Whispers of the Dead - Страница 29

What? What does that remind me of?

But I was too angry to dwell on it. And a more mundane thought had occurred to me. I’d come to Steeple Hill in Tom’s car. After my grand exit, now I was stranded out here.

Oh, terrific. I flung the gloves into the bin and took out my phone before realizing I didn’t know the numbers of any local taxis. And even if I did, they wouldn’t be allowed into the cemetery.

I swore under my breath. I could always wait for Tom to finish, but my pride wouldn’t allow that. Fine. I’ll walk. Knowing I was being stubborn but in too foul a temper to care, I headed for the gates.

‘Dr Hunter!’

I turned to see Jacobsen coming along the path towards me. The bright sun was in her face, making her squint slightly against the glare. It caused tiny crow’s feet to appear at the corners of the grey eyes, giving her a quizzical, almost humorous look that softened her features.

‘Dr Lieberman said you didn’t have your car. How are you getting back to town?’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘No thanks.’ I was in no mood to accept favours.

Her expression was impossible to read as she brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. ‘I wouldn’t recommend walking. Not with all the press outside.’

I’d not thought about that. The anger began to leak away, leaving me feeling more than a little stupid.

‘I’ll get my car,’ Jacobsen said.

CHAPTER 12

THE SILENCE in the car wasn’t exactly companionable, but neither was it awkward. I didn’t feel talkative and Jacobsen didn’t seem concerned either way. My temper had cooled a little, but there was still a slow burn of resentment that refused to die down.

I pulled at my shirt, still hot and uncomfortable from the time spent in the pine woods. The inside of the car had been turned into an oven by the sun, but the air conditioning was finally starting to win the battle. I stared moodily out of the window, watching the unending succession of stores and fast food restaurants troop past: glass, brick and concrete set against the dark green backdrop of the mountains. More than ever I was aware of how unfamiliar much of it was. I didn’t belong here. And you’re certainly not wanted.

Perhaps I should check for earlier flights after all.

‘You might not like it, but Dr Hicks had a point,’ Jacobsen said, rousing me from my thoughts. ‘Dr Lieberman’s an authorized TBI consultant. You aren’t.’

‘I know how to work crime scenes,’ I said, stung.

‘I’m sure you do, but this isn’t about how capable you are. If this goes to trial we can’t afford to have a defence attorney argue that we didn’t follow procedure.’ She turned to look at me, her grey eyes candid. ‘You should know that.’

I felt my self-righteous anger wilt. She was right. And there was more at stake here than my pride.

‘Dr Lieberman’s ill, isn’t he?’

The question took me by surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’

Jacobsen kept her attention on the road. ‘My dad had a bad heart. He looked the same way.’

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘He died.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was years ago,’ she said, closing the subject.

Her face was studiedly expressionless, but I sensed she was regretting giving away even that much about herself. It struck me again how attractive she was. I’d been aware of it before, of course, but only in an academic way, as you might admire the shape and form of a marble statue.

Now, though, in the close confines of the car, I was all too conscious of it. She’d taken off her jacket, and her short-sleeved white shirt showed off the toned muscles of her arms. Her gun was still clipped to her belt, a jarring note against the smart business suit. But I could hear the whisper of her skirt on her legs as she worked the pedals, smell the fresh clean scent from her skin; a scented soap, I guessed, too light to be perfume.

My sudden awareness of her was unnerving. I looked away from the full lips and stared resolutely ahead, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. Jacobsen would probably break my wrist if she realized what I was thinking. Or shoot you.

‘Any news about Irving?’ I asked, to take my mind off it.

‘We’re still searching.’ No, in other words. ‘Dr Lieberman says the remains in the woods were probably Willis Dexter’s,’ she said, businesslike again.

‘It seems that way.’ I described the fractures to the skull’s forehead, and how they fitted Dexter’s injuries. ‘Makes sense, I suppose. Someone switched bodies, and then dumped Dexter’s in the woods at the back, where it wouldn’t be found unless the grounds were searched.’

‘But whoever did that would know that would happen as soon as we found the wrong body in the grave. So they obviously wanted us to find this as well.’

