Page 90 of Evil Bones
Decomposition occurs in four stages: autolysis, bloat, active decay, and skeletonization. Early action features skin discoloration combined with the release of gases and fluids. Both changes were evidenced by an odor strong enough to trigger a gag reflex, a fetid mix reminiscent of putrefying meat and rotting vegetation.
Necrophagous insects—mostly flies at this point—had opened a dance hall on the decedent’s face. This pattern was typical, with theCalliphoridae, Sarcophagidae,andMuscidaeladies arriving within minutes of death and favoring the eyes, mouth, and nasal openings, orifices ideal for sheltering their eggs.
But the dense concentration seemed excessive in comparison to the rest of the body. The man’s face appeared to be moving, like a seething mass of miniature rice grains.
Pulling on latex gloves, I raised my mask and stepped closer. The flies rose in a buzzing, frenzied cloud.
Acorn’s handiwork lay beside the corpse, the number of bullets in the small furry body suggesting overkill. Though disgusted, I made no comment.
Slidell said nothing.
Ditto the uniforms and CSU techs.
Clasping my hands behind my head, I lifted my hair, hoping thebrief release of heat might help stave off the vomit. Holding my breath, I squatted beside the remains.
One look confirmed my suspicion.
Below the egg mass I could see grotesquely mutilated features. Empty orbits with the lids stretched wide. A flattened nose. Lips drawn back and fixed in a macabre death grin.
Incised into the forehead were the familiar letters:PE.
And there was something new that sent a chill down my spine.
Pulling my iPhone from my back pocket, I shot pics from several angles.
“You don’t trust CSU?” Acorn asked, speaking through fingers covering his mouth.
“Never hurts to have backups,” I said without turning around.
Swatting at the aerial kamikazes dive-bombing my eyes, I rose and circled the tree for a better view of the hands.
Hand.
The left one was missing. The truncated muscles and tendons of the wrist had turned black due to exposure to the elements. As with the disfigured face, a teeming mass of ova blanketed the raw stump.
“Can we move this along?” Acorn made no effort to hide his eagerness to be gone.
Stripping off my gloves, I swiveled to face him.
“Is there somewhere else you need to be, detective?”
“Always.”
Ignoring that seemingly egotistical reply, I said, “As with the other corpses turning up, a hand has been taken.”
“Meaning?”
“I believe a profiler would call it a signature.”
Acorn eyed me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“A mosquito is lunching on your cheek,” I said following a long moment during which I’d debated not telling him.
Acorn slapped at his face, was eyeballing the squashed offender when his mobile buzzed. Flicking the bloody corpus, he wiped his hand on his pants, then yanked the phone from his belt. Without excusing himself, he stepped away and turned his back to me.
Taking Acorn’s cue, I dialed the MCME. Following the obligatory pleasantries with Mrs. Flowers, Nguyen picked up.
The chief apologized for leaving before I’d arrived, said she’d received an urgent call about an infant drowning. Thanking me for going to the preserve, she requested an update.
