The Unwilling(30)
“I tried to count the cuts while I waited for you. I stopped at ninety-seven. That’s when I got to the, uh, the…” Burklow pointed at the raw patches where her breasts had been cut away. “You think she was alive when that happened?”
“Possibly.”
French pulled on rubber gloves, and moved blood-crusted hair from the woman’s face. One eye was swollen closed, the nostrils black with blood. He studied cheekbones, the good eye. Something about the face was familiar.
“You okay, Bill?”
“Um…”
“What is it?”
“I was just, uh…” French shook his head as if to hide a sudden sickness. He pointed, but had no idea if Burklow was looking or not. “She chewed through the tape. No wedding ring. No other jewelry. Any sign of her clothing?”
“Not yet.”
French stepped away from the body, more than shaken. Undone. “Check for me, will you?”
“Bill, you don’t look so great.”
“Search for the clothing, okay? I need a minute here.”
“Yeah. Course. Whatever you say.”
Burklow lurched into the shadows, and French took the most difficult breath of his life as a cop. He counted to ten, then lifted the woman’s head a second time.
He knew the face; he’d met her.
A week ago she was screwing his son.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the place was crawling with cops, technicians, pathologists. Directing their movements, French appeared to be in perfect control; but deep down, he warred with himself.
Tyra …
That was her name.
“Do we have ID on the victim?”
French turned in the hot sun. He’d not heard the footsteps. “Captain, I’m sorry. Say again?”
“Do we have a name yet? An address? Did you find a wallet? A driver’s license?”
David Martin stepped closer. As a homicide captain, he was competent, fair, and smart. Generally, French liked him. Not now. “No, sir. No ID.”
“What about the kid who found her?”
The captain was a clear-eyed, narrow man in his early fifties. French looked past him. The kid was still in the car. “He’s pretty shut down. I’ll try him again in a bit.”
The captain nodded, already distracted. “This’ll be a media shit storm. You know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So let’s keep it tight. You and Burklow, the medical examiner and me.” He pointed at other detectives. “Martinez. Smith. We’re the only ones who’ve seen the body, right?”
“The boy…”
“Of course, the boy.”
“And Dobson, I think. He looked pretty green when I showed up.”
“Right. First responder. Shit. I don’t know if we can keep this wrapped.”
French dipped his head at the structure. “Don’t forget the photographer, the fingerprint techs, the boy’s parents, when we find them.”
“I want time. Talk to your people. Give me what you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jesus, Bill…” The captain’s composure failed as he mopped sweat from his face. “As a father, what do you do with this?”
“I say a silent prayer and thank God for my sons.”
“I have girls.”
“The twins, I know.”
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” He wasn’t looking for an answer, so French didn’t give him one. “You know how long I’ve had this job? Too long, maybe.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“But you’ve got this, right? I can leave it with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good man. Thank you.” The captain gathered himself, buttoning his jacket. “If you need me, I’ll be at the high school, then at the station.”
“The high school?”
“I think I’ll give my girls a hug.”
“Good idea.”
“Oh, and Bill…”
“Yeah?”
“Call me when you identify the victim. She’ll have family and friends. Someone somewhere is worried.”
“Soon as we have a name.” French watched the captain nod, and slide into his car. Inside, the war raged on.
Her name is Tyra …
She’s been with my son …
* * *
When French returned to his car, the kid’s color was better. “Mind if I sit with you for a while?” He slid behind the wheel. “I’m sorry you had to wait. It’s kind of crazy out there.”
“I’ve been watching.”
“Ah, he talks.” French kept it light because the boy still looked as thin as glass. “Remember what I told you before? You’re safe here. The bad people are gone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Samuel.”
“Do you live nearby, Samuel?”
The boy gave an address. French knew it.
“I know I’m supposed to be in school…”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re not in trouble. My name is Bill.”