First Loomis, then the unidentified remains in the casket, now Dexter. It was like a paper trail of corpses, each one leading to the next. ‘It had to be someone with access to Steeple Hill,’ I said. ‘Have you got any further in tracking down this Dwight Chambers who York claims was working there?’

‘We’re still looking into it.’ Jacobsen slowed the car to a stop as we drew up to a red traffic light. ‘You sure the teeth you saw were from a pig?’

‘Certain.’

‘And you think they were left deliberately?’

‘There’s no other reason for them to be there. They were above the ribcage, exactly where the head would have been before scavengers got to the body. But none of the teeth showed any signs of scoring or damage, and if there’d been any gum tissue on them rodents would have gnawed it off. Which suggests the teeth were already clean when they were left there.’

There was a small furrow between Jacobsen’s eyes. ‘But what’s the point?’

‘Don’t ask me. Perhaps whoever left them there just wanted to show off again.’

‘I don’t follow. How is leaving pig’s teeth showing off?’

‘Pig premolars look a lot like human molars. Unless you know what you’re looking for, it’s easy to mistake one for the other.’

Jacobsen’s frown lifted. ‘So the killer was letting us see he knows about details like that. Like the fingerprints left at the crime scenes. He’s not just testing us, he’s bragging how clever he is.’

She gave a start as a horn blared behind us, alerting us that the lights were green. Flustered, she pulled away. I looked out of the window so she wouldn’t see my smile.

‘It sounds like pretty specialist knowledge. Who’d have access to that sort of information?’ she went on, her composure once more in place.

‘It’s no secret. Anyone with—’

I stopped short.

‘With a forensic background?’ Jacobsen finished for me.

‘Yes,’ I admitted.

‘Such as forensic anthropology?’

‘Or forensic archaeology, or pathology. Or any one of a dozen different forensic disciplines. Anyone who can be bothered to look through textbooks can find that sort of information. It doesn’t mean you have to start pointing fingers at people who work in the field.’

‘I wasn’t pointing fingers at anyone.’

The silence that fell now was anything but comfortable. I searched for a way to break it, but the aura around Jacobsen made small talk unthinkable. I stared out of the window, feeling flat and tired. Traffic streamed past, glinting in the early afternoon sunshine.

‘You don’t think much of psychology, do you?’ she said suddenly.

I wished I hadn’t said anything, but there was no avoiding it now. ‘I think there’s too much reliance on it sometimes. It’s a useful tool but it isn’t infallible. Irving’s profile showed that.’

Her chin came up. ‘Professor Irving let himself be sidetracked by the fact that both victims were male and naked.’

‘You don’t think that’s significant?’

‘Not that they’re male, no. And I think you and Dr Lieberman hit on the reason why they were naked.’

That threw me, but only for a second. ‘A naked body decomposes faster than one with clothes on,’ I said, annoyed with myself for not having seen it sooner.

She gave a nod. She seemed as keen to skirt past the brief awkwardness as I was. ‘And both Terry Loomis’s body and the exhumed remains were more decomposed than they’d any right to be. It isn’t unreasonable to assume they were both unclothed for similar reasons.’

Another chance for the killer to sow confusion and demonstrate his cleverness. ‘The exhumed body would have to have been stripped for the needles to be planted anyway,’ I said. ‘And once they were in place it’d be too risky to handle it any more than necessary. Certainly not just to put its clothes back on. But that doesn’t alter the fact that all the victims were male.’

‘The ones we know about, you mean.’

‘You think there are more we haven’t found yet?’

I thought at first I’d gone too far. Jacobsen didn’t answer, and I reminded myself that she didn’t have to; I was no longer a part of the investigation. Get used to it. You’re just a tourist now.

But just as I was about to withdraw the question she seemed to reach a decision. ‘This is pure speculation. But I’d agree with Professor Irving that we’ve only found the victims the killer wanted us to find. The level of brutality and sheer confidence he’s displayed makes it almost certain that there are others. No one develops that sort of… sophistication, for want of a better word, first time round.’