The killing hour

CHAPTER 8

Quantico, Virginia

11:33 A . M .

Temperature: 89 degrees

“TIME OF DEATH?”

“Hard to tell. Body temperature reads nearly ninety-five, but the current outside temp of eighty-nine would impede cooling. Rigor mortis appears to be just starting in face and neck.” The white-clad ME paused, rolled the body slightly to the left and pressed a gloved finger against the red-splotched skin, which blanched at his touch. “Lividity’s not yet fixed.” He straightened back up, thought of something else, and checked the girl’s eyes and ears. “No blowfly larvae yet, which would happen fast in this heat. Of course, the flies prefer to start in the mouth or an open wound, so they had less opportunity here…” He seemed to consider the various factors one last time, then delivered his verdict. “I’m going to say four to six hours.”

The other man, probably an NCIS special agent, looked up from his notes in surprise. “That fresh?”

“That’s my best guess. Hard to know more until we cut her open.”

“Which will be?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

The special agent stared at the ME.

“Six A.M.?” the ME tried again.

The special agent stared harder.

“This afternoon,” the ME amended.

The special agent finally cracked a smile. The ME sighed heavily. It was going to be one of those cases.

The investigating officer returned to his notes. “Probable COD?”

“That’s a little trickier. No obvious knife or gunshot wounds. No petechial hemorrhages, which rules out strangulation. No bleeding in the ears, which eliminates some brain traumas. We do have a large bruise just beginning to form on the left hip. Probably occurred shortly before death.” The ME lifted up the girl’s blue-flowered skirt, eyed the contusion again, then shook his head. “I’m going to have to do some blood work. We’ll know more then.”

The investigating officer nodded. A second man, also clad in khakis and a white dress shirt, moved in to snap more shots with a digital camera, while several grim-faced Marines stood guard along the yellow-ribbon-draped scene. Even in the deep shade of the woods, the heat and humidity were impossible to escape. Both NCIS special agents had sweated through their long-sleeved shirts, while the young sentries stood with moisture rolling down their chiseled faces.

Now the second special agent, a younger man with the requisite buzz-cut hair and squared-off jaw, looked down the heavily wooded path. “I don’t see drag marks,” he commented.

The ME nodded and moved to the victim’s black sandals. He picked up her foot and studied the heel of her shoe. “No dirt or debris here. She must’ve been carried in.”

“Strong man,” the photographer said.

The first special agent gave them both a look. “We are on a Marine base cooccupied by FBI trainees; they’re all strong men.” He nodded back toward the victim. “What’s with the mouth?”

The ME put his hand on her cheeks, turned her head from side to side. Then suddenly, he flinched and snatched his hand away.

“What?” the older agent asked.

“I don’t… Nothing.”

“Nothing? What kind of nothing?”

“Trick of the light,” the ME muttered, but he didn’t put his hand back on the girl’s face. “Looks like sewing thread,” he said curtly. “Thick, maybe like what’s used for upholstery. It’s certainly not medical. The stitching is too rudimentary to be a professional’s. Just small flecks of blood, so the mutilation probably occurred postmortem.”

There was a green leaf caught in the girl’s tangled blond hair. The ME distractedly pulled it free and let it flutter away. He moved on to her hands, flung above her head. One was curled closed. Gently, he unrolled her fingers. Inside her grip, nestled against her palm, was a jagged green-gray rock.

“Hey,” he called to the younger special agent. “Want to get a picture of this?”

The kid obediently came over and snapped away. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. A rock of some kind. Going to bag and tag?”

“Right.” The kid fetched an evidence container. He dropped the rock in and dutifully filled out the top form.

“No obvious defensive wounds. Oh, here we go.” The ME’s gloved thumb moved up her left arm to a red, swollen patch high on her shoulder. “Injection mark. Just the faintest bruising, so it probably occurred right before death.”

“Overdose?” the older agent asked with a frown.

“Of some kind. An intramuscular injection isn’t very common for drugs; they’re generally administered intravenously.” The ME lifted the girl’s skirt again. He inspected the inside of her thighs, then moved down to between her toes. Finally, he inspected the webbing between her index finger and thumb. “No track marks. Whatever happened, she’s not a habitual user.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Possibly.”

Older Special Agent sighed. “We’re going to need an ID right away. Can you print her here?”

“I’d prefer to wait until the morgue, when we can test her hands for blood and skin samples. If you’re in a real hurry, though, you can always check her purse.”

“What?”

