“Anything useful for identification from the skeletons themselves?” asked Evan.
“The teeth, of course,” said Dr. Peres. “But we need previous dental films to make a match. This set of remains shows an old, healed break at the medial end of the left radius. Right at its neck.” She picked up a bone and showed them. “It will be useful for whittling down the match possibilities.”
“What is this? It looks odd.” Noelle indicated several small crisscrossing grooves in the bone below the skull’s eye orbit.
“Teeth marks,” said Dr. Peres. “A rat or something similar.”
Noelle blanched and jerked her hand away.
Not liking the mental picture either, Evan glanced at the table with the other set of female remains. “One was buried on top of the other. How did you keep them from mixing together as you uncovered them?”
“By being extremely careful. Slow removal. Lots of record keeping as we went along.”
“Can you tell if they were buried at the same time?” asked Noelle.
“I believe they were not. There was a layer of soil between them. If they were buried at the same time, usually there is no dirt between them.”
“You’ve seen that?” asked Evan.
The doctor’s face lost all expression. “Yes,” she said shortly. “I’ve worked pits where a dozen bodies were thrown on top of each other before being buried.” She laid the radius back in its position on the table and gently straightened a few other bones, keeping her eyes averted.
Evan faintly recalled an article that mentioned the doctor had worked in war-ravaged foreign countries, helping identify the remains from mass murders.
Humans did horrible things to one another. Evan had seen more than enough.
The doctor had seen worse.
“Does anything indicate the cause of death?” asked Noelle, filling the awkward silence.
Dr. Peres shook her head. “Same as the child. No marks on the bones from stabbing or gunshot. No head trauma. This one’s hyoid is missing, along with several small bones from her hands and feet.” She looked at the other table. “That victim was on the bottom. Her hyoid is intact, but that doesn’t rule out strangulation. People can be strangled and the bone not broken. By itself, a broken one only indicates the possibility of strangulation, not a definite.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Evan. He’d known once the remains were found that it was possible they were related to either the old Jerry Chiavo murder cases or the three women who’d been murdered in the past few weeks. Or both.
In his gut he felt Chiavo was at the center of all the deaths somehow.
He and Noelle silently left the building.
“I need to call Rowan,” Evan said. “I wish I could confirm that this was Malcolm.”
“Her family has been suffering for twenty-five years,” said Noelle. “We all want to change that. Are you going to call her now?”
“Yes. From my car.”
I wish I had better news.
28
The homeowner watches me as she stands in the bathroom doorway, suspicion in her eyes. I get it. I need a haircut and my beard is rather scraggly. But my red shirt with its cheerful Sam’s Electric logo is clean, and so are my jeans.
I step back while the other electrician balances on the stepladder and lifts the light fixture to the ceiling. Liam has got this part under control and doesn’t need my help. We’ve done this dozens of times and have a routine. He’s been a competent trainer over the years.
I duck my head and look away, self-conscious because I made eye contact with her. I’m not here to interact with people. I’m here to do my job, and I’m good at it. I’ve learned a lot as an apprentice. Electricity makes sense to me. It’s logical. It acts like I expect it to. Not like people, who are completely unpredictable.
He’s got the fixture all wired and has moved the canopy into place against the ceiling. I hand up the bulbs, and he screws them in one by one. He nods to me, and I head to the garage to turn the breaker back on. I hit the switch and a moment later hear a happy “Oh, that looks great!” from the homeowner.
Another job well done.
I go back to the bathroom and start picking up. Then I sweep, vacuum, and wipe everything down, wanting it perfect for the customer. I take pride in not leaving any sign that work has been done. I never leave smudges or fingerprints or dust. I make it immaculate.
This was our last job for the day, and I have a strong need to be back home. I don’t like being away for too long. My anxiety level goes up, and I can’t relax. It feels like something is crawling under my skin even though I know it is just in my head. It feels dangerous to be out in public; home is safety.