Waking the Dead (6 page)
Cait was scanning the area around them. “But summer’s the peak season?”
Wondering what she was getting at, he nodded. “We’ve got ski resorts. Lots of people snowmobile, cross-country ski, and snowshoe in the winter. But summer and fall are busiest, yeah.”
“And Castle Rock is a local attraction, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer before going on. “Lots of people hike it, Andrews said. Anyone could have stumbled across that cave, at any time.”
Dryly, Zach responded, “You may have noticed, it’s not exactly easy to get to. But, sure. It was only a matter of time before someone found what was dumped there. Fact is people were probably in that cave before me. Either they didn’t go far enough inside or didn’t have the equipment to get down in the chamber and check things out.”
She seemed to consider that for a few minutes, lost in thought. And he had the distinct impression she’d managed to forget his existence. So he wadded up his sandwich wrapper and stuffed it into a pocket in his bag. Withdrawing his water bottle, he removed his glasses and squirted some water on the lenses, wiping them clean with the hem of his shirt. Then he took another drink, before glancing back at the woman beside him.
She had her phone out, was punching in a number. But after holding it to her ear for a few moments she flipped it shut and shoved it back inside the pack at her feet. “Barnes isn’t answering, but I’ll keep trying. Worst-case scenario, we’ll start back for the vehicle and he can pick us up on the way.”
“You might find him a bit more difficult to manipulate than you’re used to.” Zach knew he was being a prick and couldn’t say why this woman seemed to bring out the worst in him. The reaction annoyed him. It meant she had an effect on him, even if it was a negative one. He didn’t like the thought of that at all.
She froze in the act of bringing her sandwich to her mouth. Her voice went dangerously cool. “Care to explain that remark?”
There was no reason in the world for him to pick up the verbal gauntlet. No reason, really, to be such a dick. Yet he heard himself saying, “He’s gay. So he’s not likely to fall for any of the usual ways you probably use to bring guys into line. If he’s busy, we’re likely going to have to wait for hours before he can get to us.” He shrugged, shoving the bottle back into his pack, and awaited her reaction. It wasn’t long in coming. It also wasn’t what he expected.
“Well, that’s a disappointment.”
Her tone was husky enough to have his throat drying out again. He couldn’t have prevented himself from looking at her on a bet. And once there, his gaze stayed, transfixed.
She took off her sunglasses, the movement slow. Leisurely. He had a moment to observe that her eyes were the same color as the moss covering one side of the rock they sat on before she reached up languidly and pulled the cap from her head. Loosened her hair and shook it back before allowing it to settle into place around that exquisite face.
He knew when he was being taken for a ride. Knew it, and was helpless to look away, even as he had to remind his lungs to go to work. The tip of her tongue slicked over her lips before she parted them, just a little. Her eyes went slumberous and her expression . . .
Her expression was pure sex. The come-on as easy to read as neon against a starless sky. And brutally effective. Even knowing he was being had, Zach felt himself harden on cue. Which royally pissed him off.
“Well, my kind is best at seduction, but if that isn’t going to work, I guess I won’t be able to convince Barnes”—she touched the base of her throat in a way guaranteed to draw a man’s gaze—“to do much of anything. Which will be a shame.” When her hands dropped to the hem of her T-shirt, his pulse gave a leap like a stallion lurching from the starting gate. She dragged it up over an impossibly slender torso to expose a ribbed tank that clung to curves that had been fashioned by a very benevolent god. “I guess that means I’ll just have to”—she leaned forward, giving him a tongue-lolling view of cleavage—“ask him nicely and hope that’s enough.”
With barely restrained violence, he grabbed for his water bottle again, chugged enough to wash down that boulder-sized knot in his throat. “You do that.”
Her voice normal now, she shoved her shirt into her pack, her movements rife with temper. “You are a complete and utter tool, Sharper. It’s hard to believe you could build a business that depends on tourism, given your personality. I can only figure that your employees do an admirable job of covering for the fact that you’re devoid of any redeeming qualities.”
He could have told her that he’d once had a few redeeming qualities. But that was
before
. He wasn’t sure
that
Zach Sharper existed anymore.
before
. He wasn’t sure
that
Zach Sharper existed anymore.
Instead he remained silent, which was what he should have done before eliciting that little scene. She didn’t seem to expect a response. With movements jerky with fury, she was pulling her hair back again, donning the cap and sunglasses.
Shoving the now-empty bottle back into his pack, he followed her lead and got ready to move out. She took off without waiting for him, unerringly taking the path that would lead to the switchback heading down the other side of Castle Rock. He followed more slowly, gritting his teeth against the discomfort from the tighter fit of his jeans.
And knowing he had no one but himself to blame for his state didn’t improve his mood one damn bit.
“Fast work.” Marin Andrews, trailed by Mitch Barnes, paused at the foot of each gurney before throwing Cait an approving glance. “I’m impressed.”
The sheriff’s reaction helped dissipate a bit of the exhaustion riding her. Cait and Kristy had been working nearly round the clock for forty-eight hours on the remains at the morgue. She was pleased with the progress they’d made, even while she was less thrilled with the growing flirtation between the ME and her assistant.
But Cait was willing to admit that might have something to do with the irritation she still felt when she recalled the time spent with Zach Sharper. Throwing herself into the lab work to be done with the bones had distracted her from the annoyance she felt every time she thought of the man. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t bumped up against that sort of Neander thal attitude before. She’d spent years in a career where she’d been seen as little more than a face, a body, a shell to be posed and photographed and stamped with someone else’s brand. And it hadn’t only been men who had treated her that way.
