Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(39)

“She’s been here awhile,” said Tam. He had not needed Maura’s help to recognize that the remains were female. “How long, do you think?”

“Fully skeletonized. Spine no longer articulated,” Maura observed. “These ligament attachments have already decayed.”

“Meaning months? Years?” said Crowe.

“Yes.”

Crowe gave a grunt of impatience. “That’s as specific as you’re gonna get?”

“I once saw full skeletonization in a shallow grave after only three months, so I can’t give you a more specific answer. My best estimate for postmortem interval is a minimum of six months. The fact she’s nude and the grave is pretty shallow would accelerate decay, but it was deep enough to protect her from scavenging carnivores.”

As if in response, there was a loud caw overhead. She glanced up to see three crows perched on branches, watching them. She’d seen the damage that corvids could cause to a human body, how those beaks could shred ligaments and pluck eyes from sockets. In unison the birds rose in a flurry of spiky wings.

“Creepy birds. Like little vultures,” said Tam, watching them flap away.

“And incredibly intelligent. If only they could talk to us.” She looked at him. “What’s the history of this property?”

“Belonged to some elderly lady for about forty years. She died fifteen years ago, it ended up in probate, and the house fell into disrepair. There were renters off and on, but it sat vacant for most of the time. Until this couple bought it around three years ago.”

Maura looked around the perimeter. “No fences. And it backs up to woods.”

“Yeah, it abuts Stony Brook Reservation. Easy access to anyone looking for a place to bury a body.”

“And the current owners?”

“Nice young couple. They’ve been slowly fixing up the house, renovated the bathroom and kitchen. This was the year they decided to add an in-ground pool. Before they started digging for the pool, they said this part of the yard was pretty thick with weeds.”

“So this burial probably predates their purchase of the house.”

“What about our girl here?” Crowe cut in. “You see a cause of death?”

“Have a little patience, Detective. I haven’t even finished unwrapping her.” Maura peeled away the last of the blue tarp, exposing tibias and fibulae, metatarsals and … She froze, staring at orange nylon cord, still looped around the anklebones. An image instantly snapped into her head. Another crime scene. Orange nylon cord. A body hanging from its ankles, eviscerated.

Without a word, she moved back to the rib cage. Knelt closer and stared at the xiphoid process, where the ribs came together to join at the breastbone. Even on that overcast day, in the gloom of the woods, she could see the distinct nick in the bone. She pictured the body, suspended upside down by its ankles. Pictured a blade slicing downward through the belly, from pubis to sternum. That nick was right where the blade would land.

Her hands suddenly felt chilled inside the gloves.

“Dr. Isles?” Tam said.

She ignored him and looked at the skull. There on the frontal bone, where the forehead sloped down to the brow, were three parallel scratches.

She rocked back on her knees, stunned. “We need to call Rizzoli.”

FIREWORKS AHEAD, THOUGHT JANE as she ducked under the bright strand of police tape. This was not her crime scene, not her turf, and she fully expected Darren Crowe to make that clear from the start. She thought of Leon Gott yelling Get off my lawn at the neighbor’s kid. Imagined Crowe thirty years from now, an equally cranky old man, yelling Get off my crime scene!

But it was Johnny Tam who greeted her in the side yard. “Rizzoli,” he said.

“How’s his mood?”

“The usual. All sunshine and brightness.”

“That good, huh?”

“He’s not too happy with Dr. Isles at the moment.”

“I’m not too happy, either.”

“She insisted on bringing you in. And when she talks, I listen.”

Jane eyed Tam, but as usual she couldn’t read his face; she’d never been able to. Though he was new to the homicide unit, he’d already built a reputation as a man who went about his work with quiet and unassuming doggedness. Unlike Crowe, Tam was no glory hound.

“You agree with her that there’s a link between these cases?” she asked.

“I know Dr. Isles isn’t one to rely on hunches. Which is why it kind of surprised me, that she called you about this. Considering the predictable blowback.”

They didn’t need to say the name to know they were both talking about Crowe.

“So how bad is it, working with him?” she asked as they moved down the flagstone path toward the backyard.

“Aside from the fact I’ve already ripped through three punching bags in the gym?”

“Trust me, it won’t get better. Working with him is like Chinese water tor—” She stopped. “You know what I mean.”

Tam laughed. “We Chinese may have invented it, but Crowe perfected it.”

They emerged into the backyard and she saw the object of their scorn standing with Maura. Everything about Crowe’s body language screamed pissed off, from his rigid neck to his agitated gestures.

“Before you turn this into a three-ring circus,” he said to Maura, “how about giving us a more specific time of death?”