Page 82 of Pretty Broken Dolls
When it was done, Agent Haley pulled the flash drive out and handed it to Katie. “There you go. I just went ahead and copied all the reports. Sorry for the inconvenience. I’m a new junior agent, promoted from administrative executive assistant, and it’s been a bit overwhelming, but I’m getting there,” she rattled on then finished with a sigh.
“Thank you,” Katie said and then decided to ask, “Is there anything new on the Trenton case?”
“Not that I know of. Everything is there in your hand.” She popped open her container and began to eat. “Maybe we can keep this a secret? I don’t want Agent Campbell to know that I messed up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said McGaven.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” She smiled as she ate a large forkful of salad.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything new we need to know?” Katie gently pushed.
“No…” The junior agent shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, if something new comes in, please don’t hesitate to give us a call.”
“Of course, Detective Scott,” she said.
* * *
Driving back to the office, McGaven’s cell phone chimed. It was a text message from Dr. Dean:We have an ID on the vic.
Chapter Thirty
Tuesday 1600 hours
Katie and McGaven were directed to wait inside the exam room for a few minutes while Dr. Dean finished up some other business first. There were no chairs in the room except the round rolling stool that sometimes was used by the examiner when making notes as it allowed them to navigate around the table easily. As they waited, they felt the suspense build.
It was difficult to look away from the body lying on the metal table—but there was nothing else to keep your interest as you waited. Usually, bodies were covered with a sheet, but this time the nude, battered body of Jane Doe was not protected from view. Her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. She had been washed, the blood cleaned off in preparation. The purple-grayish body lay motionless, almost resembling a rubber doll.
Katie noticed that her right hand was darkened and the fingers were black from the inking for print identification. The room was colder than normal—at least that was how it felt to her. She struggled with the urge to cover up the young woman.
Katie glanced to McGaven who had a stern and stoic expression, his eyes studying everything in the room except the body.
Dr. Dean dashed in, his white smock covered in bright blood. “Sorry I’m late. Still a bit behind with bodies—busy weekend, I’m afraid.” It was a new look for him since it covered his usual cheery Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. Now he looked like a spunky hero who had run the gauntlet of the zombie apocalypse.
“No problem,” said Katie, trying to keep her eyes on the medical examiner’s face.
“Nice to see you both, as always, but it’s always under such stressful circumstances.” He grabbed a file folder from the table. “Ah yes, your Jane Doe now has an identity. This is Darla Winchell, thirty-four, who worked for First Community Bank of Pine Valley. The next of kin is Dorothy Winchell, her mother. She’s been contacted and will be here later to make an official identification.”
“How did you find out her identity so quickly?” she said, making a few notes.
“Luckily she had been fingerprinted when she applied for the First Community Bank. It’s common for anyone who works for banks. An FBI background check is always done.” He effortlessly zoomed around the body. “And for professional purposes, I deem this to be a homicide—primary cause of death is blunt force to the chest causing sudden cardiac arrest and secondary would be extreme loss of blood, or hypovolemic shock.”
“Now we can begin our investigation,” said Katie. It was stating the obvious but she was relieved that they had something to work with to chase down clues.
Dr. Dean adjusted his glasses and stood next to the body. He pointed out the markings on her chest. “I knew that you would be interested in this right away. See those two markings—circular in shape and darker than the other bruising?”
“Yes,” she said. They were round like something had pressed up against her or hit her. “Is that similar to the blow that hit Jeanine Trenton?”
“Yes and no,” he said.
Here we go again…
Katie knew that the medical examiner loved to give both the positive and negative about injuries. It kept her on her toes and made the examination that much more accurate, but still, Katie became anxious, wanting the information.
“In my opinion,” he began, “those are test impacts.”
“As if the killer was trying to see the minimum level of pressure they needed for whatever they wanted to accomplish—like stunning before killing the victim? Testing and improving his technique?”
