Sharp shifted a curious gaze to Riley.
“Yes,” Dr. Kincaid said. “Results could take a week or two.”
Sharp frowned but didn’t comment as Dr. Kincaid continued her exterior examination, noting three more tattoos on the body: a heart below her belly button, a rose and vine at the base of her spine, and a star at her ankle.
When Dr. Kincaid moved to the top of the body, she reached toward an instrument table for a scalpel. The polished metal glistened in the light as the doctor, with little fanfare or warning, pressed the tip of the blade to the spot between the breasts and sliced downward over the belly and to the pubic bone.
Riley’s mouth watered as the doctor pulled back the flesh from the bone and inspected the tissue and internal organs. Nausea curled in the pit of her stomach, but she held her ground. Cops could be ruthless when they saw weakness, and the last damn thing she needed was to have it get around she’d lost her breakfast at her first autopsy in front of Dakota Sharp.
“You okay, Trooper?” Sharp asked.
“I’m fine.” From somewhere, she summoned a smile. “But you look a little green.”
He laughed. “Not me. Cast-iron stomach.”
She would not be sick. She would not. Biting the inside of her cheek, she allowed her mind to wander as it did when she was a kid, hiding in the shed behind her mother’s house, waiting for her stepfather to either sober up or pass out. She pictured a gentle breeze blowing and the sun on her face. If she could outwait William, she could handle the smells and sounds of an autopsy, which, by her way of thinking, wasn’t hurting a soul. As her heart slowed, she focused on evidence collection and facts. Learn what you can about the girl. It’s the only way you’re going to catch her killer.
“Heart, lungs, liver all look normal and healthy. She wasn’t pregnant.”
Ken reached for another set of X-rays. “Your victim did have a couple of broken ribs at one point in her life. They’ve healed. She also suffered fractures in her left arm. It’s a spiral fracture, suggesting someone may have twisted her arm.”
“The injuries could explain why she ran,” Riley said. “But doesn’t explain who got ahold of her after she arrived in the city. What about sexual assault?”
Sharp’s expression did not change, but he rolled his head from side to side, a habit she’d noticed him do at fatal car accidents.
“That’s next on the list.” Dr. Kincaid instructed Ken to stitch up the chest with dark thread.
The testing for rape was next. She knew basically what to expect, but the exam was the last indignity this girl would endure in her short and troubled life.
Sharp’s features were granite, but his fingers flexed once or twice.
“There’s presence of semen. I’ll need to test DNA to see if it’s from a single source or multiple sources. And there are no signs of vaginal tearing or trauma.”
Riley knew a DNA profile fed into the national database and could land her names of the men who had been with the girl before her death. But paying for sex with a young girl didn’t mean they were killers. And solving the death of a runaway girl would not land on the top of anyone’s priority list, so it could be months or years before a report surfaced.
When Dr. Kincaid completed the exam, Riley moved to the locker to strip off her gown. Her camisole and blouse were damp with sweat. A dull headache thudded at the base of her skull.
Dr. Kincaid tugged off her gloves and gown. “I’ve seen seasoned men drop like a sack of potatoes in here.”
Her deadpan tone had Riley raising her gaze, wondering if the doctor was making fun of her in her sweat-stained shirt. “I hold my own.”
Sharp stripped off his gown and gloves and tossed them in a waste bin. He pushed through the suite doors without a word.
Riley stared after him, wondering what she’d done wrong.
“You did fine,” the doctor offered. “These cases always bother Sharp.”
“They bother most cops.”
“He lost a sister a long time ago. She was only about eighteen when she died. It strikes close to home.”
“I didn’t know that.” Sharp was always short on the personal details.
“You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Understood.”
Out in the hallway she found Sharp waiting by the elevator, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and a lighter clutched in his hand. When the doors dinged open, neither spoke as they rode it up to the first floor and crossed the lobby.
Outside, Sharp cupped his hand around the end of his cigarette and lit up. He took a deep breath. “Fingerprints should help ID her, and we can put her picture on the evening news if you haven’t totally pissed off Eddie. I hear you’ve been dodging him.”
