Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(25)

“What can you tell me, Frank?” Brody asked.

“You know I hate to guess, Brody.”

“And you know how important these first few hours are to my investigation, Frank. I won’t hold you to anything. Just give me somewhere to start.” Brody lowered his voice. “For Chet.”

Frank frowned at the body. “Do you have any specific reason to believe it’s his daughter?”

Brody glanced around. He didn’t want any false statements getting back to Chet or to the media. “Nothing beyond basic description. I’d like to ease his mind if possible.”

Frank met his eye. “My preliminary observations. Victim is female. Caucasian. Body is slender. Hard to age her with the amount of damage to her face, but skin and muscle tone indicates she is likely young. Facial trauma will make identification by appearance impossible. From the bruising patterns on her forearms I’d say she tried to block the blows, maybe even fought back a little.”

“Maybe we’ll get some DNA under her nails,” Brody said.

“We can hope.” Frank scratched his bald head.

“Time of death?”

Frank’s lips pursed. Hands on hips, he stared back at the body. “Twelve to twenty-four hours. I’ll narrow that window when I get her on the table.”

“When do you think you’ll get to the autopsy?”

“First thing tomorrow morning. I’d do it tonight, but I don’t have the staff available. I won’t half-ass it, though. I’ll get the body fingerprinted ASAP.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Brody said.

“I hope it’s not her.” The ME turned back to the clearing. Brody watched him slip paper bags over the victim’s hands to protect any tissue that might be lodged under her fingernails.

Don’t we all. Brody walked through the scene with the lead crime scene investigator. They agreed on the search perimeter and discussed evidence to be bagged. Brody pointed out the used condom by the lane. “Plus, the usual soil and bug samples.”

“Hey, Brody.” A tech brought him a slip of paper. “We found a receipt in her jacket pocket.”

Brody brightened with thoughts of store surveillance tapes and an easy visual ID. “A receipt?”

“Unfortunately, it’s a generic register tape. No store name.” The tech showed him a small plastic baggie containing the paper. “I’ll get you a copy of this.”

“Thanks.” Why is it never that easy? Brody squinted at the paper. She’d purchased cigarettes yesterday at eight in the evening. Today was Sunday. She’d been killed between four p.m. Saturday and four a.m. Sunday. This receipt just narrowed the likely window. She was probably alive at eight p.m.

Brody headed toward the teenagers. Stella broke into a jog to catch up. In the street, she introduced him to the seventeen-year-olds, who confirmed the accidental finding of the body. Stella had already taken their statements, driver’s license numbers, and contact information, so Brody let the kids go home, despite the faint scent of marijuana wafting from them. Like Stella, Brody was willing to give them a break for doing the right thing. They climbed into an aging Honda and drove off. A van from the medical examiner’s office parked in the Honda’s place. Two attendants jumped down from the cab, opened the back, and wheeled out the gurney.

“Oh, no.” Stella tapped his arm and pointed down the road. A dark blue sedan pulled onto the shoulder near the gate. Chet got out and walked toward them.

“What do you have?” Chet braced his hands on his hips. His suit jacket and white shirt bagged on his frame. He’d given up eating real food when his wife died.

Brody tried to act casual. “Road crew found the body of a dead woman. The ME’s crew is collecting her now. Scene is being processed by county.”

Chet turned and took a step toward the woods.

Heart bleeding for his friend, Brody planted a hand in the center of Chet’s chest. “Don’t go back there.”

“I heard she’s young and has long dark hair.” Chet knew everyone in law enforcement and emergency response, from the clerk’s office to animal control. Someone had called him.

“It’s probably not her,” Brody said quietly. “But you don’t need to see. Don’t torture yourself.”

“Move your hand, Brody.” Chet spoke through clenched teeth. “If there’s any chance that woman is Teresa, I have to see her.”

But Brody held fast. “Please. Don’t do this.” Once Chet saw this woman, he would see her every time he closed his eyes.

Morgue attendants wheeled a stretcher through the grass toward the road. A black body bag was strapped to the gurney. Chet held up a hand to stop their movement.

Frank, walking next to the body, stepped up. “Are you sure? We have no proof it’s her.”

Chet nodded. “I need to see.”

“Brace yourself. Once this is in your head, you won’t be able to get it out.” Frank waited for Chet’s tight nod before he unzipped the bag. The crew had wrapped the body in a white sheet to preserve evidence. Frank peeled the sheet off the upper part of the body, leaving the unclothed lower half covered.

Chet flinched. His face went gray, and his lips mashed together until every drop of blood was forced out of them. His gaze fell to the “I Love NY” logo on the victim’s T-shirt, and the light in his eyes dimmed faster than taillights on a car speeding away in the darkness.