Page 56 of The Fragile Ones
“That’s all I could find, I’m afraid—or couldn’t find,” said John.
“From speaking to Mrs. Mayfield, she seemed to be defensive about the girls’ records. Maybe she knew—or didn’t. We’ll never know now.”
“The only thing we can do is track down Jenni and Brad Homestead by name, and see what they have to say,” said McGaven.
“That’s one for you,” Katie told him.
John moved to another workstation and pulled up a computer image of a skull. “Now, here’s Megan’s skull. I’ve been trying to piece it together in order to figure out what made the impact that killed her.” He looked from Katie to McGaven before continuing, “We have this new re-enactment program that fully stands up in court. So, I can hypothetically show you what a wound from various types of murder weapon would look like.”
“Great.” Katie kept her eyes glued to the screen.
“I first wanted to show what a fall would look like, but nothing remotely appeared to simulate this injury,” said John.
Katie watched with interest.
“Then I tried a baseball bat, or something in similar size, but look at the result.”
The computerized depiction showed a baseball bat smacking the small skull area, but the actual damage was too immense to match the damage on Megan’s skull.
“By a long process of elimination, I got this result from a standard size tire iron.” The screen showed the simulated impact, which was very consistent with the injury Megan received.
“Tire iron,” she said.
“Well, consistent with a tire iron or something with that approximate size and density.”
“Thank you, John,” said Katie.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“No, it’s been very helpful. There’s always something to be learned from evidence—or even the lack of it.”
“I’ll email over a copy of that album, okay?” John said.
With so much in her mind, Katie had momentarily forgotten about the photo album she’d found in the girls’ bedroom, that had mysteriously turned up in the evidence. She needed to know who the people in those family shots were.
“That would be great, thanks.”
Katie turned and walked slowly out of the large exam room. McGaven followed her back to the office. There were maps newly taped on the wall showing Rock Creek, with small dots designating places of interest.
“This is great,” she said.
“You like it?”
Katie marveled at the display, looking at it from different perspectives. McGaven had put little pins where they got a flat tire, the girls’ home, the swing where they were last known to be, the police department, and the house on Sandstone Way.
“It’s beautiful. A story is emerging—a dark story.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Friday 0945 hours
Katie drove solo to the university to meet with Dr. Simone Halverson, an expert on the psychology behind excessive tattooing and physical branding. She left McGaven in the office working on the locations of Darren Rodriguez, and Jenni and Brad Homestead, as well as searching other jurisdictions in California for cases similar to the Mayfield double homicide. Her hope was to find a link from other cases—but mostly, it was conducting due diligence.
Before Katie had found Dr. Halverson’s research, she would never have believed that people could inflict such horrible and degrading brandings on themselves and others. It was a taboo subject, but some researchers had been learning more about why a small portion of the population want to brand themselves—the opposite of using tattooing as a means of expression and art.
Katie ran all the events in Rock Creek through her mind once again, trying to make sense of it all. She felt as if someone was pulling her strings, dragging her through a maze of unrelated incidents.
Then, out of nowhere, it happened. Driving through the main entrance of the university, a strange uneven vertigo hit her from nowhere, skewing the lines on the road and sending her off course.