So it wasn’t Sharper she was angry at. Not really. It was herself, for reacting to his baiting in a similarly juvenile fashion. She’d thought she was well beyond behavior fueled by self-indulgence. Although this hardly ranked up there with some of the more self-destructive choices of her past, it still stung to discover she could respond without thought to her position.
And it suited her to share the blame of that with Sharper.
She stepped aside to allow Barnes room to view the bones. “These are definitely human remains,” she began. “Anatomical specimens can be purchased from a supply house, but that was easy enough to rule out since the bones don’t have amalgam restorations. Fillings,” she explained, when she caught the quizzical look Andrews shot her. “Michaels did a decent job of laying out the remains, but not all the bones matched up with the correct skeleton, so there was some reassembly necessary. And of course not all the bones of each victim are accounted for.” When she saw the sheriff open her mouth, Cait put in, “I’ll go into that more in a minute. Once we aligned the bones correctly, we used calipers and an osteometric board to remeasure them to get more exact approximations. There’s also a computer program that we utilized that is pretty effective at calculating stature. Kristy?” She flicked a glance at her assistant, who silently handed the two law enforcement personnel a copy of their findings. “You’ll note some differences from Michaels’s initial report.”
“So we know height and sex. And that the bones are human.”
“We know a bit more than that.” Cait ignored the sheriff’s testy tone. “These weren’t discarded medical specimens, either. Generally those would be bleached white, have hardware attaching the bones together, and the bones would have a more polished appearance from excessive handling. Nor have they had prolonged exposure to soil.”
“You figure that because they’re clean?” It was the first Barnes had spoken since entering the room.
“Partially. Bones will take on the color of the surrounding soil. But the acidity of the soil will also eventually erode the surface of the bone.” She indicated the ulna in the specimen closest to her. “That hasn’t happened. Not on any set of remains. I’ve found virtually no trace of sediment on the bone.”
“But you can tell how old each individual was at time of death, right?” This from Andrews again. She was moving slowly from gurney to gurney, peering at each set of remains as if to derive the answers she was seeking for herself.
“I can approximate.” She skirted around Andrews and Barnes to retrace her steps toward the first gurney. “For purposes of identification at this time we’re referring to the remains as female A through C and male D through G. Keep in mind the data is very preliminary,” she stressed. Cait was a long way from drawing ironclad conclusions before all the tests were done, but in the course of an investigation, she developed a working set of details that morphed as more information became available.
Judging from the impatience on the sheriff’s expression, she was more than willing to get to the conclusions, so Cait wasted no more time. “These are all adults. Without the craniums, I have to rely on examination of the auricular surface of the ilium, the sternal ends of the right ribs three through five, and pubic symphysis. None of the remains appear geriatric. I did find evidence of osteoarthritis in female C and males D and G. With all things considered, ages for the individuals range from late thirties to midsixties.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Andrews’s normally stern expression relaxed into a slight smile. “Got specifics?”
“Yes, our findings are documented in a copy I prepared for you.” The corner of Cait’s mouth pulled up. “I tried to keep it to layman’s terms as much as possible. Your youngest victim here is female C, approximately thirty-five to forty. The oldest is male D, who was between sixty to sixty-five at the time of death.”
“Can you tell which one’s been down there the longest?” Andrews took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the moisture on her forehead. Since the temperature in the room was set at sixty-eight, Cait assumed the woman was having a hot flash. Her face had flushed to a bright shade of pink.
“No. The odds of me being able to pin down the sequence in their deaths are pretty remote. And the trickiest part of this process will be nailing down the age of the skeletal remains themselves.”
Barnes and Andrews exchanged a glance. “What about radiocarbon dating?” the deputy demanded.
“That’s time-consuming, expensive, and would only give you a calibration date specific to a century.” Cait shook her head. “Since we’re not dealing with archeological remains, that’s unnecessary. I can tell you with a great deal of certainty that at least one of these victims died within the last year to eighteen months.”
“Holy shit.” Barnes breathed the words, his eyes sliding shut for a moment.
Andrews stopped in the act of putting away her handkerchief. And the leap of glee to her expression made Cait more than a little uneasy. “How can you be sure? You just got done saying aging the remains would be tricky.”
Motioning for the others to follow her, Cait strode to stand between the third and fourth stainless steel gurneys. “See the difference in the bone color between these two sets of remains? Male G’s bones have a waxy, almost yellowish cast. That means they’re fresher, for want of a better word.” She indicated the remains on the next table. “When the bones dry out more they become whiter.”
“Cause of death?” Andrews’s voice was sharp with excitement.
She hesitated, unwilling to relay what was really only a suspicion at this point. “Undetermined as yet. On the one hand we have no fresh fractures to the arms or fingers, which would indicate defensive wounds. But my initial conclusion is that the deaths were unnatural, although there is little hard evidence of that at this point.”
“If there’s little evidence, how can you be sure?” Barnes’s tone was curious. He’d started growing a mustache since the last time Cait had seen him. She wondered if it was a personal choice, or if he’d been keeping hours as late as her own and had cut down on shaving.
“Process of elimination.” From the corner of her eye she saw Kristy move to the back counter and begin to assemble the copies of their test results in two folders, one each for Andrews and Barnes. “The method of disposal is suspicious in and of itself. It’s highly possible that a death wound was sustained to the skull. As such, we wouldn’t be able to answer that question unless and until we recover the craniums. We can be sure there is no evidence of blunt-force trauma, wounds from bullets or knives to the bodies. Discovering whether poison might have been used is a long shot. That tends to show up in hair, nails, and skin. But there’s a possibility that cause of death may be broken neck. Several of the remains show a fracture of one or more of the cervical vertebra.”
“That could be evidence of a fall,” Andrews pointed out. “And if those bags were just dumped in that cave, the injury could have occurred upon contact with the cave floor.”
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