Whispers of the Dead - Страница 28

‘Where are your tablets?’

His mouth was stretched in a grimace. ‘Side pocket…’

I tore open his overalls, berating myself. You should never have let him do this! If he collapsed in here… There was a button-down pocket on the thigh of his chinos. I pulled it open but couldn’t find any tablets.

‘They’re not there.’ I tried to sound calm.

His eyes were screwed shut with pain. His lips had developed a blue tinge. ‘Shirt…’

I patted his shirt pocket and felt a squat hard shape. Thank God! I pulled it out and unscrewed the top, shaking out one of the tiny pills. Tom’s hand trembled as he slipped it under his tongue. Nothing happened for a few moments, then the tightness in his face began to relax.

‘OK?’ I asked. He nodded, too drained to speak. ‘Just take it easy for a minute or two.’

There was a rustle from nearby as Jerry, the big forensic agent, came over. ‘Y’all OK?’

I felt Tom’s hand tighten on my arm before I could answer. ‘Fine. Just need to catch my breath.’

The agent didn’t look fooled, but left us alone. As soon as he’d gone Tom’s shoulders slumped again.

‘Can you walk?’ I asked.

He drew in an unsteady breath. ‘I think so.’

‘Come on, let’s get you out of here.’

‘I’ll manage. You carry on.’

‘I’m not letting you—’

He gripped my arm again. There was a quiet entreaty in his eyes. ‘Please, David.’

I didn’t like the idea of letting him make his way from the woods by himself, but it would only agitate him more if I insisted on going as well. I looked between the pine trunks to the edge of the trees, gauging how far it was.

‘I’ll take it nice and slow,’ he said, guessing what I was thinking. ‘And I promise to rest as soon as I get out.’

‘You need to see a doctor.’

‘I just have.’ He gave a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry. You just finish off here.’

Anxiously, I watched as he picked his way through the woods, moving with the deliberation of an old man. I waited until he’d reached the tree line, vanishing through the close-pressed branches into the daylight before I went over to where Jerry was examining an object on the ground that might or might not have been a piece of bone. He glanced up as I approached.

‘He all right?’

‘Just the heat. You said earlier that you’d found a skull?’ I went on quickly.

He led me to where another small flag had been set at the bottom of a slope. The pale dome of a human cranium sat next to it, half buried among the pine needles. The mandible was missing, and the skull lay upside down like a dirty ivory bowl. The heaviness of its structure suggested it was a man’s, and I could make out fracture lines radiating across the frontal bone of the forehead. It was the sort of injury caused by impact with something flat and hard.

Like a car windscreen.

I was sure now that the remains belonged to Willis Dexter, in which case we probably wouldn’t learn much from them. It was almost certain that the mechanic had died in a car crash rather than been murdered. His only connection with the killings was that his casket and grave had been appropriated by the killer. If we could have established if either of his hands, or even any digits, were missing it might at least explain how his fingerprints came to be left on the film canister so long after his death. But no carpels or phalanges had been found, and given the size of the woods it was unlikely that they ever would be. The remains had been too thoroughly picked over by scavengers. Even if the smaller bones hadn’t been eaten, they could be anywhere by now.

‘Wasted journey, huh, doc?’ Jerry said cheerfully as I photographed the latest find—a rib chewed down to half its original size. ‘Not much to say, other than they’re human. And we could’ve told you that. Anyhow, if you’re done we’d like to start getting this all boxed and bagged.’

It was an unsubtle hint. I was about to leave him to it when I noticed another flag.

‘What’s over there?’

‘Just some teeth. Must’ve come loose when the jaw was pulled off.’

There was nothing unusual about that. Scavengers generally eat the face first, and the teeth could easily have been dislodged from the missing mandible. I almost didn’t bother going over. I was hot and tired, and wanted to see how Tom was. But I’d learned from hard experience not to take anything for granted.

‘I’d better take a look,’ I said.

The flag had been placed amongst the exposed roots of a scrubby pine. It wasn’t far from where the ribcage lay, but it wasn’t until I was up close that I could make out the dirty nuggets of ivory. There were four molars, coated in dirt and hard to see amongst the pine needles. It was a testament to the thoroughness of the search that they’d been found at all. Yet as I looked at them it seemed that something wasn’t quite right…

The heat and discomfort were instantly forgotten as I realized what it was.

