Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(15)

Okay, maybe not happily, but at least contentedly. The last relationship she’d been in had turned her life inside out, and she didn’t want another for the foreseeable future.

Sara bent over the bones again and examined the surfaces for any signs of trauma. There were plenty of fractures, but they were consistent with what she’d expect if an inert body was dropped from an elevation. She paid specific attention to the neck bones. A slight nick on the C4 vertebra piqued her interest.

Sara lifted the bone for closer examination. Then she took out a slide and secured the bone with a dab of putty. Turning on her microscope, she placed the slide on the stage and peered through the viewfinder.

A small mark was visible on the anterior surface of C4. But was it a postmortem artifact created by a scavenger? Or was it man-made? The lab’s tool-marks examiner could probably tell her. But he wasn’t here today, so she’d have to wait.

Sara switched off the microscope and returned to the table with her clipboard. She studied the pelvis, the joints, and the teeth, scribbling notes as she went. She’d promised Nolan an update on the Big Four, and she had a feeling he’d hold her to that.

Nolan Hess.

Detective Hess.

Like so many other cops she’d worked with, he had a strong, confident way about him that bordered on arrogance. Sara didn’t mind, really. She liked assertive people, male or female. But along with his confidence, Nolan had something else she’d noticed.

Empathy.

She’d seen it in his eyes when he talked about Kaylin’s family. She’d heard it in his voice when he pressured her to speed up her work so he could get them some answers. In Sara’s dealings with cops, empathy was much rarer than confidence. It couldn’t be learned. It came from the heart. Sara suspected it was one of the many things that made Nolan good at his job.

After making notes about age, sex, race, and stature, Sara got to a trickier question, postmortem interval. She could ballpark it based on the bones, but to get Nolan something specific—she hoped—she needed to consult some weather charts.

Sara turned to the table containing the assorted items that had been recovered with the bones. Everything had been sorted into flat cardboard trays, and Sara studied the contents: fabric remnants, three plastic buttons, the white sandal whose mate hadn’t been found. Perhaps the most important item was a silver loop earring. Sara had swabbed it for DNA before placing it in a little plastic bag. The earring was small—less than two centimeters—but might be a big lead for investigators in terms of getting an ID. A photo of the earring would be uploaded to NamUs, along with everything else, in hopes of connecting the remains to an unsolved case.

When Sara was all out of distractions, she turned her attention to the last cardboard tray. It contained a tangle of purple twine that had been found near the wrist bones.

Sara stared down at the twine. Thinking about it had kept her up half the night, tossing and turning. Now, using a pair of bamboo tongs, she picked up the tangle, which was knotted in the shape of a figure eight. The twine was caked with dirt, and the ends were frayed. After carefully unearthing it at the gravesite, Sara had studied it, photographed it from every angle, and swabbed it for DNA. The twine might be key to the entire case.

Or it might not. Maybe she was doing what she’d warned Nolan about, which was jumping to conclusions with insufficient evidence.

The phone rang, jolting Sara from her thoughts. She abandoned the trays and rushed to the lab line.

“Osteology.”

“Sara.”

The familiar voice filled her with relief. But her relief quickly turned to apprehension.

“Cliff, hi. Thank you so much for getting back to me.” She paused. “Did you have a chance to look at the photos?”

“Yes.”

That one word put a knot in her stomach. Clifton Underwood was her mentor, and she knew him well. He was about to confirm her worst fears.

“I examined your photographs, all eight of them.”

“And?” She held her breath.

“As you can imagine, I found them rather alarming.”

? ? ?

Talia caught sight of Nolan the second he stepped into the bull pen. He looked to be in a hurry, and she got up from her desk and walked over. He stood beside his chair, combing through a stack of reports.

“Can’t talk right now,” he said, not looking up. “I’m on my way out.”

“Kathy Baird is here asking for you.”

“Shit.” He looked over her shoulder at the waiting room. He’d come in the back entrance, probably to avoid getting sidetracked talking to anyone.

“Joanne put her in Interview Two.”

Nolan raked a hand through his hair, then checked his watch.

“Want me to send her away?” she asked.

He glanced at the interview room. “No. I’ll talk to her.”

Talia watched him, impressed that he didn’t try to duck the meeting. That wasn’t Nolan’s way. He confronted things head-on, which was one reason she was glad he’d been her training officer ever since she earned her detective’s shield and was promoted to the Crimes Against Persons Squad.

“Mind if I sit in?” she asked. Talking to families who had lost a loved one was one of the hardest parts of the job. “I want to see how you handle it.”

“Suit yourself.” He checked his watch one more time and then finger-combed his hair as he strode across the bull pen to the interview room, where the door stood ajar.