Web of Secrets (Agents Under Fire) (13 page)

Attagirl
, Connor thought and resisted giving Becca a fist pump for standing up to Yates. He did smile at her, though, and the corner of her mouth tipped up in satisfaction.

“Okay, let’s get busy assigning all the items Agent Lange suggested.” Vance was clearly impressed. “And maybe along the way, we’ll catch ourselves a killer.”

“I WON’T BE LEFT OUT here to wait.” Taylor planted her hands on her hips and stared at Jack.

He quirked a tight smile. “Don’t see as you have any choice in the matter.”

“Why? What are you hiding in there?” She tipped her head at the closed door behind him.

“Not hiding a thing, but no one from the outside is allowed in the lab. I’m sure you can understand that.” He said it in a way that insinuated she wasn’t too bright.

“I get it. But that also means once you turn over the evidence, you won’t be hanging out in the lab either.”

He arched a brow, looking like a marauding pirate. “I’m giving a weapons seminar. Not something you’d be interested in sitting through. You’d likely fidget, squirm all over in boredom, and end up distracting me.”

“I’d find your weapons seminar quite interesting.”

“It’s for seasoned shooters.”

“I’m seasoned.”

“At your age?” He rolled his eyes. “A princess like you? Give me a break.”

She curled her fingers into a fist. “I’m older than I look, and I’m no princess.”

He just kept staring at her, and she glanced around, looking for a solution. She caught sight of his handgun, a tricked-out Kimber 1911 Custom II. An idea formed.

“Tell you what.” She tried to keep the excitement from her voice. “I’ll prove my abilities. Give me your handgun. I’ll field strip and reassemble it in whatever timeframe you give me. If I don’t meet your goal, then I’ll sit out here. If I do meet it, you let me sit in on the seminar.”

“My timeframe, huh?”

She nodded. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He stuck out his hand.

She grasped it, and as she connected, a jolt of something fired in her belly. Stunned, she forgot to move . . . or breathe.

“Hope your gun skills are better than your wimpy handshake.” He turned and pressed his thumb on a biometric reader that scanned it and unlocked the door. “Wait here while I deliver the evidence. Then I’ll come back for you.”

“Ha! Like I trust you to come back.”

“I always keep my word, Taylor.” His steely gaze scared her as much as it thrilled her. “If I say I’ll be back, I’ll be back.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take the evidence to my friend so she can get started.”

Taylor didn’t know if she was being played, but for some reason, she believed him to be a man of his word. She gave him the can, then regretted it the moment it left her hands. He had to know he was good-looking. Maybe this whole unapproachable vibe was his way of garnering a woman’s interest. At least, it was working on her. She couldn’t resist a good challenge, and he certainly was that. He wore no ring, so she suspected he was single. Not that she was interested in a relationship while trying to establish herself in the new job, but she’d grudgingly admit she was interested in finding out what made the man tick.

She sat in a stiff chair and composed a text to Becca.
Waiting for the DNA results. This Jack guy is something else.

Becca replied quickly
. Cut him some slack. He’s hard to get to know, but he’s one of the most ethical and compassionate men I know.

Taylor texted back.
Hard to get to know, right! Try impossible.

The door swung open, and he filled the doorway.

“We’ll have the results in a few hours.” He gestured over his shoulder. “First door on your left.”

She stepped past him, taking in everything in sight. The place was minimal in décor, but tight on security. Another biometric reader led to a windowless room. Jack opened the door, and she stepped into a conference room that resembled a bunker with more weapons mounted on the walls than she’d ever seen in one place. Rifles, automatics, semis. Pistols of every variety and make. Even a rocket launcher.

She let out a low whistle. “Now I see why you have all the security.”

“Wouldn’t do for someone to break in.”

“But I don’t get how you’re connected to the lab.”

“They require a similar level of security, so I lease a space with them. It’s worked great for us both for the last few years.”

“You’re not actually associated with the lab, then?”

He shook his head. “Just on friendly terms with the owner. She’s an old friend.”

Friendly terms,
Taylor thought. He was a fine-looking man, but unless he had charms that she didn’t see, his association with the lab owner was likely professional. Taylor hated to admit it, but she liked thinking he might not be in a relationship.

“Okay, the test.” He picked up a cleaning mat and spread it out on the table, then snapped his Kimber from his holster and ejected the magazine. He grabbed an empty magazine, inserted it, and laid the weapon on the padded mat.

“You have ninety seconds.” He looked at her with amusement.

He expected her to fail. Of course he did. A Kimber wasn’t as common as a Glock or Colt. And it was more difficult to disassemble. He probably expected her not to realize that the spring was under tension, figuring she’d make the novice mistake of letting it fly, but she wouldn’t. She wasn’t a novice by any means, and the Kimber 1911 was one of her dad’s favorites.

