Lawyer Trap

31





DAY FIVE–SEPTEMBER 9

FRIDAY AFTERNOON


The coroner—a small serious man named Robert Nelson who had a perpetual hint of whiskey on his breath—called Teffinger shortly after two in the afternoon. He confirmed a lot of the puzzle pieces that Teffinger already suspected.

The head of body number three did in fact belong to Rachel Ringer, according to her dental records.

The other Jane Doe, body number four—who Teffinger suspected to be a 19-year-old by the name of Catherine Carmichael based on the date of her disappearance—was in fact who he suspected. Again, according to dental records. Her eyes had been gouged out postmortem, after her throat got slashed.

Body number two—Tonya Obenchain—who showed no exterior signs of trauma, died by suffocation.

Then the coroner dropped a bomb.

“Going back to Rachel Ringer,” Nelson said, “whoever took her head off used some kind of a saw with a jagged blade.”

Teffinger spun an empty coffee cup around on his desk.

He already knew that.

“A hacksaw?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” the coroner said. “The jags appear to be too big. I’m thinking something more in the nature of a wood saw.”

“Ouch,” Teffinger said.

“That word, unfortunately, is probably pretty appropriate,” Nelson said.

The man’s voice trembled.

Teffinger had never heard him like this before and stopped spinning the cup. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” Nelson said, “the guy cut her head off while she was still alive.”

Teffinger stood up.

“Tell me you’re screwing with me,” he said.

No response.

“Are you serious?”

Nelson confirmed that he was.

Very serious.

“Well, what kind of sick ass does that?”

“I don’t know,” Nelson said. “But there’s more. From what I can tell, the cutting started, stopped, and then started again. A number of times.”

Teffinger paced.

Sweat dampened his forehead.

“He took his time,” the coroner said. “He started on one side of the neck and worked his way in. Then he shifted over to the other side and did the same thing. It seems that each cut only went in a quarter of an inch or so at a time.”

Teffinger kicked his trash can and sent it rolling across the room.

“Goddamn it!”

“I’m thinking he purposely avoided the front throat area so she wouldn’t drown in her own blood,” Nelson said. “He also avoided the back spinal area. Maybe because he wanted to watch her kick and didn’t want to paralyze her.”

Teffinger pictured it.

Then noticed that his hands were trembling.

“How long did it take?” he asked. “All told?”

“A while,” Nelson said. “Even after he hit the aorta and she started bleeding to death.”

“Is that how she died then? Bleeding to death?”

“No. She died when he cut through her spinal cord,” Nelson said. “If she’d bled to death, she wouldn’t have had as much blood left as we found.”

It was at that moment that Sydney stepped into the room and motioned at him.

“CNN’s here,” she said. “They’re getting set up.”

Teffinger told Nelson he’d call him back later and hung up. He hadn’t taken two steps toward the door when his phone rang. He almost didn’t answer it but did.

It turned out to be a nurse from the hospital, Denver Health.

“Marilyn Black is ready to be released,” she said. “Short-term, she’s okay. But if she doesn’t get into a rehab program ASAP, we’re going to be seeing lots more of her—us or the coroner. She got really lucky this time.”

Teffinger already knew that.

“I’ll be down in about a hour to pick her up. Is that okay?”

It was.

The CNN interview turned out to be a lot more brutal than Teffinger initially envisioned. The questioning focused on why the other three bodies hadn’t been discovered when the first one was. They also wanted to know if there were any suspects yet—which of course there weren’t. Finally, they wanted to know if Teffinger had located the person in the photograph that was being broadcast on the local TV stations and in the newspapers. What was her connection to everything?

He was actually glad they asked about that.

It gave him an opportunity to publicly state that they had found the woman and determined that she didn’t know anything. Hopefully, if any of the killers had perceived her as a threat, they didn’t now and would leave her alone.

When the interview ended, Paul Kwak blocked Teffinger’s path in the hall and brought him to a stop.

“This is your lucky day,” Kwak said, scratching his big old gut.

Teffinger looked skeptical.

“If you have good news, you’ll be the first.”

“I got a lead for you on a guy selling a ’67 Corvette,” Kwak said. “I’d jump on this one myself, but I’m already tapped out after getting that ’63. It’s a small-block, but it’s a numbers-matching, two-owner car.”

“Have you seen it?” Teffinger questioned.

Kwak shook his head.

“Not yet,” Kwak said. “But it’s supposed to be primo. Red over black; and the seller’s not looking for a lot of money. He’s more interested in being sure it gets a good home.”

“Wow.”

“I’d jump all over it if I was you,” Kwak said.

Teffinger looked at his watch.

He was already late picking up Marilyn Black.

“Right now I have to run an errand,” he said. “Can we see it this evening?”

“I’ll make a call and find out,” Kwak said. “I don’t see why not.”

“Let me know. If not tonight, then tomorrow. I want to be the first guy there.”

“I’ll call you.”

Before he could get out of the building, Sydney cornered him. “I’m keeping track of young females disappearing, like you wanted me to,” she said. “Apparently a young Hispanic woman disappeared in Pueblo on Thursday, someone named Mia Avila, a 24-year-old. She runs a tattoo shop.”

Teffinger nodded and headed for the stairwell.

“Pueblo?”

“Right.”

“That’s a ways off,” he noted.

“True.”

Hispanic too.

All the victims so far were white.

“Anyone else?” he questioned.

“No.”

“Well, just keep her on your radar screen for now,” he said. Then he stopped and turned. “Have you talked to the Pueblo PD?”

“No.”

He opened the door to the stairwell.

“Why don’t you give them a call just for grins and see what they have to say.”

“Where are you going?”

He stopped.

“To pick up Marilyn Black from the hospital,” he said.

She walked toward him.

“Let me go with you.”

“Why?”

“She’s going to need a place to stay,” Sydney said. “I was thinking she could stay with me.”

Teffinger cocked his head.

“I located her mom—in Idaho. With any luck I’m going to put Marilyn Black on a plane. If that fails, you can be Plan B.”