Waking the Dead Part 3

Shoving the now-empty bottle back into his pack, he followed her lead and got ready to move out. She took off without waiting for him, unerringly taking the path that would lead to the switchback heading down the other side of Castle Rock. He followed more slowly, gritting his teeth against the discomfort from the tighter fit of his jeans.

And knowing he had no one but himself to blame for his state didn't improve his mood one d.a.m.n bit.

"Fast work." Marin Andrews, trailed by Mitch Barnes, paused at the foot of each gurney before throwing Cait an approving glance. "I'm impressed."

The sheriff's reaction helped dissipate a bit of the exhaustion riding her. Cait and Kristy had been working nearly round the clock for forty-eight hours on the remains at the morgue. She was pleased with the progress they'd made, even while she was less thrilled with the growing flirtation between the ME and her a.s.sistant.

But Cait was willing to admit that might have something to do with the irritation she still felt when she recalled the time spent with Zach Sharper. Throwing herself into the lab work to be done with the bones had distracted her from the annoyance she felt every time she thought of the man. It wasn't as though she hadn't b.u.mped up against that sort of Neander thal att.i.tude before. She'd spent years in a career where she'd been seen as little more than a face, a body, a sh.e.l.l to be posed and photographed and stamped with someone else's brand. And it hadn't only been men who had treated her that way.

So it wasn't Sharper she was angry at. Not really. It was herself, for reacting to his baiting in a similarly juvenile fas.h.i.+on. She'd thought she was well beyond behavior fueled by self-indulgence. Although this hardly ranked up there with some of the more self-destructive choices of her past, it still stung to discover she could respond without thought to her position.

And it suited her to share the blame of that with Sharper.

She stepped aside to allow Barnes room to view the bones. "These are definitely human remains," she began. "Anatomical specimens can be purchased from a supply house, but that was easy enough to rule out since the bones don't have amalgam restorations. Fillings," she explained, when she caught the quizzical look Andrews shot her. "Michaels did a decent job of laying out the remains, but not all the bones matched up with the correct skeleton, so there was some rea.s.sembly necessary. And of course not all the bones of each victim are accounted for." When she saw the sheriff open her mouth, Cait put in, "I'll go into that more in a minute. Once we aligned the bones correctly, we used calipers and an osteometric board to remeasure them to get more exact approximations. There's also a computer program that we utilized that is pretty effective at calculating stature. Kristy?" She flicked a glance at her a.s.sistant, who silently handed the two law enforcement personnel a copy of their findings. "You'll note some differences from Michaels's initial report."

"So we know height and s.e.x. And that the bones are human."

"We know a bit more than that." Cait ignored the sheriff's testy tone. "These weren't discarded medical specimens, either. Generally those would be bleached white, have hardware attaching the bones together, and the bones would have a more polished appearance from excessive handling. Nor have they had prolonged exposure to soil."

"You figure that because they're clean?" It was the first Barnes had spoken since entering the room.

"Partially. Bones will take on the color of the surrounding soil. But the acidity of the soil will also eventually erode the surface of the bone." She indicated the ulna in the specimen closest to her. "That hasn't happened. Not on any set of remains. I've found virtually no trace of sediment on the bone."

"But you can tell how old each individual was at time of death, right?" This from Andrews again. She was moving slowly from gurney to gurney, peering at each set of remains as if to derive the answers she was seeking for herself.

"I can approximate." She skirted around Andrews and Barnes to retrace her steps toward the first gurney. "For purposes of identification at this time we're referring to the remains as female A through C and male D through G. Keep in mind the data is very preliminary," she stressed. Cait was a long way from drawing ironclad conclusions before all the tests were done, but in the course of an investigation, she developed a working set of details that morphed as more information became available.

Judging from the impatience on the sheriff's expression, she was more than willing to get to the conclusions, so Cait wasted no more time. "These are all adults. Without the craniums, I have to rely on examination of the auricular surface of the ilium, the sternal ends of the right ribs three through five, and pubic symphysis. None of the remains appear geriatric. I did find evidence of osteoarthritis in female C and males D and G. With all things considered, ages for the individuals range from late thirties to midsixties."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Andrews's normally stern expression relaxed into a slight smile. "Got specifics?"

"Yes, our findings are doc.u.mented in a copy I prepared for you." The corner of Cait's mouth pulled up. "I tried to keep it to layman's terms as much as possible. Your youngest victim here is female C, approximately thirty-five to forty. The oldest is male D, who was between sixty to sixty-five at the time of death."

