Page 95 of Race to Save Her

“I’ve sent you both and cc’d John my findings and reports, but I always like to speak with you in person in case you have questions.”

“We appreciate that,” said Katie.

Dr. Dean adjusted his reading glasses. “First: the body had been identified as Martin John Sills through his incredibly impressive dental records. He was fifty-three years old and he had high blood pressure and was taking medication for it. Nothing unusual.” He skimmed through some comments. “As you may know, the bloated stage of decomposition occurs approximately three to five days after death and then the corpse ruptures. But with the higher heat, I approximated his death on the lesser end of that.”

“So how long had he been dead?” said Katie.

“As close as we can tell, he had been there for approximately four days. The inside atmosphere was warm and it appeared the heater was set higher than average.”

The detectives remained quiet, waiting for the answer to the big question.

“Decomposed bodies can be complicated and limited, but we found from the skeletal evidence including teeth, internal findings, and toxicology a cause and manner of death.”

“Was it conclusive?” she said.

“Yes. About an eighty-eight-percent likelihood. I also consulted with a colleague of mine, Darren Miller, who agreed with my findings. You will have his information in the reports if you need it.” Dr. Dean seemed to be enjoying the big reveal. He popped a mint into his mouth. “The cause of death was stabbing—approximately ten times, slicing the liver, pancreas, and the neck. The manner of death is homicide.”

Katie let out a sigh of relief. It was indeed Martin Sills, which was huge. And now they knew he must’ve been killed late the week before, even before Patricia was taken, around the time the detectives were shot at.

“Any questions?” said the ME smiling. “I can see you’re processing the information.”

“Sorry,” said Katie. “There’s a lot of moving parts on this investigation. But that is all very helpful.”

“Indeed,” said Dr. Dean.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” said McGaven.

The detectives left the medical examiner’s office.

“Okay,” began Katie as they returned to the car. “It seems the killer has been coordinating the timing of his devious plot.”

“We need to tighten the timeline.”

“Absolutely.”

Both of their phones alerted to incoming text messages. Katie looked at her partner and knew it wasn’t good news.

McGaven read his message. “Another body.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t say. We are to meet them on Heritage Road, where it’s extremely windy, apparently. About six miles from the fire department.”

“Okay.”

“What’s so important about that area around Heritage Road?” said McGaven. “Is there a message in that?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to have to figure it out.” Katie held her breath as they raced toward the scene. She knew the body was Patricia—and maybe only part of her.

FIFTY-SIX

Monday 1130 hours

Katie raced to the crime scene, which appeared to be a vehicle crash. There were several fire trucks, an ambulance, two trucks, and three police cars. As Katie approached, she slowed and opted to park the farthest away. She cut the engine and sat, not immediately getting out.

“What’s up, partner?” said McGaven as he unhooked his seatbelt.

“I don’t want to see this.”