Dead Against Her (Bree Taggert, #5)(8)

“Can’t tie someone up and hold a gun against their head at the same time,” Todd said.

“Those knots will need to be preserved.” Bree stepped back. “We’ll consider both single and multiple assailants at this time. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find prints.”

But Matt doubted anyone who had orchestrated this crime would have left prints. The overall scene was too organized. This killer had successfully killed two people, one of them former law enforcement, with little fuss. He checked Oscar’s hands. The fingers were purple and bloated, but Matt didn’t see any scrapes on the knuckles that would indicate Oscar had fought back. The assailants had known what they were doing. Matt thought it likely they’d killed before.

He spotted a hole in the plaster wall. “There’s one bullet.”

“I see another down by the baseboard,” Todd said. “Might have ricocheted after it hit one of his legs.”

Bree’s radio crackled and a voice said, “The medical examiner is here.”

A few minutes later, Dr. Serena Jones appeared in the doorway. The tall African American woman wore scrubs and carried her kit. Her assistant followed, carrying an additional kit and standing aside to wait for the ME to complete her initial assessment. The group exchanged professional greetings, and then Dr. Jones paused to scan the overall scene before advancing closer to the bodies and giving them a cursory inspection using her own flashlight.

Dr. Jones drew back. “Is that Deputy Oscar?”

“Yes,” Bree said. “The vehicle in the barn is registered to him, and the neighbor confirmed the older woman is his mother, Camilla Brown.”

The ME nodded. “I recognize him, but given the obvious beating and the beginning of bloat, I’ll confirm the IDs of both victims medically.” The ME was all about dotting i’s and crossing t’s.

“Property records show the female has owned this property for twenty years,” Bree said. “She should have local medical or dental records.”

Matt knew Oscar had worked for the sheriff’s office for more than two decades and had lived in the area his whole life. His health records should also be easy to obtain.

Dr. Jones continued. “Cause of death appears to be gunshot wounds, to be confirmed upon autopsy. Considering the amount of blood on the floor, it appears that the bullet wounds to the male’s body bled considerably, indicating his heart was still beating. The head shot bled very little and was likely the fatal wound.” Once a person was dead, their wounds didn’t bleed much.

“Can you give us an approximate time of death?” Bree asked.

Avoiding the blood on the floor, the ME walked a slow circle around the victims. “The house isn’t air-conditioned, and the weather has been moderate this week. I doubt temperature significantly affected the rate of decomposition.”

Bodies exposed to exceptionally warm temperatures would decay faster. The opposite was true of bodies in cold atmospheres. But early September had been comfortable, with daily temps fluctuating between 65 and 75 degrees Fahrenheit.

Dr. Jones used two gloved hands to slightly turn the female victim’s head. “Rigor mortis has come and gone, so we’re probably beyond thirty-six hours postmortem.”

Rigor mortis, or the chemical stiffening of the muscles after death, generally peaked around twelve hours after death, remained for twelve hours, and gradually released over the next twelve.

The ME pursed her lips. “Body temperature won’t be helpful after this many hours. At room temperature, an average human body cools 1.5 degrees per hour. These two normal-weight, normally dressed bodies would have reached room temp by eighteen hours or so.”

Dr. Jones lifted the hem of the female victim’s blouse to examine the abdomen. “The first signs of decomp begin at that stage.”

Matt saw green-tinted skin as well as a few green-and-black streaks known as marbling that marked the breaking down of blood vessels.

Dr. Jones pointed a gloved finger at the right side of the victim’s abdomen. “See the discoloration in the right iliac fossa region? The intestines are loaded with bacteria and lie close to the surface. Early stages of putrefaction are usually evident here.” She straightened and studied the body with a professional frown. “So, we have moderate fly activity, marbling, and some bloat in the torso.” She paused, as if weighing all the factors. “At the moment, I estimate the postmortem interval is thirty-six to forty-eight hours. I might be able to narrow that window during autopsy.”

Matt looked at his watch. Eight p.m. “So they were killed between eight p.m. Sunday and eight a.m. Monday.”

“Yes,” Dr. Jones agreed.

Bree nodded. “The neighbor last saw Camilla Sunday morning at church, so that fits.”

Matt and Bree might be able to pinpoint the time since death more closely through their investigation, but it was a beginning.

“Let’s get started.” The ME signaled to her assistant, who stood by with a camera. The assistant began photographing the bodies in situ. Images would be taken from all angles, beginning at a distance and spiraling inward, before the bodies were removed from the scene.

Matt, Bree, and Todd walked out of the house to let the ME work. The wind shifted, bringing the scent of manure with it. Matt almost laughed. Any smell pungent enough to overpower the scent of decomp was welcome, even manure.