"Can you tell which one's been down there the longest?" Andrews took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the moisture on her forehead. Since the temperature in the room was set at sixty-eight, Cait a.s.sumed the woman was having a hot flash. Her face had flushed to a bright shade of pink.

"No. The odds of me being able to pin down the sequence in their deaths are pretty remote. And the trickiest part of this process will be nailing down the age of the skeletal remains themselves."

Barnes and Andrews exchanged a glance. "What about radiocarbon dating?" the deputy demanded.

"That's time-consuming, expensive, and would only give you a calibration date specific to a century." Cait shook her head. "Since we're not dealing with archeological remains, that's unnecessary. I can tell you with a great deal of certainty that at least one of these victims died within the last year to eighteen months."

"Holy s.h.i.+t." Barnes breathed the words, his eyes sliding shut for a moment.

Andrews stopped in the act of putting away her handkerchief. And the leap of glee to her expression made Cait more than a little uneasy. "How can you be sure? You just got done saying aging the remains would be tricky."

Motioning for the others to follow her, Cait strode to stand between the third and fourth stainless steel gurneys. "See the difference in the bone color between these two sets of remains? Male G's bones have a waxy, almost yellowish cast. That means they're fresher, for want of a better word." She indicated the remains on the next table. "When the bones dry out more they become whiter."

"Cause of death?" Andrews's voice was sharp with excitement.

She hesitated, unwilling to relay what was really only a suspicion at this point. "Undetermined as yet. On the one hand we have no fresh fractures to the arms or fingers, which would indicate defensive wounds. But my initial conclusion is that the deaths were unnatural, although there is little hard evidence of that at this point."

"If there's little evidence, how can you be sure?" Barnes's tone was curious. He'd started growing a mustache since the last time Cait had seen him. She wondered if it was a personal choice, or if he'd been keeping hours as late as her own and had cut down on shaving.

"Process of elimination." From the corner of her eye she saw Kristy move to the back counter and begin to a.s.semble the copies of their test results in two folders, one each for Andrews and Barnes. "The method of disposal is suspicious in and of itself. It's highly possible that a death wound was sustained to the skull. As such, we wouldn't be able to answer that question unless and until we recover the craniums. We can be sure there is no evidence of blunt-force trauma, wounds from bullets or knives to the bodies. Discovering whether poison might have been used is a long shot. That tends to show up in hair, nails, and skin. But there's a possibility that cause of death may be broken neck. Several of the remains show a fracture of one or more of the cervical vertebra."

"That could be evidence of a fall," Andrews pointed out. "And if those bags were just dumped in that cave, the injury could have occurred upon contact with the cave floor."

"Maybe if we saw that with one set of remains. But for all of them . . ." She rounded the gurney to stand opposite Andrews. "If you look here"-she indicated the cervical vertebrae-"you'll see breakage between vertebrae three and four. The separation marks occur on most samples around vertebra one or two, although two of the individuals had their skulls separated at a slightly lower juncture. But all have this fracture in nearly identical spots. Can I tell you with complete certainty whether the injury occurred posthumously or if, in fact, it caused death?" She lifted a shoulder. "No. But I find it suspicious."

"The way I see it, we're still a ways from determining violent death," Barnes said mildly. Intercepting Andrews's look, he held up a hand as if to stem her response. "I'm just saying this is pretty inconclusive at this point."

"If you mean we need to continue our examination for definitive evidence, agreed," Cait said. "But I want you to look closely at these specimens and tell me what you see?"

The man looked wary. "I see bones. What am I supposed to see?"

"You see very clean bones," she corrected. "All of them likely underwent some kind of maceration process prior to discovery to get them this spotless. We aren't done running tests, so we haven't done any cleaning. There was very little tissue on any of them, even on the most recent set of remains, male G. We found no intact ligaments, either."

Andrews's eyes had narrowed. Whatever her deputy was thinking, Cait knew the sheriff was far ahead of him. "What are the possible processes for this maceration?"

"Typically boiling is used these days. It's faster and less troublesome than other methods. But when we use it, we have to cut through joints to fit the skeleton into the container of water. None of the joints on any set of remains show evidence of that." With the exception, of course, of the skull. "Which leads me to believe the bones have been cleaned by dermestid beetles. When we tested them, and the interior of the garbage bags, we found evidence of beetle fra.s.s."