She picked up the gun and pretended to look it over as if she didn’t know what she was doing. It was a mean thing to do, but he was trying to play her and she intended to return the favor. She hadn’t told Jack that her father owned a gun range, or that she’d been raised around a variety of weapons. Her dad had always wanted a son, but got her instead. If she’d wanted to spend any time with him, she had to learn to love guns, too. His idea of fun was the field test he’d designed using his former military training. She’d taken his test so many times with a wide variety of guns, that she could take apart and reassemble many of them with her eyes closed.

She hefted the gun in her hands, getting the feel of the amazing weapon. “Ninety seconds, huh? You sure you don’t want me to close my eyes, too?”

He raised a brow. “I’m good with the conditions, but I admire your spunk.”

His compliment slid over her like a warm blanket, and she totally got lost in eyes that had warmed to a cool gray.

“Ready,” he asked, holding out his wrist to study his black diver’s watch.

She shifted the weapon into her left hand and banished thoughts of anything but the gun from her brain.

“Start,” he snapped out like a starting gun.

She ejected the magazine and pulled back the lever to make sure no bullet remained in the chamber, then went on autopilot disassembling the gun. She laid the seven pieces on the mat in military order as her dad had drilled into her.

“There, field stripped and ready to reassemble,” she said as she reversed her actions. Once reassembled, she inserted the empty magazine, cycled the slide, and pulled the trigger.

“Time,” she called out.

“Fifty-five seconds.” Jack stood staring at her, admiration burning in his eyes. “You’ve obviously had weapons training. I can tell you’re not military, but you laid down the pieces in military order. ”

“My dad’s a former Marine. He owns a gun range, and I was the boy he always wanted. I entered shooting competitions almost as soon as I could walk.” She laughed.

“You might have mentioned that before we struck a deal.” Humor lightened his deep voice.

“And you might not have jumped to the conclusion that, because I’m a woman, I don’t have much knowledge of guns beyond Bureau-issued weapons.”

“Touché.” His smile widened, proving how irresistibly handsome he was. “You may look all soft and feminine, but I promise I won’t underestimate you again.”

She hated that he admitted to letting her looks sway his judgment. Even in today’s world, she faced sexism on the job. But sexist or not, she liked seeing the warmth in his eyes when he let his gaze glide down her body and back up. Too bad she wasn’t going to work with him for long. Life could get mighty interesting.

Chapter Fourteen

THIS HILL WAS EVEN harder the second day. Becca figured it was because she knew what awaited her at the top, or maybe because she hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Regardless, she tried not to show her fatigue as she trudged up the path alongside Connor, but her breathing had been labored for the last few minutes. Not Connor’s, though. He strolled on as if he’d stepped out for a walk down the block. They both regularly worked out and were in great shape, and yet, she was the only one the hike left breathless.

“Hold up.” She lowered the hood on her raincoat to get some fresh air on her sweaty head. “I need to catch my breath.”

He stopped and turned, that usual adorable smile on his face. He wore only a PPB windbreaker, no hood, and his hair was damp from the constant drizzle.

“Can’t keep up with such a fine specimen, huh?” He winked at her.

Despite their grim task, she smiled back and felt a bit of her burden lift. “I know when I’m beaten.”

“Ha!” he said and laughed again. “I’ve never once heard you admit defeat.”

He was right. She didn’t accept defeat. Never had and probably never would again. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out to enjoy the carefree life.

She turned her thoughts back to their task at hand—figuring out how a current-day Van Gogh had managed to trudge up the path, a dead girl over his shoulder.

She just couldn’t see it. “I keep thinking about carrying another hundred pounds or so on my back. I don’t think I could do it. Van Gogh wasn’t in great physical shape in the nineties.”

“So, do you think he killed the girls here?”

“No.” She shook her head firmly.

“You seem certain.”

“I believe he killed them in his basement lair like he did in the nineties. The table was set up like an altar and was saturated with blood. The floor, too. It was stained with it.” The memories of the rusty-red table came flooding back, and she looked away before Connor saw her angst.

“Sounds like you’ve pored over these case files so much, you can imagine yourself in this scene.”

She didn’t respond. After all, anything she said would be an outright lie, and she’d been careful not to lie when talking about herself as Lauren—at times answering questions with questions of her own to avoid it. “How about dragging the bodies or using a wheeled device of some sort? Like a wheeled garbage can. He could pull that up the hill and stop to rest along the way. If he was dressed like a city worker, anyone he ran in to would simply think he was just cleaning up trash.”

“Maybe, but we found no signs of such a trek.”

“True, but the rain could have washed everything away.” She paused and thought about it more. “I can’t see him coming up here in the daylight, either. Not with the scars on his face. People could freak out and report him.”