“Ah, Eddie loves me.”
“Like a splinter.”
She laughed. “He’ll get over it for a headline. If you need me to call him, I will.”
He drew in a deep lungful of air and held it for a beat before he let it out. “I’ll call you if it comes to that. I’m hoping information pops on the phone records or the fingerprints.”
“Thanks. I’d like to be kept in the loop on this case.” She pulled her shoulders back a fraction. “I saw that girl getting into Jax’s motor home a month ago. I got called away before I could ask any questions.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Five more minutes might have made the difference for her.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
She fished her phone out of her back pocket and checked the time. Three hours since the autopsy began. Hanna wouldn’t be home for two more hours, giving her time to hurry home, change, and walk Cooper. “Thanks, Sharp.”
Nodding, he inhaled again and turned and walked up the street.
Moving to her car, she drew fresh air into her lungs and slid behind the wheel. She sat for a moment, allowing the day’s heat to warm the chill from her body before she followed signs to I-95 north. Twenty minutes later she pulled into her driveway behind the 2000 VW Beetle she’d bought for Hanna. The car wasn’t much to look at, but it was dependable.
When she pushed through the front door, Cooper barked. In the kitchen, she opened his crate and rubbed his ears. “How you doing, Coop? Enjoy the afternoon off?”
He barked while wagging his tail.
“Hanna? Are you home early?”
For a moment there was only silence, and then, “It’s Wednesday. Half day of school, remember?”
She scratched Cooper between the ears. “Remind me why it’s a half day?”
“Teacher workday.”
“Right. Slipped my mind.” Juggling motherhood and work never got easy. “Not parent-teacher conferences, right?”
“You didn’t miss anything.”
“Good.”
The girl rounded the corner, her long hair tied up in a thick ponytail that brushed her shoulders. “You’re getting old.”
Riley unhooked her sidearm and set it on top of the refrigerator. “Careful, brat. I’m still spry enough to take you.”
Hanna laughed. “No way.”
Riley shrugged off her jacket. “I’m taking Cooper for a run. Care to join us?”
Hanna scrunched her face. “Your workouts are too intense.”
“For an old lady, you mean?”
“Right.”
Riley changed into jogging shorts, a sports top, and running shoes, and ten minutes later she and Cooper were running toward the local park, which was a mile from her house. Her muscles were still stiff and cumbersome from Monday’s outing. Cooper moved easily, showing no signs of stress after the hike. She kicked up her pace and ten minutes into the run her legs loosened up.
As she approached the back entrance of the park a dark car drove up behind her, slowing its pace to a near crawl. She slowed and glanced at the vehicle while noting the tinted windows. Instinctively, her hand went to her waist and to the sidearm that wasn’t there. “What the hell are you looking at, pal?”
Cooper, detecting the
tension in her tone, looked up, his ears perked.
As she spoke, the car picked up speed and turned at the next corner, vanishing. Most wouldn’t have given the car a second thought, and maybe she wouldn’t have either, but the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Stopping, she drew in a steady breath, watching the corner in case the car returned. Cooper looked up at her, as if waiting for an order.
When the car didn’t double back, she shook off her apprehension and tugged on Cooper’s line. “It’s good, boy. Let’s train.” They ran along the small dirt path and into the woods until they found the trail. Memories of the young girl robbed of her life and lying on the medical examiner’s table crowded out the car. She owed that kid. “I’ll figure it out.”
By the time she and Cooper burst out of the woods forty-five minutes later, she was covered in dirt and sweat. Cooper was barely panting.
As she pushed through the back door of the kitchen, she smelled chili. “Did Duke send home food, Hanna?”
“He just dropped it off before you got home. He said he made too much.”
“Lucky for us.” She unleashed the dog and filled his water bowl only partway. She watched as he lapped but pulled the bowl before he had his fill. After hard training, too much water could bloat a big dog’s stomach and twist the gut, which was potentially fatal. The dog settled on his bed in the corner. “You have triathlon practice tonight, right?”