"That's their s.h.i.+t," Kristy threw in cheerfully from her stance at the counter. "We also found a few of their exoskeletons, so there is ample evidence of their presence in conjunction with the remains. The only other evidence of etymology was a few exoskeletons of cave crickets."

"These are beetles found in the wild, though, right?" The sheriff squinted, as if thinking. "One of the last stages of decomposition if a body is left outdoors."

"But these bodies weren't left exposed," Cait corrected her. "If they'd been out in the wild, accessible to the stages of animal and insect activity, we'd see evidence of animals having chewed on the bones. Many of the larger ones would be missing. They'd be more weathered from the elements. Nor is the cave a hospitable environment for the bugs. They thrive in temperatures of seventy to eighty degrees. I'd hazard a guess that this colony of beetles is domesticated, probably raised for one specific purpose."

Barnes was looking a little sickly. His pale blue eyes widened incredulously. "You're telling me we've got some psycho feeding people to bugs to strip them down to their bones quicker so he can get rid of the evidence?"

"Don't be a . . ." Kristy caught Cait's warning look in time to amend her words. "Don't be ridiculous. Dermestids don't eat live flesh. They don't much like moist tissue, either. When we use them, we actually remove the organs, deflesh the bones, dry them for a while, and then allow the beetles to do the rest of the work. An active colony is amazingly effective."

Kristy's explanation hadn't alleviated Barnes's expression. But it was Andrews that drew Cait's attention. "You say you've used them?"

She nodded. "Forensic anthropologists might utilize them to strip away excess tissue before examining bones, although as I've said, it's more common these days to boil them. But the method of using the insects this way isn't unusual at all. You'd also see them used in large veterinary schools, museums, by taxidermists . . ." She shrugged. "I've even heard of high schools ordering a colony for their science programs. They're accessible to anyone. You can order them from some universities, although I've seen starter colonies for sale on the Internet."

She shot a look at the sheriff. "Remember what I said earlier about some of the small bones being missing? The insects might have consumed them. Their activity has to be monitored closely. Or they just might have been missed by whoever scooped up the bones to put in the bags."

"So if we accept that beetles cleaned the bones-and the evidence you've found makes that likely," Andrews said slowly, pulling at her bottom lip, "it looks more and more as though someone was trying to cover up evidence of a crime."

"We're a long way from finished with all our tests." Cait rolled her shoulders tiredly. "But based on what we've got so far, I'd theorize that we're dealing with a serial offender."

Barnes's expletive was audible. And Cait found she much preferred his reaction to that flash again of unbridled excitement in the sheriff's eyes.

She tried to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. The services of Raiker Forensics weren't cheap. It was a sure bet that the county budget hadn't been healthy enough to pay for bringing her in. More than likely the woman had tapped her rich daddy to ante up their fee. Couldn't blame her for being glad the expense was justified.

But there was still something a little creepy about a law enforcement officer being so enthusiastic about the prospect of someone in her jurisdiction systematically murdering people and dumping their bodies.

She understood ambition. It had been just that quality that had led Cait to leave the Bureau's labs behind without a backward glance to join Raiker Forensics. She was never going to get a shot from the feds to become an agent. But Andrews's motivation still made her more than a little uneasy.

"We're done with the bags." She indicated the garbage bags the remains had been found in. "Do you want us to check them for prints, or will your department handle that?"

Barnes answered before his superior could. "We'll take care of it." His pale blue gaze was wary. "Sort of outside your area of expertise, isn't it?"

Recognizing his territorial air she smiled easily, although she would have preferred to do the testing herself. "We're equipped for it, but if you want, Kristy will box them up for you. In answer to your question, though, no. All Raiker's employees receive thorough cross training." At his curt nod, she sent her a.s.sistant a look, and the woman drew on gloves before picking up the folded bags to place in a plastic evidence container.

"The bags themselves are a useful lead," Cait continued. "Black garbage bags have only been around a few decades. If testing shows the material is biodegradable, for instance, that narrows down the age of them considerably. They might even be able to discover the manufacturer. None of them have degraded much since being put in that cave."

She saw the look exchanged between the two law enforcement officers, but Andrews said only, "We've been promised expedited a.s.sistance through the state police crime lab in Springfield." The sheriff gave a small grim smile. "The criminal investigative division of the Oregon State Police has offered their help, as well. I'm hoping with you here, that won't be necessary."