The ME smiled broadly, then took pity on the Naval cop. “Over there, on the rock outside the crime-scene tape. The black leather backpack thingy. My daughter has one just like it. It’s very hip.”

“Of all the stupid, miserable, incompetent…” Older Special Agent wasn’t very happy. He got the kid to photograph the purse, then had two sentries expand the crime-scene perimeter to include the leather bag. Finally, with gloved hands, he retrieved the item. “Note that we need to take full inventory,” he instructed his assistant. “For now, however, we’ll detail the wallet.”

The kid set down the camera and immediately took up paper and pencil.

“Okay, here we go. Wallet, also black leather… Let’s see, it contains a grocery store card, a Petco card, a Blockbuster card, another grocery store card, and… no driver’s license. There’s thirty-three dollars in here, but no driver’s license, no credit cards, and for that matter, no kind of any card bearing a person’s name. What does that tell us?”

“He doesn’t want us to know her ID,” the kid said eagerly.

“Yeah.” Older Special Agent was frowning. “How about that? You know what? We’re missing something else. Keys.” He shook the bag, but there was no telltale jingle. “What kind of person doesn’t have keys?”

“Maybe he’s a thief? He’s got her address from the license, plus the house keys… It’s not like she’s going to come home anytime soon.”

“Possibly.” But the Naval officer was looking at the stitched-up mouth and frowning. From her vantage point behind a tree, Kimberly could read his thoughts: What kind of thief stitched up a woman’s mouth? For that matter, what kind of thief dumped a body in the middle of a Marine base?

“I need to fetch paper bags for the hands,” the ME reported. “They’re back in my van.”

“We’ll walk with you. I want to review a few more things.” The older Naval officer jerked his head toward his counterpart, and the younger man immediately fell into step. They headed off down the dirt path, leaving the sprawling corpse alone with the four sentries.

Kimberly was just considering how to make a stealthy exit herself, when a strong hand snapped around her wrist. In the next instant, a second hand smothered her mouth. She didn’t bother with screaming; she bit him instead.

“Damn,” a deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Do you ever talk first and shoot later? I keep running into you, I’m not gonna have any hide left.”

Kimberly recognized the voice. She relaxed against his large body, but grudgingly. In return, he removed both hands.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, casting a furtive glance at the crime-scene attendants. She turned to face Special Agent McCormack and he frowned.

“What happened to you?” He held up a silencing hand. “Wait, I don’t want to see the other guy.”

Kimberly touched her face. For the first time she felt the zigzag welts creasing her nose and cheeks with flecks of dried blood. Her scramble through the woods had taken its toll after all. No wonder her supervisor had tried to send her to her room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, voice low.

“Heard a rumor. Decided to follow it up.” His gaze briefly skimmed down her body. “I heard a young new agent made the find. I take it you had the honors? Little ways off the PT course, don’t you think?”

Kimberly simply glared at him. He shrugged and returned their attention to the crime scene.

“I want that leaf,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “You see the one the ME pulled out of the victim’s hair-”

“Not proper protocol.”

“You tell him, honey. I want that leaf. And as long as you’re here, you might as well help me get it.”

She jerked away from him. “I will not-”

“Just distract the sentries. Strike up a conversation, bat those baby blues and in sixty seconds, I’ll be in and out.”

Kimberly frowned at him. “You distract the guards, I’ll grab the leaf,” she said.

He looked at her as if she were slightly slow. “Honey,” he drawled. “You’re a girl.”

“So I can’t grab a leaf?” Her voice rose unconsciously.

He covered her mouth with his palm again. “No, but you surely have a bit more natural appeal to young men than I do.” He glanced down the wooded path at the direction the ME and two Naval investigators had gone. “Come on, sugar. We don’t have the rest of our lives.”

He’s an idiot, she thought. Sexist, too. But she nodded anyway. The ME had been grossly negligent to pull the leaf out of the girl’s hair, and it would be best if someone retrieved it.

Mac motioned to the left pair of guards and how he wanted her to draw them to the front. Then he’d go in from the back.

Thirty seconds later, taking a deep breath, Kimberly made a big production of walking from the woods right onto the dirt path. She made a sharp left and walked straight up to the pair of sentries.

“I just need to see the body for a moment,” she said breezily.

“This area is restricted, ma’am.” The first sentry spoke in clipped tones, his gaze fixed somewhere past her left ear.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Kimberly waved her hand negligently and stepped forward.

