Bree could see the shoulder wound just above the Y-incision.
The ME continued. “None of these wounds would have been immediately fatal. They bled heavily but were survivable. Without treatment, though, he would have bled out over time.”
“But he didn’t have the chance,” Matt said.
“No,” the ME said. “I haven’t gotten to the skull yet, but there’s little doubt that the bullet to the forehead was the fatal shot. The body wounds have a slight downward trajectory, so the killer was standing in front of the victim when they pulled the trigger. I was able to recover the bullet from the shoulder wound.” She motioned toward a shallow stainless-steel dish. The bloody bullet in the dish was in good condition, only slightly misshapen from its path through Oscar’s shoulder. If they found the murder weapon, they should be able to make a ballistics match. “It’s a 9mm.”
Oscar’s personal handgun had been a 9mm, Bree remembered.
Dr. Jones continued. “I estimate the body shots were midrange, fired from several feet away, but the head shot is a contact wound.”
Bree focused on the hole in Oscar’s forehead. The skin around it was blackened, charred.
“You can see the seared skin and soot around the wound.” Dr. Jones hesitated. “When a gun is pressed hard against the skin when it’s fired, all the materials—gases, soot, et cetera—discharged from the weapon become embedded in the skin.”
“So the killer didn’t just put the gun to his head,” Matt said. “They pressed on it, hard.”
“Yes,” Dr. Jones agreed. “From a cursory look at the second victim’s head wound, it also appears to be a contact wound. I’ll let you know if his mother’s autopsy yields any additional evidence.” She turned back to her work.
“What about the ropes used to bind the victims?” Matt asked.
“Removed intact and collected by forensics.” The ME reached for the electric saw that would cut through Oscar’s skull. “Check with Rory in forensics. He’s more than a computer tech. He knows all about knots too.”
In a rural county, anyone who could do double duty was especially useful.
“Thank you.” Bree turned to leave the suite as the sound of the saw changed as it cut through bone.
They pushed through the swinging door. As soon as they hit the antechamber, they stripped off their PPE and tossed it in the appropriate bins. For absolutely no reason—she’d been wearing gloves—Bree washed her hands.
“The Glock registered to Oscar is a 9mm, and we didn’t find it in the house,” Matt noted. “It’s possible he could have been killed with his own weapon.”
“He wasn’t wearing a holster. Either he had it in his hand or whoever shot him knew where he kept it.”
“We didn’t find a gun safe in the house either.”
“9mm is a very common caliber, though,” Bree said. “It could be coincidence.”
“Then where’s Oscar’s weapon?” Matt asked.
Bree didn’t have an answer.
“Also, pressing the gun hard to Oscar’s head and pulling the trigger makes me think the killer was angry. That could make the motive personal.”
“It’s possible,” Bree said. “But the ME said the kill shot to Camilla was the same. Maybe the killer was just angry in general.”
“They weren’t messing around,” Matt said.
Bree pictured a faceless killer approaching two bound victims. She saw the killer walk close, press the muzzle into Oscar’s forehead, and pull the trigger. “I see a second option for the deliberation: cold-bloodedness.”
“Ironically, that’s on the other end of the emotional spectrum,” Matt said. “Let’s check ViCAP and NCIC for similar crimes in case the killer has done this before.” The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program and National Crime Information Center were crime databases available to law enforcement.
“Yes,” Bree said. “Also, Oscar was tortured, which could mean someone was trying to extract information.”
“Or they were just really pissed off,” Matt finished. “And punishing him.”
“All possibilities,” Bree said. “Let’s go see Rory.”
The county forensics lab was in the same building as the medical examiner’s office. They made their way down a maze of corridors to the lab, which was almost as cold as the autopsy suite. They found the tech in a large room lined with stainless-steel tables. He was bent over a laptop that appeared to be the one taken from Oscar’s room. He looked up as they entered.