‘Just teeth, like I told you. So, you done now?’ Jerry asked as I began to photograph them. The hint was plainer this time.

‘Have you got photos of these yourself?’

He gave me a look that said I was an idiot for asking. ‘Doc, we’ve got photographs coming out of the wazoo.’

I pushed myself to my feet. ‘I’d take some more of these anyway. You’re going to need them.’

Leaving him staring after me I made my way out of the woods. Sweat was trickling down my back as I left the claustrophobic cover of the pines and gratefully pulled off my mask. Unfastening my overalls, I ducked under the crime scene tape and looked around for Tom. He was standing some way off, talking to Gardner and Jacobsen in the shade of the yew hedge. He looked OK, but my relief lasted only until I saw Hicks was with them. A moment later I heard the raised voices.

‘… no legal standing in this investigation! You know that as well as I do.’

‘That’s ridiculous. You’re just splitting hairs, Donald,’ Tom said.

‘Splitting hairs?’ The sun glinted off the pathologist’s bald head as he thrust out his chin. ‘Will the judge be “splitting hairs” when he throws out a homicide case because an expert witness let an unsupervised assistant tramp all over a crime scene? One who probably won’t even be in the country when this goes to court?’

It wasn’t hard to guess who they were talking about. They all fell silent as I approached.

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked Tom. First things first.

‘I’m fine. I just needed some water.’

Up close I could see he was still pale, but he seemed a lot better than he had. The look he gave me made it clear I shouldn’t mention his attack in front of the others.

I turned to Gardner. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘You’re damn right there’s a problem!’ Hicks interrupted. For all his indignation, I could see he was enjoying himself.

‘Maybe we should discuss this some other time,’ Gardner suggested wearily.

But the pathologist wasn’t going to be diverted. ‘No, this needs to be settled now. This is one of the biggest serial killer investigations the state’s seen in years. We can’t risk amateurs fouling things up.’

Amateurs? I clamped my mouth shut as my temper threatened to slip. Whatever I said would only make things worse.

‘David’s every bit as competent as I am,’ Tom said, but he lacked the energy to argue. Hicks stabbed a finger at him.

‘That’s irrelevant! He shouldn’t have been wandering around a crime scene by himself. What about it, Gardner? You going to start handing out tickets so anyone can just walk in?’

Gardner’s jaw muscles knotted, but that had hit home. ‘He’s got a point, Tom.’

‘Goddammit, Dan, David’s been doing us a favour!’

But I’d heard enough. It was obvious where this was going. ‘It’s all right. I don’t want to make things difficult.’

Tom looked stricken, but Hicks was barely able to suppress his glee.

‘No offence, Dr… Hunter, is it? I’m sure you’re well enough respected back home, but this is Tennessee. This isn’t your affair.’

I didn’t trust myself to say anything. Jacobsen was staring at Hicks with an unreadable expression. Gardner looked as though he wished the whole thing was over with.

‘I’m sorry, David,’ Tom said helplessly.

‘It’s OK.’ I handed him the camera. I just wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere. ‘Will you be able to manage?’

I didn’t want to say more, not in front of the others, but Tom knew what I meant. He gave a quick, embarrassed nod. I started to turn away before I remembered what I needed to tell him.

‘You should take a look at the teeth that’ve been found in there. They don’t belong with the rest of the remains.’

‘How do you know?’ Hicks demanded.

‘Because they’re from a pig.’

That silenced him. I saw the flash of interest in Tom’s eyes. ‘Premolars?’

I nodded, knowing he’d understand. But he was the only one. Hicks was glaring at me as though he suspected some sort of trick.

‘You’re telling me they’ve found pig’s teeth? What the hell are they doing there?’

‘Don’t ask me. I’m only an amateur,’ I said.

It was a cheap parting shot, but I couldn’t help myself. As I walked away I saw the smile on Tom’s face, and thought there might even have been a ghost of one on Jacobsen’s.

But it didn’t make me feel any better. I retraced my steps round to the front of the chapel, yanking the overalls’ zip so hard they tore. I wrenched myself free and stuffed them in a plastic bin already half full of discarded protective gear. When I stripped off the rubber gloves sweat dripped out of them, forming dark splashes like a modernist painting in the dirt. My hands were pale and wrinkled from being trapped in the airless latex, and for an instant I felt a tug of something like dé;já vu.