“So he probably brought them up here at night. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help us narrow down how he did it. Dane’s combed every inch of this trail, but I’ll get him to do it again.” He studied her for a moment. “Ready to go, or should I send someone down here to help you up the trail?”

“You’re so funny.” She lifted her hood and stepped past him.

He came rushing up from behind and walked beside her when his longer strides could have easily taken him into the lead again. “I’ll stay by your side in case you need help.”

His crooked grin with a single dimple had always been her undoing, and it drew a smile from her. If he could get her to smile under such dire circumstances, she could see how he could lighten up her life on a day-to-day basis.

When they arrived at the clearing, Becca’s breathing was strained, but not stressed. Still, she paused to take in the entire scene now that she was aware of exactly what she was looking at. A thin, uniformed officer stood sentry at the edge of the path, looking bored. Connor nodded at him, and he acknowledged it with a quick nod of his own.

She peered past the officer to where they’d found Jane Doe yesterday. Her body had been removed, but yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area, fluttering in the breeze, and a white canopy stood overhead. At least today the wind didn’t carry the nauseating scent of death, but Becca was wise enough to expect lingering smells from body fluids when they got closer.

From this distance, she couldn’t tell if the other three cordoned-off graves were empty. They each had a large tent covering them. A woman, with short gray hair and wearing army-green rain gear hunkered over the first grave. Dane stood at her side, his camera out, and he was busily clicking away. Three younger workers were scattered at the other graves and appeared to be digging.

“C’mon,” Connor said. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Williams.”

He lifted the crime-scene tape, and they scooted under it. They passed the first grave with flies swarming around it.

Connor stopped outside the canopy. “Dr. Williams,” he called out.

The woman looked up and shoved damp bangs from her forehead. Her face was thin, her features sharp, but she had a pleasant smile that made her seem very human, something that made what they were dealing with a little easier to take. “Detective. Good. I was just about to call you.”

“I see you’ve made progress on all three bodies.”

She got to her feet, clutching her lower back as she moved. “I’m getting too old to do this.” She tipped her head at the other workers. “I’d let my grad students do all the work, but I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust myself.” She laughed and crossed over to them.

Connor made quick introductions, and Dr. Williams simply nodded her acknowledgement to Becca.

“So you’ve found something?” Connor asked.

“Yes, but before we start, I need to explain the identification system we have put in place so we all know which girl we’re discussing. We’ve ordered the girls in number by the location of their grave. Jane Doe One is the girl Marcie has taken back to the morgue.” She looked down at her feet. “This girl is Jane Doe Two, the next Three, and the final Four.” She looked back up at them. “Are we clear?”

They nodded.

“Okay, then we’ll start with Three.” She clomped across the grass to the closest body. Her bright red rubber boots covered with thick clay soil made sucking noises on the moist soil. “Okay, kids, move out of the way for a minute.”

Two women Becca guessed to be about her own age scrambled away from the body.

“Come in closer.” Dr. Williams curled a finger. “The bones won’t bite you.”

Becca liked the woman’s no-nonsense approach, but she didn’t feel as if Dr. Williams thought of these bones as sweet teenage girls whose final hours must have been absolutely horrific. She moved to the left side and gestured for Becca and Connor to take the right. Becca looked into the shallow grave and saw exactly what she’d expected to see. A small skeleton, a stained white nightgown lifted up to the chest.

“Have either of you worked on a dig like this before?’

They both shook their heads.

“Then I’ll be sure to explain my findings. First, let me say, the skeletons are intact and unless your killer is an expert at placing bones, the bodies were buried while still quite fresh. Additionally, I can tell you all three girls were around age fifteen and Caucasian.”

It was what Becca had expected to hear, but still, her knees felt weak.

“No cause and time of death?” Connor asked.

“Ha!” she laughed. “Just like you detectives. Give me the cause of death and the postmortem interval and do it yesterday.”

Connor’s face morphed into a sheepish look, but he remained quiet.

“By the way, cause of death is officially Marcie’s job,” Dr. Williams said, referring to the medical examiner.

Connor looked surprised. “Then why isn’t Marcie here with you?”

“She was, actually. But once we uncovered enough of the skeletons to determine there was no soft tissue left on the bones, she turned the girls over to me.”

“How and when they died is critical to finding the killer,” Becca said, more out of frustration than anything.

Dr. Williams appraised her. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and give you the information you need right now, but we’ll get there. You’ll just have to be patient.”

Patient. Right. While Van Gogh ran around killing girls. Becca bit her tongue to keep from voicing her thoughts.

