Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(56)

They clipped on the badges and headed down a long sloping hallway. He opened the door to the forensic anthropology wing and was hit by a blast of cold air.

“You seem edgy today.”

He looked at Callie, but didn’t answer. Not that it was a question, really.

“Something up with Brooke?”

He glared at her.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They turned the corner and spotted a woman in a white lab coat striding down the hallway.

“You must be the detectives.” She stopped in front of them and folded her arms over her chest. As opposed to Kelsey, who was a tall redhead, this woman was short and blond. She was no less intimidating, though, as she looked him over.

“Sean Byrne.” He extended a hand, but she ignored it. “And this is Detective Callie McLean.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Dr. Lockhart said, clearly not delighted at all.

She opened the door to her right and led them into Kelsey’s office. At least, Sean had always thought of it as Kelsey’s. Several desks shared the space, and Dr. Lockhart sank into a chair behind the nearest one, which was blanketed in paperwork.

“Have a seat,” she ordered.

They did, and Callie shot Sean a look of annoyance. She’d been right, and now both of them had gotten off on the wrong foot with this contact.

“Sorry for the interruption. I’ll try to make this quick.” He smiled, but the doctor looked unmoved. “We’re here about the autopsy from Lake Wiley.”

“The one I completed five minutes ago. I haven’t finished my report yet.”

“I understand. We just need your preliminary findings.”

“I haven’t finished my preliminary report yet. I was literally washing my hands when you showed up here without an appointment.”

Sean gave her what he hoped was a charming smile. “Yeah, we don’t usually do that. We’ve got a situation today.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“We’ve got two death investigations going right now, and I believe they’re connected.”

“How can you possibly know that? This victim hasn’t even been ID’d yet.”

“Victim?” Callie leaned closer. “So, it’s definitely a homicide?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”

“What about cause of death?” Sean asked. “I saw her at the scene, but it was hard to tell what happened. The body was in rough shape.”

“As are most of our cases. Forensic anthropologists don’t typically get involved unless the remains are in poor condition. Which leads me to the question—again—how can you know who she is when we don’t have a formal ID yet?”

“Jasmine Jones.”

Callie glanced at Sean. Even she looked surprised that he’d tossed out a name.

“I saw her Saturday morning at the other victim’s funeral.”

“How do you know it was her? This woman was badly beaten and she’d spent at least a day underwater.”

“Her jewelry. She had silver rings on both hands. Lots of them. They were distinctive.”

“Listen, Detective—”

“It’s Sean.”

“Sean.” Dr. Lockhart leaned her elbows on the desk. “Jewelry can hardly be considered conclusive for identification purposes. We have to run her fingerprints. We submitted them, but they may not even be in the system.”

“They are. Jasmine Jones has been arrested on possession charges, as well as prostitution. I know who she is. Now, could you please tell me what happened to her?”

Sean waited, watching her, but Dr. Lockhart still didn’t seem inclined to open up. This was his pet peeve about scientists. They had to be 100 percent proof-positive certain before they’d go ahead with anything.

Except for Brooke. She went with her gut, same as Sean did—one of the many reasons he’d always liked working with her.

“So. Cause of death,” he said, trying to dig up some patience. “Was she drowned? Strangled? Stabbed?”

“Manual strangulation.”

Sean sat back in his chair, relieved to have an answer at least.

“There’s evidence of bruising in the tissue around her neck, and she was not breathing when she went into that water.” The doctor looked at Callie, then back to Sean again. “There’s also evidence she struggled with her attacker. Hence, the facial injuries. She had multiple contusions, and her right zygomatic bone was fractured.”

“Her cheekbone?” Sean asked.

“That’s correct.”

“Time of death?”

“Hard to say. At least twenty-four hours in the water. I’d say the death occurred shortly beforehand, within an hour.”

“Any evidence of a fall?”

She paused. “Why do you ask?”

“The dam.”

Callie looked at him. “You’re thinking he strangled her and dumped her off the dam?”

“That’s the only upstream bridge. It’s about fifty feet high, so it seems like the body would show signs of impact.”

“It would,” the doctor said. “And I can tell you she also suffered several cracked ribs that would be consistent with a drop like that, particularly if the drop occurred postmortem.”