Whispers of the Dead (15 page)

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 T
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 V 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 zjavourV
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 deja vu.
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.
cDr 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.
Til get my car,'Jacobsen said.
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,
I "Uke again.
li.it way.' I described the fractures to the skull's forehead,

ISK
Hand 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

Bto 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.