Cut and Run(68)

“The victim’s pelvic bowl is wide, also suggesting female.”

The pubic bones separated during childbirth as the baby passed through the birth canal. It was during the birthing that ligaments could tear or bleed, and as the body healed, the bones remodeled, leaving small pits and marks on their surfaces.

“These bones are smooth,” Faith said.

“She may not have given birth,” Nancy said. “She may not be who you think she is.”

“Or she died right after the baby’s delivery, before her bones had the chance to heal. I can’t imagine giving birth in a place like that basement room at the ranch,” Faith said.

“Childbirth-related deaths are one in four thousand in this country, but out in the middle of nowhere with no medical equipment, the death rate would be so much higher.”

Faith thought about the magazines with the young girl’s handwriting crammed in the margins. Fury and frustration collided, but she now had to shift her focus to the victim’s long femur bone.

Sensing her uneasiness, Nancy reached for a tape measure and ran it along the length of the femur. “It measures about twenty inches. Extrapolating from that number, I would estimate this person was five foot five to five foot seven inches tall.”

Like her. Like Macy. “How old do you think this person was?”

Nancy returned to the skull and studied the line down the center. Called the sagittal suture, this line marked where the growth plates in the skull joined. Most people’s closed up by age twenty-six, but everyone’s was fused by age thirty-five. This line wasn’t closed.

“I’m guessing she was seventeen to twenty-one,” Nancy said.

“Agreed.”

“Her teeth for the most part are in good shape. One deep cavity on the back molar that would have bothered her.”

“What else do you notice about her?” Faith said.

“No signs of trauma. Cause of death is inclusive at this point.”

Sadness clenched her chest as she turned from the table and pulled off her latex gloves.

“I want to see the other two sets of remains the moment they arrive. Understood?”

“Will do, Dr. McIntyre.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Thursday, June 28, 7:45 a.m.

Hayden had been on the phone since before dawn with several judges until he found one willing to sign a warrant for Garnet’s bar by early morning. In the interim, he ordered a patrol car to be stationed outside Second Chances and asked to be alerted if anyone appeared.

While Hayden and Brogan waited on the warrant, they headed to the law offices of Slater & McIntyre. Last night, Faith had texted him, informing him of her meeting with Franklin and the missing girls’ connections to the law firm. The law offices opened at eight, and he planned to be on their doorstep when they did.

Before they cleared the parking lot, his phone rang. The display on his phone read SPAGNOLO, the forensic technician who’d been working the grave site last night.

“I’m with Brogan and putting you on speakerphone,” Hayden said.

“Understood,” Spagnolo said.

Hayden pressed the speaker button. “Go ahead. What do you have for us?”

“We were there until midnight and were able to remove the first set of remains,” Spagnolo said. “It took longer than we expected because we sifted through each cup of soil to ensure there were no personal items that might have been with the victim. We did find a few metal snaps, but whatever fabric the victim had been wearing disintegrated a long time ago. We also found two pennies near the skull.”

“Pennies?” Hayden asked.

“Best guess, someone was superstitious enough to think the victim needed the money to pay the ferryman,” Spagnolo theorized. “Greek mythology said the mythical ferryman requires the pennies in exchange for passage across the river Styx from the earth to the underworld.”

Crow had been superstitious. “Maybe he was more worried that she’d not cross over and would come back to haunt him.”

“I can only hope,” Brogan muttered.

“What’s on the docket for today?” Hayden asked.

“We have two crews working sites number two and three simultaneously,” Spagnolo said. “Barring any complications, we should be finished by the end of the day.”

“Thanks for the update,” Hayden said. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Spagnolo ended the call.

Hayden pulled into the parking lot of Slater & McIntyre, located in a glass-and-brick building in downtown Austin.

Brogan checked his phone. “Just received an email from a buddy of mine at the state employment commission.”

“Are you going to make me guess?” Hayden asked.

“Guess who worked for Slater and McIntyre in the mideighties?”

“Danny Garnet.”

“Correct. So did Jack Crow.”

“Interesting.”

As they stepped through the front doors, they removed their hats, and Hayden’s gaze was drawn to the portrait of a man with a round face and thick graying hair wearing a crisp, dark suit standing in a law library. The painting, hanging near the receptionist’s mahogany antique desk, depicted only one of the firm’s two founding principals, Peter Slater Sr., when he was in his early forties. All traces of Russell McIntyre had been erased after his arrest years ago.