Forgotten in Death(87)

She appreciated the sunshades, as the sun beamed like a laser. And its strength in a solid blue sky made her think the infamous “they” missed the mark again on rain.

Once again, she walked through the lab and up the steps to DeWinter’s area.

The bones, the woman’s, the fetus’s, lay on the tables as they had the day before.

This time, no kid full of questions lounged in the room. And no DeWinter worked with those bones.

A little steamed, she checked DeWinter’s office—empty—then made her way to the next section.

She found Elsie Kendrick working on the sketch, with the computer-generated version on-screen while she used a large sketch pad.

Not complete, not yet, but for the first time Eve had an image.

Delicate features, yes, but sharp. Slender nose, a bowed mouth, high cheekbones, long, almond-shaped eyes, very deep-set, and ears small, close to the head.

A striking face, Eve thought, the sort that would have stayed striking had she been allowed to live decades longer.

“Middle East heritage,” Eve said, and Elsie jolted.

“You gave me a start! And good eye. Yes, from her tests and studies this far, Dr. DeWinter’s determined Middle Eastern genetics. Most probably Lebanese.”

“What about the fetus?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ve focused on her. I don’t have enough for the holo or for running facial rec, but I’m getting close.”

“I can see her.”

“Yes.” Elsie smiled a little. “It’s a strong, memorable face even with its delicacy. Maybe because of it. I haven’t added it yet, but going by genetics, she’d have had dark hair, likely true black. And extrapolating from the era when she died, the profile of her personality you and Dr. Mira provided, I see her with long, straight hair, simply styled.”

“Yeah, I can see that, too. Where’s DeWinter?”

“On her way in. She ran a little late this morning. Her usual child care provider’s still down, so she went with her backup.” She smiled again. “Miranda had some objections. She should be here any minute.”

“Okay. Can you make me a copy of what you’ve got so far?”

“I could, but if you give me a bit more time, I should have her finished. A few hours more, I’ll have the full body—best probability pre-pregnancy and at TOD.”

“Send me the complete as soon as you have it, but I’ll take what you’ve got now. I can add in the confirmed data points, run it through any missing persons for the time frame, try facial recognition. I could hit there.”

She turned as she heard the click of heels.

“Elsie, I’m sorry—” DeWinter hurried in, stopped when she saw Eve. “Dallas. We’re not going to get this done any faster because you’re hovering.”

“I needed an update.” She gestured to the sketch. “And I’ve got one.”

“You’ll get more if you let Elsie work.” She waved a hand in a commanding come-along, and clicked out.

Eve just turned, gave Elsie and her careful poker face a nod. “Thanks,” she said, and went after DeWinter.

“Again,” DeWinter began the moment Eve stepped in, “the victim was a female between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. Highest probability indicates earlier rather than middle twenties. She was in good health before sustaining three gunshot wounds, one in the sternum, one on the left side, which cracked the rib as discussed, and one in the left shoulder.”

“The shoulder?”

“The dislocated shoulder we project sustained that injury when she fell, yes.”

As she spoke, she opened a closet and took a pink lab coat—that matched her shoes—from a forest of others. “She also sustained a head blow—again, from the fall in all probability. The ballistic report, as you know, identifies the recovered slugs as thirty-two caliber.”

As DeWinter swung on the lab coat, she circled to the other side of the table. “The full panel DNA confirms my belief the victim was of Middle Eastern heritage.”

“You didn’t mention that belief yesterday.”

“Because it wasn’t yet confirmed. Now it is. Both parents were Middle Eastern. Lebanese is, again, the highest probability. She had a hairline fracture, well healed, on her right ankle. A childhood injury, at about the age of twelve. There’s no sign of abuse, addictions, serious illnesses. Everything indicates excellent health care, excellent dental care and hygiene.”

When she paused, Eve pushed in. “What about the fetus?”

“Healthy, approximately thirty-two weeks. The DNA is Middle Eastern—maternal—and paternally, European—that is, primarily Britain. Also Germany and some northern Europe.”

“Don’t tell me Lithuania.”

DeWinter looked baffled. “No, why?”

“Stupid joke. Nothing.”

“Scandinavia, likely Sweden. Anglo-Saxon, Caucasian.”

“Interesting. So, thirty-seven years ago—”

“Between thirty-five and forty, more likely on the lower end,” DeWinter interrupted.

“Plans and building permits, such as they are, say that cellar went into construction thirty-seven years ago, in the fall. That’s when she went in.”

“You assume.”