The Last Sister (Columbia River)(51)

“Females are better at seeing consequences,” Ava muttered. “Even as kids. You men do stupid, risky things.”

Zander couldn’t argue with that.

Seth peeled back the flaps of skin and muscles at the Y incision, exposing the rib cage. He took the large pruning shears from his assistant and started cutting ribs far under the flaps. The first sounds rattled Zander; they always did. But by the fourth cut, he was inured to the loud cracks. When Seth finished, he lifted out the front half of the rib cage.

Ava sucked in a breath.

“You good?” he whispered.

“Good as I can be.”

Next Seth systematically removed each organ, scrutinized it, weighed it, sliced it open for further scrutiny, and cut samples for testing and preservation. A recorder hung above Seth’s head to catch his observations, but an assistant also took notes.

Zander watched closely as Seth cut open the stomach. “I can smell alcohol. Smells like beer,” the examiner said. “There’s no solids in here, but there is some fluid. I suspect most had already passed to the small intestine.”

“Dr. Ruiz put his time of death at midmorning,” Ava said.

“This isn’t the first person I’ve opened who had beer for breakfast. It’s more common than you think.”

Even with a mask covering it, Zander saw Ava wrinkle her nose. “A mimosa for breakfast I can understand, but not beer,” she said.

“Why not? Who decided champagne was acceptable in the mornings but not beer?” Seth shrugged as he set the stomach on the scale. “They’re both alcohol. I’ve gained a different perspective on a lot of things in this job.”

“Do you have beer for breakfast?” Ava asked the examiner.

“Nope. Sounds disgusting.”

Ava snorted. “So there’s a good chance the GHB was in the beer.”

“I’ll have the fluids from his stomach tested,” said Seth.

“I don’t think any open beer bottles were found at the Copeland scene,” said Ava. “I’ll check with the team.”

Zander wanted the autopsy to be over, ready to follow up on what they’d just learned.

The doctor quickly sped through the rest of the organs and turned his attention to the head. He leaned close and palpated the skull with gentle hands. Zander wondered how he’d cut a cranial cap under the scalp when a large portion of the skull was missing. The primary concern was the presentation for an open-casket viewing.

“His parents have agreed to a closed-casket funeral,” Seth said softly. “But I’ll do what I can for their personal viewing. It shouldn’t be too bad with a deep pillow.”

Zander stepped in for a closer look. Typically the medical examiner cut through the scalp around the back of the head from ear to ear, then peeled the scalp forward over the face, leaving it attached to the forehead. Next they would cut out a large piece of the skull to gain access to and remove the brain. After removing the brain, the examiner would replace the cranial cap like a puzzle piece and return the scalp to its former position, stitching it in place under the hair, making it acceptable for an open casket.

The issue with Copeland was the damage at the back from the exit wound. The skull could break into several pieces as Dr. Rutledge worked and never look quite right for his parents’ final viewing.

“Let’s see how the bone looks and figure it out from there,” Seth said to himself. His assistant lifted the head, and Seth used his scalpel to make a cut around the back of the head and then worked the scalp forward. Seth’s gloved fingers showed through the hole in the scalp left by the bullet.

Once exposed, the bullet’s damage to the skull was brutally clear. “Big one,” Seth said under his breath.

“He carried a G 21,” Zander told him. “A .45 round.”

The bullet’s impact had created a star pattern of cracks that led away from the large exit wound. “If I cut the cap a little lower than usual, I can avoid crossing the cracks, and I believe the cranial cap will stay in one piece.” Seth nodded firmly, confident in his decision, and picked up the Stryker saw.

The saw wasn’t much larger than Zander’s drill at home, but the Stryker’s sound reminded him of a dentist’s drill cutting into his tooth and reverberating through his head. He stepped away as a cloud of fine bone dust bloomed.

Beer. Zander found that odd. Nate Copeland had beer early in the day when he was already planning to go drink more with his friend? Was he getting an early start, or had he been entertaining someone else?

Ava tugged his sleeve. “You’re glaring. What are you thinking about?” she said loudly to be heard over the saw.

“I want to know who drank beer with Nate Copeland in the morning.”

“You’re not the only one.” She watched the doctor move to the other side of Copeland’s head for a new angle. “Where was Billy Osburne yesterday morning?”

“His shift at the auto parts store didn’t start until noon.”

“So he was available. Is he someone Nate would have a beer with? Did he have motive?” Ava questioned.

“The Osburnes are about ten years older than Nate,” Zander said. “But I don’t know if that means they wouldn’t hang out together. We can find out if they knew each other enough to have a morning beer.”