“They live in Michigan now.” Leila shrugged and added, “From what I’ve heard.”
“Which house did they live in?” Amanda asked, and Leila flicked a finger down the street and described the house. “Okay, thank you for your time.” Amanda turned back toward the department car, and as she and Trent were walking away, the Fosters were in a heated conversation with arms flailing wildly in the air. It ended with a slammed door in Henry’s face at about the same time Amanda and Trent got into their vehicle.
“They obviously hate each other,” Trent said as he pulled out of the driveway.
“There’s a lot of rage, that’s for sure. And blame.”
“What made you think that Crystal ran away with a friend?”
She thought she’d explained it already, bu
t she’d elaborate anyhow. “Crystal was thirteen. She could have run away alone, sure, but her father mentioned that she was involved with the wrong crowd at school. She got pulled in for smoking weed. These kids probably also felt like they were on the outskirts of society for some reason, not understood. I just don’t see Crystal leaving solo. She was looking for someplace to belong.”
She gestured toward the dash. It was going on eleven thirty. It would take them an hour to get from Washington to Manassas for Fox’s autopsy, but they had a little time. “Just pull over, and let’s see if we can find the Lynches in the system.”
Trent parked at the curb and keyed into the onboard laptop. “The Lynches, Hugh and Sabrina, and, yep, I’ve got a Michigan address.”
“Pull up Missing Persons. Search Ashley Lynch.” She could hardly wait for Trent to do that and for the results.
“She’s here all right. Thirteen at the time, and the report was filed within a couple of days of the one the Fosters submitted on Crystal.”
“The time it took the Lynches to know their daughter was missing and not just at a friend’s for a sleepover,” Amanda concluded. “Is there a picture?” She leaned over to get a better view of the screen. Trent angled it more toward her.
Staring back at her was a younger version of their Jane Doe. It was in the eyes and unmistakable. “It’s her.” She sank deep into her seat. She thought that once she had a name, there’d be a level of relief, but it only made her feel more determined to find the girl justice. “We need to get on the road, but when we finish up at Fox’s autopsy, we’ll dig into Ashley’s Missing Persons report and see what the investigating detective had to say. Then we’ll go from there.”
After the situation with the Fosters, there was no way she’d be reaching out to the Lynches until she was absolutely positive the body of the young woman lying in the morgue was indeed their daughter.
Twenty-Eight
Amanda and Trent stepped into the morgue and found Paula Jeffery in a smock, wearing a helmet—the face shield down—and a bone saw in hand.
“You started without us.” Not a question. If Jeffery was getting ready to cut, she’d already conducted an external examination. Amanda was appalled. An ME of Jeffery’s experience would know that detectives preferred to be present from the very start of an autopsy. This was just one more indication that Jeffery thought herself above law enforcement.
The ME gestured a hand toward a clock on the wall that was housed behind a metal cage. “You are late.”
Amanda read the time. “You said you’d be starting at one. It’s five minutes after.” They’d grabbed a quick bite to eat, but then ran into an accident on the highway that had resulted in lane closures, delaying them.
“Yes. Late.” Jeffery pursed her lips.
“What have you already found out?” Amanda went the diplomatic route. The ME would have started earlier than one to be at this stage of the autopsy, but accusing her wouldn’t do Amanda or Trent any favors.
Jeffery lifted the face shield and set the saw aside. “I scraped under the deceased’s fingernails and found epithelia.”
“I want that fast-tracked at the lab.” If it went through the process and garnered a hit, they could be reaching the finish line faster than expected.
“Yes, it is all a priority,” Jeffery said drily, and Amanda wasn’t sure if she was being snide and sarcastic or serious. The ME added, “And it only helps if the killer is in the system. However, if the skin cells are from her killer, he would probably have obvious scratches on his face, neck, arms, or hands. Think any possible exposed skin. That could help you ID him. Well, once you find him.” The ME opened Fox’s jaw. “I also took a close look at the mutilation. The edge is clean, not jagged.”
“So the killer didn’t hesitate?” Trent asked.
“It could also mean that the victim didn’t fight the killer while he was cutting out her tongue.”
Amanda leaned a little closer to the body. “Then she was dead at that time?”
“No,” Jeffery dragged out. “You may recall me saying at the scene that, given the amount of blood loss, her heart would have been pumping. No doubt in my mind she was alive.”
“Then, she was given a type of paralytic,” Amanda concluded.
“Not necessarily, but something that would have subdued her.”