Page 57 of Shadow's Surrender
Chapter Twelve
The three hikershuddled together, lines of fear etched on their faces. Detective McCue tipped his head in their direction as he plodded through the wooded area, cursing under his breath as numerous burs stuck to the bottom of his brown pants.
Ahead, yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a large area, and he saw his partner, Detective Ibuado, watching from the side as the crime techs did their job. The medical examiner stood by the body, head bent as McCue approached, only looking up when the detective stood next to him.
“What do we have here?”
Conrad Gaines, medical examiner for the past ten years, raked a hand over his face. “A woman in her late forties … maybe early fifties. Multiple stab wounds—at least forty or fifty, with a cluster of them in the right chest area. Some of the wounds passed completely through the victim’s body. I could see the tendons on the arms, that’s how deep they went.”
A low whistle escaped through McCue’s teeth. “Fuck. Sounds like it was personal.”
“Yep—rage and deep-seated hatred would be my guess,” Ibuado said as he walked up to the two men.
“Any ID on the victim?” McCue asked.
“Nope,” his partner replied.
“Any signs of sexual assault?” he asked the ME.
“Her pants and underwear were pulled down, so maybe. I’ll know when I do the autopsy.” Gaines shook his head. “She died a horrific death. A blood-soaked rock was found near the body and the back of her head was bashed in, so I’d guess that’s what dazed her, although there were a lot of defensive wounds. Our victim put up quite a struggle.”
“But she lost. Fuck.” McCue took out his pad and jotted down some notes. He was old-fashioned in that he still liked to hold a pen and write his thoughts and observations on paper. “Maybe she died of blunt trauma?”
Gaines shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Any number of the wounds could’ve caused her death. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done with the examination.” He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “I’m done here. I’ll call you.” He lifted his chin at McCue and Ibuado and walked away.
“Anything distinctive on her like a tattoo or some weird piercings that could help us ID her?” McCue asked.
Ibuado folded his arms across his chest. “Not that I could tell. Conrad will be able to give us more info once the body’s cleaned up. She did have a lot of bracelets on both arms.”
“Okay … I’m not too sure if that’ll be helpful,” McCue said as he wrote down that fact.
“I’m talking twenty or more thin ones on each arm. Not many women wearthatmany. Maybe we can release that fact to the press to help identify our Jane Doe.”
McCue nodded and scratched the tip of his chin—a nervous habit he’d had ever since he could remember. “That may help. I’d think a woman who wears that many bracelets would do it most of the time, but then again, I’m not into women’s fashions or what the hell they do with their accessories.”
Ibuado chuckled. “With four daughters, a wife, and three sisters, I can tell you, a woman tends to dress a certain way, so I’d say our Jane Doe probably wore a lot of those things on her arms most, if not all, the time she went out. And when are you going to call Alma? She’s been asking me that every day.”
“I told you not to fix me up. One bad marriage is enough for a lifetime.” McCue snapped the notebook shut.
“That was years ago, and Corinne was a nutcase. You can’t like being alone all the time, dude. A man needs a family.”
“I’m doing just fine on my own, and I’m too damn old to change diapers. I’m good, really. Tell Alma she can do a lot better than me.”
“My cousin’s not gonna give up that easily,” Ibuado said.
“I told you not to play fucking Cupid. Now you have to deal with it,” McCue said as he and his partner trekked back toward the hikers.
“Maybe she’d like Jarvis. He’s kind of shy, but he seems solid. What do you think?”
“Go for it. Did you get a chance to talk to them?” He pointed toward the trio, who stood staring at the crime scene.
Ibuado shook his head. “Not yet. Brady said that they discovered the body, and he didn’t get any vibe that they were involved in the murder.”
“Okay—let’s do this. I’ll take the guy, you take the blonde woman, and”—he motioned to an officer to come over—“White can interview the redhead.”
McCue’s steps were heavy as he trudged over to the male witness, his mind still on the victim who’d been left like a piece of trash in the woods. The young man’s face was pale and his body trembled slightly.
“I’ve never seen a dead body before.” He folded his arms over his chest. “It was horrible … just awful.” The witness unfolded his arms and rubbed a hand over his face.
“I know it’s quite a shock,” McCue said as he took the notebook and pen out of his inside jacket pocket.
“I bet you’re used to it … I mean, you’ve seen a lot of bad stuff, huh?” Again, he folded his arms.
“You never get used to it.” McCue held out his hand. “I’m Detective McCue, and I’m going to ask you some questions …”
