She hadn’t read anything about her and Truman’s relationship in his articles. Anyone could find out that Truman spent a few nights a week at her apartment. Maybe Chuck was a bit lazy. It was a good thing she’d talked Truman out of confronting the reporter about his coverage of her, but Mercy knew that if Chuck included her relationship with the police chief in his stories—or personal details about Kaylie—she wouldn’t be able to stop Truman from losing his temper.
She didn’t look in Winslow’s direction, keeping her gaze toward the recovery scene. Truman started to turn toward Chuck, but Mercy tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t give him the satisfaction,” she ordered. She knew the reporter was at least twenty feet away, behind the yellow tape, his view of the crime scene strategically blocked by tarps and tents.
“Asshole,” Truman muttered. “One of these days . . .”
“Careful!” the forensic anthropologist snapped at one of her assistants. The assistant didn’t flinch, but everyone nearby did. The two women had climbed up from the culvert to the blacktop, their hands full with buckets of dirt and bones. The state’s structural engineers had shored up one side of the washed-out hole and deemed the site safe enough for the bone removal, but one engineer had stayed at the scene, noting the dwindling runoff and keeping a sharp eye on the movement of the mud.
Dr. Peres watched her assistant add the skull to the growing collection of bones and debris. The evidence would be taken to the medical examiner’s office, where the bones would be studied and hopefully reveal a lead for the investigators. Mercy had already pulled up a list of missing people from the immediate area. Since she didn’t yet know the sex or age of the remains, it might turn out to have been a waste of time, but Mercy had felt the need to do something to get the case moving.
“Dr. Peres.” Mercy pushed to her feet after her fifteen-second relaxation period. “I’m Special Agent Kilpatrick.” She held out her hand to the tall woman. An intelligent but impatient brown gaze met hers, and even though the doctor had been digging in mud for hours, there wasn’t a hair out of place from the large bun at the back of her neck.
“No, I don’t know who these people are yet,” the doctor immediately stated. Extreme patience filled her tone as she shook Mercy’s hand, but Mercy saw her annoyance flash. Dr. Peres seemed to be the type of person who just wanted to do her job and not be bugged by the police until she was ready.
Mercy raised a brow. “You’re not a miracle worker?”
“Not today. Try me next Tuesday.”
Mercy leaned closer. “Was that last skull from a child?” she asked in the softest possible tone.
Dr. Peres gave an imperceptible nod.
“How many more are in there?”
The doctor glanced from side to side, checking for listening ears. Truman had stepped away a polite distance. “I believe we’ve found them all, but I won’t guarantee that until the culvert is completely empty.”
“Just this end was blocked, right?”
“Correct. It appears that three-quarters of it was empty. We’ll need to check the surrounding area too.” She sighed. “There’s no telling how much of the remains have washed away.”
How can the doctor put together this puzzle when several pieces might be missing?
“Do you have an age and sex on the last skull?”
The doctor’s large brown eyes narrowed, her lips thinning.
Mercy pushed on. “I’m not asking for perfect answers, but I know you have a rough idea. I’m simply looking for a place to focus my efforts while I’m waiting for your report. I’m trying to save some time.”
Dr. Peres’s face softened, and she looked over at the vehicle holding the bins of recovered bones. “That last skull belonged to a child between the ages of five and eight. I’m leaning toward female, but I’m not positive yet.” She met Mercy’s gaze. “Sexing a skull is hard at a young age. Clothes and hair help, but we’ve found neither. One of the other skulls belongs to a young person too. I estimated in their teens.”
“Five skulls.”
“So far.” Dr. Peres gestured toward the downward slope of tall pines. “Who knows what we’ll find down there?”
The scope of the search suddenly hit Mercy. Acres and acres of dense sloped woods and rushing water. “It could take days,” she gasped, overwhelmed by the task.
The anthropologist simply nodded. Her eyes looked tired, but Mercy believed she wouldn’t give up until she was completely satisfied. She’d heard rumors about the state’s Bone Lady. Tough. Brass balls. Ice princess. Damn good at her job.
Mercy wouldn’t mind the descriptions for herself.
“Are you taking the remains back to Portland?” Mercy asked, wondering how many trips to Dr. Peres’s office at the medical examiner’s building were in her future.
“I’m going to use a facility here at the county morgue,” Dr. Peres told her. “I prefer to be close to a scene like this. Especially when it could take quite a while to get all the missing pieces.”
“That will make it easier on me too.” Mercy paused but couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “Have you seen anything to help us yet, Dr. Peres?”
“Call me Victoria. Did you get a look at any of the skulls?”
“Only from a distance.” Bones didn’t make Mercy squeamish. In fact, she found them fascinating and wished she knew how to read them the way this doctor did.
“It appears they all had powerful blows to the head in the temple area. The teeth have been forcibly broken. Someone took a hammer or club and bashed them in the mouth several times.”
Mercy’s teeth and jaw ached. “Postmortem?”
“I suspect so, but I’m not positive yet.”
“Were they trying to hide the identity?”
“They didn’t do a very good job if that was their goal. There’s plenty of teeth left, and people can even be identified by the roots of the teeth if we have previous dental X-rays. I’ve called for a forensic odontologist to come take a look.”
“Which skulls?” The idea of the child being hit in the mouth made her queasy.
“All of them.”
“Wait—what? All of them had the same injury?” A memory started to poke and prod in the back of her brain.
Victoria nodded. “All.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Mercy’s face. “Why?”
Mercy simply stared back at her, her mind scrambling to uncover the memory emerging in her mind. Broken teeth. Smashed in the mouth.
It rushed to the surface.
It’d happened before. A family who’d been murdered in their home. Mercy had been in grade school, but she’d overheard her parents discussing the brutal destruction to their mouths. The imagery had horrified her and stuck in her young imagination.
Then it’d happened again two months later. Two families murdered.
She’d never heard of that type of mass injury again until this moment.
THREE
“Grady Baldwin was arrested more than two decades ago for the murders of the Verbeek and Deverell families,” Mercy informed the other agents in the meeting room at the Bend FBI office. “I checked, and he’s still in the Oregon State Pen in Salem.”
“What was his motivation?” asked Special Agent Eddie Peterson. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his fascinated gaze locked on Mercy’s face, clearly wishing he’d caught her case.
“Baldwin claims he had no motivation because he didn’t do it,” Mercy said. “The state argued that he was attracted to Maria Verbeek, hit on her, and she’d turned him down. He was a handyman of sorts and had worked on both the Verbeek and Deverell homes during the six months before they were murdered. I’m trying to set up an interview with him.”
“All those children,” data analyst Darby Cowan said quietly as she made notes on her laptop.
“Exactly,” said Mercy. Between the two families, four children had been murdered with their parents. Mercy pulled up the photos of the families on the big wall screen. The Deverell family photo showed everyone in red pajamas in front of a Christmas tree. Happiness and mischief radiated from the family. The father held mistletoe over his wife’s head and kissed her cheek as she laughed at the camera. Ten-year-old Michelle and twelve-year-old Glenn had their arms around a black Lab wearing a Santa hat, and Mercy idly wondered if someone had adopted the dog.