“This isn’t unusual,” Stan Wenhoff, the District’s chief medical examiner, told them.
Tully stared at the blackened skull. The pile of rubble didn’t appear to include a body. He took a couple of careful steps closer. Something about a fire scene made him expect the floor—what was left of it—to still burn all the way through the fire boots and the soles of his shoes.
The scent of smoke and ashes hung in the air. Water and foam dripped from the skeletal rafters that remained. He wished he had a baseball cap. Stan had brought an umbrella and looked ridiculous, like an English gentleman in from a stroll along the countryside. That is if the English gentleman wore Tyvek overalls.
Something wet and solid slopped onto the back of Tully’s neck. He snatched at the debris and flung it aside, drawing a few scowls from Ivan and the fire chief, who had stopped their own inspections to hear what Stan had to say about their latest “not unusual” discovery.
The skull looked as if someone had taken a fist-size rock and bashed a hole into the top of it. The fire investigative team had just begun moving and raking smoldering debris into ridges along the concrete floor, where they would later sift and examine it.
“Think of the skull as a sealed container,” Stan explained to his audience, ignoring the pitter-patter hitting his umbrella. “Like a ceramic jug filled with liquid. Heat it up and it doesn’t take long for the liquid inside to reach a boiling point. That creates pressure.”
Just when Tully envisioned the ceramic jug bursting apart, Stan put an end to his own analogy and added, “The cranium explodes. Boiling blood, brain, and tissue expand and have nowhere to go. The skull literally explodes into pieces. Sometimes it can blow a head right off a body.”
“It was a hot fire,” the fire chief admitted, nodding. “This thing burned upward of a thousand degrees. That doesn’t happen without some help. Definitely used an accelerant. May have been a chemical reaction. We found the start point at the back door. Actually on the outside of the back door.”
All of them continued to stare down at the rubble as if expecting more bones to appear, like one of those picture puzzles that if you looked hard enough and long enough you’d see the hidden objects.
“The intense heat makes the blood boil inside the bones, too,” Stan said. “Same kind of pressure builds up as in the skull. Makes bones fracture and break apart. Could be blown all over the place.”
Which set them all looking around.
“There are other floors.” Ivan pointed up. “Is it possible the rest of the body’s still up there?”
And again, as if on cue, all heads swiveled upward to the smoldering, dripping rafters.
“Chief,” one of the techs interrupted.
He held up a finger to tell the man he’d be right here. As he turned to leave he told them, “Give my folks time to sift through this mess. We should have some answers for you, but remember I’ve got two sites here.” And he walked away.
Ivan followed close behind, his neck still craning up as if he expected body parts to fall down from the second floor.
“What are the chances of IDing this …” Racine paused, searching for words as she referred to the skull. “This victim?”
Stan set aside his umbrella, dug in his Tyvek pocket, and pulled out a pair of purple latex gloves.
“Teeth don’t burn. They might have broken or been jarred off from the pressure.” He picked up the skull and carefully examined the jaw. “Well, this is unusual.” He turned the skull to get a better look inside the jaw. He scraped at the soot with his gloved thumb.
“What’s wrong?” Racine asked.
“The bone doc will need to examine this. But I think the teeth may have been shattered.”
“The fire couldn’t do that?”
“No. Not that I know of.” He was studying the top of the skull now and turned to show them the hole at the top. “Usually when a skull bursts from heat pressure, it shatters. It is a bit odd to have a hole this big without fracturing the skull into pieces. Unless the skull was compromised before the fire.”
“What do you mean ‘compromised’?” Tully wanted to know. “Are you saying the victim may have been bashed in the head and teeth before the fire?”
“It’s possible.”
Tully and Racine exchanged a look and Stan noticed.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The victim out by the Dumpster. Her face is bashed in.”
CHAPTER 15
It was complicated. That’s what Maggie wanted to tell Ben.
In just a little over a year Benjamin Platt had gone from being her doctor to her friend to her … what? What were they exactly?
Boyfriend, girlfriend sounded sophomoric. And although they had shared a hotel room—and a bed, once—as well as many intimate thoughts and conversations, they weren’t lovers. Yet.