Page 21 of Silent Bones
“Found this tucked under a patch of moss. Ziplock, mostly empty, but there was enough to test.”
He passed it to her.
Addie glanced at the label, then raised an eyebrow. “So you ran a presumptive?”
“Field test came back inconsistent, but G-series leans toward meth. I want to know if they had any of it in their system and specifically what else is in it.”
She moved to a smaller metal station along the wall and added it to a plastic tray already half-filled with vials, swabs, and tissue samples. She entered the case number into her tablet. “I’ll run a full tox panel on the kids, see what shows up,” she said. “But you know, Noah, it’ll take time.”
“Any guesses?” McKenzie asked. “Would meth make someone… do something like this?” He gestured vaguely toward the table.
Addie tapped the screen, her fingers suddenly more fidgety. “Meth can cause aggression, paranoia, overheating, even hallucinations in high doses. But it doesn’t give you the strength to crush rib cages. And it sure as hell doesn’t tear open flesh postmortem like that.” She paused. “Unless there were others at that campsite using. Someone we haven’t accounted for.”
Noah stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the tray.
Addie moved back to her main screen. “Here’s another thing. I didn’t mention it earlier, but” — she flicked to a close-up image of another victim — “two of the bodies have bruising across the back of the shoulders and triceps. Pattern suggests they were hit while running away. Not defensive wounds. Impact from behind. Heavy.”
McKenzie leaned in. “So, they were chased.”
“Maybe. Or blindsided. No sign of hesitation injuries. No raised arms, no fight posture. They weren’t defending themselves, they were just trying to move.”
Addie shifted again. Her tone softened just a notch. “And Rachel, the one we looked at first, she had something under her fingernails. Not dirt. Not consistent with self-scratching.”
Noah straightened. “Skin?”
“Could be,” Addie said. “Could be her own. Could be someone else’s. I sent the sample for DNA analysis, but I doubt I’ll get results for at least a week. Maybe longer.”
“But it might narrow it down,” Noah said. “Or give us a match if we find another suspect.”
“Exactly.”
The hum of the lab settled again, ambient and hollow. Addie’s fingers hovered over the tablet like she didn’t want to tap it yet. Like the next image or data point might tip her into a place she didn’t want to go.
She finally looked up. “Here’s what I can tell you. All four victims suffered from massive trauma. Skull fractures. Rib breaks. One had their spine compressed from a downward blow. None of this was surgical or strategic. It was chaos. Total panic. A frenzy.”
Noah spoke quietly. “Anything ritualistic?”
Addie shook her head. “No signs of that. No carvings. No symbols. Just raw violence.”
Noah stepped back slightly, eyes on the cooler wall. “So we’re looking at what, rage? Revenge?”
“Could be,” Addie said. “But if that’s the case, then someone out there either lost control… or knew exactly how to make it look like an animal did it.”
McKenzie crossed his arms. “You mentioned tearing by claws. Could those be manmade?”
Addie nodded slowly. “Possible. But the depth of the wounds… it’s hard to explain. It’s either someone wielding something heavy, like a weighted claw, or…”
She trailed off.
“Or?” Noah prompted.
She met his eyes. “Or someone with enough strength to do this barehanded. Which isn’t likely unless they are a grizzly bear or…” She didn’t go any further.
The three of them stood in silence for a few beats. The cooling system clicked on in the background, breaking the stillness with a low mechanical hiss.
Noah looked down at the fur bag again.
“This doesn’t feel like a clean kill,” he said. “It feels like a message. Or a cover-up. Or both.”