More likely she was hoping that the investigation would be successfully concluded in a manner in which the woman could claim the credit, Cait thought cynically.

But she'd developed diplomacy early in life. It came in handy when dealing with her mother. She said only, "We also found traces of sediment in the bottom of some of the bags. When we tested it, we detected a high sulfur content. The sc.r.a.pings I took from the cave walls and the chamber don't match those findings." Noting the look exchanged between Andrews and Barnes, she paused. "That obviously means something to you."

"Oregon has several renowned examples of hot springs, many of which are tourist destinations," Andrews explained. She started to prop her palms on the gurney at her side, before appearing to remember the bones at her fingertips. "There are several in the general area. Bagby's one of them. Terwilliger at the Cougar Reservoir. Bigelow. But the closest one is probably Belknap Hot Springs, near McKenzie Bridge."

The words had Cait's pulse quickening. "How close to McKenzie Bridge?" The cave had been only a couple of miles.

"Six miles, give or take," Barnes said, correctly interpreting his boss's glance. "It's sort of a summer resort community, with a lodge, hotel, and cabins. The guests come to enjoy a variety of outdoor activities, but the springs are always a draw."

Cait nodded, already making plans. "Do you know if your county's Natural Resources Conservation Service has a current map of soil samples for Lane County?" The expression on Andrews's face and Barnes's silence gave her the answer. "Well, it's easy enough to call and see. If we get lucky, we'll be able to score a map of soil samplings from the entire county." High sulfuric content would be most likely to occur in areas with acidic soil, which should be indicated on the NRCS maps.

"And then what?" Barnes demanded. "There are smaller springs on private property scattered around the area and throughout the state, too. Even if we could get access to every piece of property around with the right soil sample, what would we be looking for?"

"For starters, we look for the missing bones." Cait rounded the nearest gurney to stand at the head of the third one. "For instance, these remains are minus several of the smaller bones from each hand and a couple for the toes. It's possible the beetles destroyed them. Equally possible that they were missed when the UNSUB was transferring the remains into the garbage bags. If we discover the primary scene for these homicides, chances are we find the offender, too."

Barnes still looked unconvinced. "Do you know how long it's going to take to cover every spring in this part of the state? And we can't get access to those on private property without a warrant, which we don't have grounds for."

Undeterred by his skepticism, Cait addressed the sheriff. "We don't have to cover the entire state, or even the entire county. We start in the area closest to where the bones were found and establish a grid around it, working outwards in each direction. Many of the private homeowners may well allow us on their property. It's a starting point." She c.o.c.ked her brow. "Unless you have a more pressing lead to follow."

The expression on Andrews's face was answer enough. "Lots of folks in the more rural areas value their privacy. They might not be as cooperative as you think." But it was clear she was considering Cait's suggestion.

"We'll explore other avenues simultaneously, of course." Cait went to get the doc.u.ments Kristy had prepared and walked back to hand one to each officer. "I'll start feeding preliminary descriptions of the victims, at least height, s.e.x, and approximate weight, into the National Crime Information Center database for missing persons and see what we get for hits."

Seeming to come to a decision, the sheriff nodded and looked at Barnes. "Keep tracking down those with violations listed with the Forest Service. Check out those individuals for criminal records. Cait can follow up on the soil samples. With the forestry agencies busy with that fire in the Cascades, we can use Sharper to get her where she needs to go."

Her satisfaction at the sheriff's words was more than a little dampened at the thought of spending more time in Sharper's company. But Cait made sure her reluctance didn't show in her expression. It had been a long time since a man had been allowed to affect her in any but the most superficial way.

Zach Sharper would be no different.

Chapter 4.

Zach managed to refrain from voicing the questions swirling in his head. He may not like playing chauffer for Caitlin Fleming at Sheriff Andrews's demand, but he told himself it could be worse. He could be forced to spend this much time in the sheriff's company instead. Or be paired with Deputy Tony Gibbs, a horse's a.s.s if he'd ever met one. At least Fleming didn't make him want to punch her.

She did, however, leave him wanting to punch something. It would be a welcome outlet for the simmering tension that increased with every hour spent in her company.

