove in shortly after. While Michael was haggling with the tow truck driver, Coop pulled me off to the side and hissed in my ear, “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Coop, don’t even look at me like that, or insinuate that this is some raunchy love fest, because you couldn’t be farther from the truth. I will tell you what’s going on, but prepare yourself; you’re not going to like it.”

“I stand before you with breathless anticipation.”

“We didn’t leave the dig until early this morning. We came here to get a couple hours of sleep, in separate rooms, because we’re driving to West Virginia today. Before you even ask, no, I did not clear this with Kincaid, nor am I going to. She would never allow only two people to go there, as dangerous as it is. I am simply going to leave her a voicemail, explaining where I am and what I am doing. I would greatly appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut and pretended you know nothing.”

“Have you lost your mind?” He’d clearly become angry. “Does Eric know about this?”