Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Thirty
Tuesday 1600 hours
Katie and McGaven were directed to wait inside the exam room for a few minutes while Dr. Dean finished up some other business first. There were no chairs in the room except the round rolling stool that sometimes was used by the examiner when making notes as it allowed them to navigate around the table easily. As they waited, they felt the suspense build.
It was difficult to look away from the body lying on the metal table—but there was nothing else to keep your interest as you waited. Usually, bodies were covered with a sheet, but this time the nude, battered body of Jane Doe was not protected from view. Her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. She had been washed, the blood cleaned off in preparation. The purple-grayish body lay motionless, almost resembling a rubber doll.
Katie noticed that her right hand was darkened and the fingers were black from the inking for print identification. The room was colder than normal—at least that was how it felt to her. She struggled with the urge to cover up the young woman.
Katie glanced to McGaven who had a stern and stoic expression, his eyes studying everything in the room except the body.
Dr. Dean dashed in, his white smock covered in bright blood. “Sorry I’m late. Still a bit behind with bodies—busy weekend, I’m afraid.” It was a new look for him since it covered his usual cheery Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. Now he looked like a spunky hero who had run the gauntlet of the zombie apocalypse.
“No problem,” said Katie, trying to keep her eyes on the medical examiner’s face.
“Nice to see you both, as always, but it’s always under such stressful circumstances.” He grabbed a file folder from the table. “Ah yes, your Jane Doe now has an identity. This is Darla Winchell, thirty-four, who worked for First Community Bank of Pine Valley. The next of kin is Dorothy Winchell, her mother. She’s been contacted and will be here later to make an official identification.”
“How did you find out her identity so quickly?” she said, making a few notes.
“Luckily she had been fingerprinted when she applied for the First Community Bank. It’s common for anyone who works for banks. An FBI background check is always done.” He effortlessly zoomed around the body. “And for professional purposes, I deem this to be a homicide—primary cause of death is blunt force to the chest causing sudden cardiac arrest and secondary would be extreme loss of blood, or hypovolemic shock.”
“Now we can begin our investigation,” said Katie. It was stating the obvious but she was relieved that they had something to work with to chase down clues.
Dr. Dean adjusted his glasses and stood next to the body. He pointed out the markings on her chest. “I knew that you would be interested in this right away. See those two markings—circular in shape and darker than the other bruising?”
“Yes,” she said. They were round like something had pressed up against her or hit her. “Is that similar to the blow that hit Jeanine Trenton?”
“Yes and no,” he said.
Here we go again…
Katie knew that the medical examiner loved to give both the positive and negative about injuries. It kept her on her toes and made the examination that much more accurate, but still, Katie became anxious, wanting the information.
“In my opinion,” he began, “those are test impacts.”
“As if the killer was trying to see the minimum level of pressure they needed for whatever they wanted to accomplish—like stunning before killing the victim? Testing and improving his technique?”
“That’s the way I interpret it. This time, the killer appeared to do a test—actually two tests—first, incapacitated the victim but it wasn’t enough to cause a full cardiac arrest. And then the final strike of the cutting of the throat allowing the bleed-out was what completed their procedure.”
Katie thought about that for a moment and realized that this was a brutal signature. “There isn’t a way to tell if the same person committed both murders by the way they incapacitated the victims and then sliced their throats?”
“I see what you’re getting at, Detective, but I can only give you the cause and manner of death. There were quite a few defensive wounds, as well.” He adjusted his glasses, turning his focus on her. “But I can tell you that the same technique was used—whether it was the same person who used it against Jeanine Trenton or someone who was taught the same method, you’ll have to figure that out.”
“I see.”
“Otherwise, I would be stepping into your territory.”
“What else can you tell us?”
“She was in good health, appropriate weight, didn’t appear to have any diseases or disorders.”
“Toxicology?”
“Still waiting on that, but I don’t foresee anything. I’ll be sending you the official report after the autopsy is complete.” He smiled.
“I noticed at the scene she had some broken fingers and toes.”
“Yes, her left hand had breakages on the pinky and ring fingers of the middle phalanges and the middle metacarpal bone.” He picked up Darla Winchell’s hand, moving the fingers for documentation. Turning to the X-ray light box, he showed the broken hand and foot bones. “Also the left proximal phalanges on the outside toes.”
Katie studied the X-rays. “Thank you, Dr. Dean.”
McGaven gave a nod.
“She also had a faint tattoo on her left arm right here,” he said and brought their attention to the inside of her left wrist.
“What is that?” she said.
“It looks almost as if it’s a… K and a 9.”
It stopped Katie cold. Could it be another K9 handler?
“Detective?” said the medical examiner.
“Yes?”
“If anything unusual comes up, I’ll be sure to contact you right away.”
Katie smiled before she exited the room, followed by McGaven. Now their work really began. Who was Darla Winchell? Was she a military K9 handler? Why did she end up at the fairgrounds?