To divert himself from the unwelcome s.e.xual attraction, he seized on the curiosity that revved to life whenever he saw her studying a map from the sheaf in her lap. It wasn't one of those available from the forest station of nearby wilderness areas. The initials across the top of the first page gave that away. NRCS. What the h.e.l.l would she be doing with maps from the soil conservation agency?

Because he knew she wouldn't tell him if he asked-and d.a.m.ned if he'd ask-he kept his mouth shut. Before the end of the day, he'd figure it out on his own.

Pulling off the highway to the access road, he took the quarter mile drive up to the Springs Resort before coming to a stop. "This is it."

"I may be a while." She gathered up a bag, smaller than the backpack she'd had the last time they'd been together, and went to open the door.

"Listen . . .Caitlin."

"It's Cait." Her backward glance over her shoulder was half wary, half quizzical.

He had a feeling he was going to regret what he was about to say. "I might be more help if I knew what it was you were looking for."

"Thanks, but I can't tell you that." As if in afterthought, she scooped up the maps she'd been studying earlier and got out of the Trailblazer.

Zach studied her retreating figure through narrowed eyes. She was dressed as casually today as she'd been when he'd taken her to the cave. The difference this time was he was pretty sure she was carrying. His time in the military had taught him to spot weapons wherever they might be hidden on a person. Her gun was at the small of her back, beneath her T-s.h.i.+rt. And no matter how many times he told himself to let it go, he couldn't quite stop wondering why Caitlin Fleming felt the need to carry a gun to a popular tourist resort.

Almost as much as he wondered how good she was at using it.

With a hissed-out breath, Zach powered down his window and propped an elbow on the sill. He much preferred action to cooling his heels. Pulling out his cell phone, he spent fifteen minutes checking in with the guides he had on various outings-outings he could have been leading himself if he hadn't received the summons from Andrews last night. Since their reports indicated everything was going fine, he flipped the phone shut and tucked it away again. And checked the entrance of the resort.

No sign of Caitlin. Cait.

Drumming his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, he scanned the drive in front of the resort. Looked like business could be better. The parking lot to the side was less than half filled with cars bearing out-of-state plates. Tourists usually flocked to this place, looking to escape the tedium of their lives by immersing themselves in the natural beauty of Oregon's countryside. He could understand the need. There was something healing about spending time in the forests. In the mountains. On the rivers. Something that could always make him forget for a while exactly what had sent him back here.

Zach actually got a fair amount of business from the Springs Resort. The owners allowed him to display his business brochures and recommended his outfit to their guests. After another five minutes crawled by, he gave a mental shrug. As long as he was here, he may as well check at the front desk and see if more brochures were needed. Grateful for the excuse to move, he opened the door and got out, stretching his legs thankfully. Ducking back inside the Trailblazer, he pulled some pamphlets he always carried from the holder on the visor and headed for the front doors.

He nodded at Jim Lancombe, one of the groundskeepers, who was watering the beds and barrels spilling with flowers. The man was kept busy all summer and fall, but come winter he'd occasionally call Zach for some snowshoe hiking in the mountains. He was good company for two reasons. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, and he was as much an expert in the outdoors as Zach was himself.

A blast of air-conditioning hit him as he pushed open the front doors to the rustic log exterior of the resort. He spotted Cait right away, standing off to the side a few yards away from the front desk, talking to Mona Weston, one of the owners. From the expression on Mona's face, the discussion wasn't going well.

Though Cait's voice was pitched low, he could easily overhear Mona's side of the conversation.

"I just wish you'd wait and talk to my husband when he comes back. I hate to take the chance of my guests being bothered. People come here to get away and relax. They can't do that with cops tromping around the property." Seeing Zach, Mona lifted a hand in greeting.

Cait turned, her green gaze pinning him with the accuracy of a laser. "If it would make you feel better, Mr. Sharper can accompany me while I take a look around. I promise none of your guests will even know I'm here."

Gail's expression was confused. "Zach? You know this . . . Ms. Fleming?"

Well, h.e.l.l. Zach gave a moment's thought to turning and walking out the door again. Easier that way to mind his own business. But from the look on Cait's face, he could tell that wasn't going to be an option.

He made his way over to the women. Mona was dressed much the same as Cait, in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, but she had nearly twenty years on the younger woman, most of them spent outdoors. She was a good six inches shorter than Cait, with a strong, capable build that came as much from her work around this place as being the mother of three rambunctious boys.

"Mona," he said by way of greeting. "Gil not around?"