Chapter 3

I was in my office preparing for the examination when they paged me. Pulling on a new pair of blue gloves, I started down the hallway, my heart pounding in my ribcage. I had always been like this before an examination. Adrenaline had always coursed madly through my veins as I prepared to look death in the face. What caused it, I didn't know. Perhaps it was the stress of my profession, perhaps it was the course of emotions that came with dealing with death.

I pushed open the door to autopsy room four. Cassandra, and my other intern, Leah, were gathered around the stainless steel table in the centre. An off-white skeleton lay across it. I took a quick look. Apart from the skull, it appeared as though the C1 and C2 vertebrae were missing, along with the left ulna, and a few phalanges. I'd know full bone inventory once the examination was over. Cassandra and Leah turned to look at me.

“We've set up the medio-cam for you, Dr. Amos.” Cassandra said, nodding to a camera on a stand over the remains. I nodded.

“Good, that's going to be helpful.”

Leah looked to me. “We boiled the bones, and the flesh is completely gone. Hopefully, any damage will be easier to spot now.”

“Thanks, Leah.” I said. I walked to the table, grabbed another rolling table, and placed the examination forms on it. I turned back to the skeleton.

My assumptions about the C1 and C2 vertebrae were correct. Both were missing, probably during decapitation of the victim. The same thing went for the ulna and the phalanges. Upon closer inspection, I also noticed that the right fibula was gone.

I decided to start with the sex of the victim. Easiest job. I grabbed the pelvis of the victim, inspecting it with the naked eye before putting it under the medio-cam.

I'd been wrong with my assessment of the sex during Richard's autopsy. The pelvis was narrow, and very deep, a characteristic of a male, not a female, and there was no marker signalling childbirth. I placed my thumb inside of the notch in the fan shaped bone on the pelvis. Tight fit. Male.

Next, I tried to determine race. It would be difficult without the skull, but I could try. I checked all the bones that could even remotely give me a chance of coming up with race, to no avail. Race could not be determined. For now.

Age. I picked up the left clavicle. The epiphsyis on the sternal end was complete fused. I jotted that down on my form and picked up the femur. I took one look at it and noticed that the cap on this bone, too, was completely fused. Our victim, I estimated, was between thirty and thirty-two years of age. I set down the bones.

“Leah, Cassy, come take a look at the femur and the clavicles,” I asked. The two girls hurried over to the table, each picking up a bone, “Would you agree that our victim was around thirty?”

Leah squinted down at the bones. Cassandra did the same. There was a long silence.

“Yes.” Leah.

“Why?” I asked. I knew it wasn't really the time to test my interns, but why wait?

“The epiphsyis on both the clavicle and the femur are fused. The former usually occurs around the age of thirty.” Cassandra.

I nodded. “Very good.” I returned to the bones, and picked the femur up again, followed by the tibia and fibula. After a few quick measurements, I concluded that the man had been five foot nine. I dragged the medio-cam over the ribs.

The medio-cam is my tool of the trade. A large camera that sits on a retractable pole, it basically acts as a magnifying glass. I use it in my job to enhance the appearance of the bones, something that allows me to determine cause of death, age, sex, and even race.

There we several nicks on the first four ribs, congruent to the stab marks Richard had found hours earlier. I agreed with his conclusion of cause of death. The victim had been stabbed to death. Without the skull, of course, I wouldn't know about any sort of possible head trauma. I check the wrists. Small micro fractures radiated from the small bones in the wrist. Defence? Had the man tried to save his life?

Other than the fractures, stab wounds and decapitation, there seemed to be nothing wrong at all with the skeleton. Our victim had been a very healthy, five foot nine male. I was overcome by a wave of grief.

Who was this man? Did he have a family? Was there a woman out there that loved him, that was missing him? Were there children out there that were searching for their father? Would we ever identify him without the skull, or would he just become another statistic? Another person to die in anonymity?

I shook my head. After everything I'd witnessed in my life, I was still shocked by what violence humans were capable of. I'd never understood how one human being could kill another. If this was another serial killer, we had one sick person on our hands. Decapitation, stabbing. I stepped away from the bones.

“I believe I'm finished here. You two can place these bones back into bone storage.”

Cassandra and Leah nodded. Grabbing my examination forms, I quickly stepped out of the room and to my office. I placed the forms on my desk and sat, closing my eyes and sighing as I leaned back in the chair. It had been a long day, and questions just kept on coming.

Was Tacolini really involved in the Hadley case? Was there a connection between the Hadley case and this new, unidentified victim? Did we really have a serial killer out there? Why did Ryan constantly feel the need to act as my partner? Was he ever going to stop calling me Katie? I sighed.