The young sentry made a discreet move left and without seeming to exert any real effort, blocked her path.

“Excuse me,” Kimberly said firmly. “But I don’t think you understand. I have clearance. I’m part of the case. For heaven’s sake, I was the first officer at the scene.”

The Marine frowned at her, unimpressed. The other pair of Marines had moved closer, obviously prepared to offer backup. Kimberly flashed them a sickeningly sweet smile. And watched as Special Agent McCormack eased into the clearing behind them.

“Ma’am, I must ask you to depart,” the first sentry said.

“Where’s the crime-scene log?” Kimberly asked. “Just get the log and I’ll show you where I’m signed in.”

For the first time, the Marine hesitated. Kimberly’s instincts had been right. These guys were just foot soldiers. They knew nothing about investigative procedure, or law enforcement jurisdiction.

“Seriously,” she pressed, taking another step closer and getting everyone antsy now. “I’m New Agent Kimberly Quincy. At approximately oh-eight twenty-two hundred I found the victim and secured the scene for NCIS. Of course I want to follow up with this case.”

Mac was halfway to the body now, moving with surprising stealth for a big guy.

“Ma’am, this area belongs to the Marines. It is restricted to the Marines. Unless you are accompanied by the appropriate officer, you may not enter this area.”

“Who’s the appropriate officer?”

“Ma’am-”

“Sir, I found that girl this morning. While I appreciate that you’re doing your job, I’m not leaving a poor young girl like that to a bunch of camo-clad men. She needs one of her own around. Simple as that.”

The Marine glared at her. She’d definitely crossed some line in his mind over to wacky. He sighed and seemed to be struggling to find his patience.

Mac was now at the area where they had both seen the leaf flutter to the ground. He was on his hands and knees, moving carefully. For the first time, Kimberly realized their problem. There were many dried-up leaves on the ground. Red, yellow, brown. What color had been in the girl’s hair? Oh God, she already didn’t remember.

The backup sentries had edged closer. They had their hands on the stocks of their rifles. Kimberly brought up her chin and dared them to shoot her.

“You need to leave,” the first sentry repeated.

“No.”

“Ma’am, you depart on your own or we will forcefully assist you.”

Mac had a leaf now. He held it up, seemed to be frowning at it. Was he also wondering what color it should be? Could he remember?

“Lay a hand on me and I will sue you for sexual harassment.”

The Marine blinked. Kimberly blinked, too. Really, as threats went, that was a pretty good one. Even Mac had turned toward her and appeared sincerely impressed. The leaf in his hand was green. All at once, she relaxed. That made sense. The leaves already at the scene were old, from last fall. A green leaf, on the other hand, had probably been brought in with the body. He had done it. They had done it.

The backup sentries were now right behind the first pair. All four sets of male gazes stared at her.

“You need to leave,” the first Marine said again, but he no longer sounded as forceful.

“I’m just trying to do right by her,” Kimberly said quietly.

That seemed to disarm him further. His stare broke. He glanced down at the dirt path. And Kimberly found herself still talking.

“I had a sister, you see. Not that much older than this girl here. One night, a guy got her drunk, tampered with her seat belt, and drove her straight into a telephone pole. Then he ran away, leaving her there all alone, her skull crushed against the windshield. She didn’t die right away, though. She lived for a while. I’ve always wondered… Did she feel the blood trickling down her face? Did she know how alone she was? The medics would never tell me, but I wonder if she cried, if she understood what was happening to her. That’s gotta be the worst thing in the world. To know that you’re dying, and nobody is coming to save you. Of course, you don’t have to worry about such things. You’re a Marine. Someone will always come for you. We can’t say the same, however, for the women of the world. I sure couldn’t say the same for my sister.”

Now all the Marines were looking down. That was okay. Kimberly’s voice had gotten huskier than she intended. She was afraid of the expression that must be on her face.

“You’re right,” she said abruptly. “I should go. I’ll come back later, when an investigating officer is here.”

“That would be best, ma’am,” the Marine said. He still would not look her in the eye.

“Thank you for your help.” She hesitated, then just couldn’t help herself. “Please take care of her for me.”

Then Kimberly turned quickly, and before she did anything even more stupid, disappeared back down the path.

Two minutes later, she felt Mac’s hand upon her arm. She took one look at his somber expression and knew he’d heard everything.

“Did you get the leaf?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now would you like to tell me why you’re really here?”

And Mac said, “Because all these years later, I’ve been waiting for him.”