Dr. Williams squatted and peered at the body. Becca could see the heartache in the woman’s eyes. She really did care about this girl, which somehow made this terrible death more bearable. “I assure you, I’ll give this my all and provide you with as much information as I can, but it’s going to take time to get these girls back to my lab and look at each and every bone for the kind of trauma that might give us a manner of death.”

“You said they were all girls around fifteen,” Becca stated.

“Yes. That’s right. Let me explain my findings.” She knelt by the pelvis. “I can say with certainty the wide girth here”—with gloved fingers, she pointed at the large pelvic opening—“suggests this is a female, and the lack of parturition pits tell me she has not borne a child.” She scooted up to the skull and pointed at the forehead. “The more globular forehead, rather than a sloping forehead and brow ridge, further confirm this is a female.” She gestured at the area where the nose would be located. “The narrow nasal root and bridge, and narrow face also tell me she’s Caucasian.”

She sat back on her haunches and looked up. “Now. The age. That’s a bit more complicated. We classify bodies in three broad categories. Very young, teen, and adult. Bone growth places a body in one of these categories. There are primary and secondary areas of bone growth that continue until the secondary areas fuse to the primary area and all growth ceases.”

“And that helps you how?” Connor asked, putting voice to the impatience burning in Becca’s gut.

“Studies over the years have given us approximate ages at which the bones fuse. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, after examining a variety of bones, I put this girl around fifteen.”

“Any way to tell how long she’s been here?” Becca asked.

“Hopefully, but it’s going to take a bit more time. I can give you a general idea, though.” She stood and nodded to the side. “Let’s head over to Jane Four, and I’ll explain.”

She took a few steps then glanced back at her students. “What are you waiting for? I want this girl out of here by nightfall.”

When they reached Four, Dr. Williams faced them. “The soil around the body can tell us a lot about when and how each girl died. Bodies leak fatty acids into the ground as they decompose. The profiles of these acids vary over time, so analyzing them can show how long she’s been dead and how long she’s been buried.”

Dr. Williams stopped to stare down on the girl for a moment, her expression one of sadness mixed with anger. She shook off whatever she was thinking and started again. “We also know a body buried two feet underground, as these girls were, will take about six months to skeletonize. However, a body will skeletonize faster if it is buried in acidic ground, and pine forest soils are highly acidic. This variable means my initial estimate could be off, but at a minimum, I’d say they’ve all been here for about six months. I can’t be more exact than that until the soil is evaluated, but I can tell you one thing for sure—this girl has been here the longest.”

“But not sixteen years,” Becca said, trying to keep her tone level.

“No, definitely not that long.”

Connor shared a smile with Becca and she let out a sigh of relief that Molly wasn’t buried in one of these graves.

Thank you, God!

Dr. Williams knelt near the ribcage and looked up at them. “When bodies first decay, they are quite toxic to plant life in the area, but then they serve as excellent fertilizer and attract plant roots. Notice the roots from the nearby shrub have grown and intertwined in the rib cage of this girl. There’s not a heavy mass of roots to suggest she’s been here for a long time, but still, it’s been long enough for the roots to grow a few feet.”

“I didn’t notice any roots near the other girls at all,” Becca said.

“Exactly. That’s why I believe Four has been buried the longest.” She paused. “But let me caution you. This could simply be a moister patch of ground and the roots were looking for water.”

Connor stepped closer and looked down at the grave. “Does your dig indicate that?”

“No.”

“But you still can’t say how long any of them have been buried?” Connor clarified.

“I’m sorry. I know it would help if you had a narrow window, but all I can say, at this point, is that I’d start looking for girls who have been reported missing about six months ago. But again, it could be less because of the acidic soil and I’ll—”

“Know more when the soil is analyzed,” Connor interrupted.

“Exactly.”

“I’ve never dealt with anything like this and had no idea how complicated it could be.” Connor suddenly smiled. “I’ll admit to watching
Bones
, and I know the show isn’t accurate, but . . .” He shrugged.

Dr. Williams sighed. “Real life is rarely like they portray on those shows.”

“Then how do you determine the cause of death?” Becca asked.

“Manner,” Dr. Williams corrected. “It’s often in the bones. Bone trauma is a moment frozen in time. While the rest of the body decomposes, the bones remain, and we can search them for trauma that will provide clues, such as a gunshot wound, stabbing, etc.”

“And positively identifying these girls?” Becca asked. “With no clue as to who they are, dental records won’t be of help. And they obviously don’t have fingerprints.”

“I’m glad you asked.” Dr. Williams smiled as she came to her feet. “First, I can give you each girl’s approximate height, so you can compare them with the heights of other missing teens. If you find a match, we can move on to the next step. All of these girls’ teeth are intact, so if dental records are available for the girls you locate, we could do a comparison and ID them that way. However, I have to caution you again. Three has severe dental decay. I doubt she’s seen a dentist in quite some time.”