I grabbed my laptop bag and my coat and headed out of my office, locking the door. I passed Richard's office and knocked. He looked up from his desk and smiled.

“The exam reports?” He asked. I nodded and smiled. Richard gestured to a place on his desk, and I dropped the reports there, saying a goodbye as I left.

The car ride home was not fun. I live in the middle of a heavily populated area, and traffic jams are frequent. I tapped my hand against the steering wheel and glanced at the clock in my car. 6:35. I had to get home and get ready for Jessica to come over.

Thirty minutes later, I arrived at my apartment. As I locked my car and hurried out of the parking garage, I saw a black Aston Martin Vanquish sitting beside the elevator door. I smiled. Jessica.

Upon seeing me, she jumped out of her fancy little car.

“Katelyn! You're late!” She scolded. I laughed.

“We never even set a time for you to be here, so shut up,” I retaliated. I nodded towards the car, “When did you get this?”

She laughed. “Adam kinda...went crazy for my birthday.”

My jaw dropped. “Your boyfriend bought you an Aston Martin Vanquish?” She nodded sheepishly.

I shook my head. “Lucky b***h.”

We entered the elevator and I pressed the floor of my apartment. When the elevator stopped, we got off, and Jessica helped me open the door to my apartment. I let her settle on the couch as I placed my things from work in the kitchen. When I was done, I called out to her.

“What do you want to drink?”

It took her a moment to reply. “A single malt scotch.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don't have scotch. What do you want to drink?”

“Vodka?”

“Fine.” I pulled a bottle of Smirnoff from the fridge and grabbed two shot glasses. I returned to the living room to find Jessica sprawled out on my couch. I shook my head.

“Comfy?”

She looked up, sat up, and reached for the bottle of vodka in my hand. I pulled it back.

“Where's the reports, missy?” I asked, titling my head. Jessica sighed dramatically and reached into the backpack she'd brought. Out came three folders. I grabbed them and handed the bottle and shot glasses to her. She eagerly grabbed the items. I was looking over the contents of each report while Jessica poured the shots.

“You haven't even got that much work to do.” I remarked, looking back to her. She looked up from the alcohol.

“Au contraire. I have the hardest parts left. I have to determine cause of death for the three vics.”

“That's the easiest part, Jessica.”

She made a face at me and downed her shot. I did the same. As she poured another two, I looked at her.

“You better not get drunk, missy, I'm not doing these all by myself.”

We spent the next thirty minutes or so drinking and looking at crime scene pictures. We hadn't even finished the second file when my phone buzzed. I looked over to Jessica, who had completely passed out. So much for helping me.

I got to my feet shakily, and walked into the kitchen to get my phone, stumbling over things as I walked.

“Hello?” I mumbled, once I'd picked the phone up. A voice I certainly did not want to hear greeted me.

“Hey, Katie. You'll never guess.” Ryan.

“What?” I mumbled, confused. I heard Ryan chuckle on the other line.

“Are you okay? You sound kind of...out of it.”

“Yeah, I'm fine, Ryan. What do you want?” I tried to regain a little bit of composure.

“You're drunk, aren't you?”

I sighed. I was a little bit...tipsy, yes. “No, Ryan, I'm not. What do you want?”

“Well, Ms. Drinker,” I rolled my eyes, “We've identified the latest victim.”

As intoxicated as I was, that cut right through it, “Who is it?

“A Mr. Robert Nichlson.”

“Who's that?” I asked. I heard Jessica stir in the living room behind me.

“A psychologist from Monaco.”

I nodded into the receiver. Jessica walked up behind me, “Who's that?”

“Ryan.” I whispered. She broke into a grin.

“Oh, Ryan? Ryan's sexy,” She said loudly, “He's like, woaaahhh. I think me and Ryan should like, find a closet somewhere and you know...” I batted her away from the phone. Ryan chuckled.

“Who's with you?”

“Jessica. My intern.”

More chuckling. “Oh, okay.”

I ignored him. “How did you identify the victim without the skull?”

“Richard compared your description of the victim to the missing persons reports, and this guy matched up. Or something.”

“Oh.” I felt dumb.

“Okay, well, Katie, I'm gonna let you get back to whatever you two girls are doing, whether it involve alcohol or not! I'll pick you up for work tomorrow at eight.”

I started to protest. Jessica interrupted. “No Ryan, don't go, I love you! Marry me!”

I heard him laugh before the phone clicked. I looked at Jessica. She looked as giddy as a school girl.

“I love Ryan.” She said. I felt dizzy.

“Me too.”

The last thing I remember was hitting the floor.