She took him back and introduced him to “Harold,” aka Dr. Albright, one of the eight medical examiners working in the office. Harold and his assistant had already begun work on the unknown woman’s body, and Joe Brentwood stood rigidly nearby, watching.
It was a long process. The deceased had been X-rayed when she arrived, her clothing taken away to be analyzed, and blood samples were already being processed. Jeremy learned all that by listening to Dr. Albright speaking into the microphone that was hanging down above the body, so he could describe the process as he worked. He identified the body as that of a young woman between the age of seventeen and thirty-three, standing approximately five foot three and weighing one hundred and twenty pounds. Her neck had been broken, probably postmortem, perhaps even by the weight of her skull as it fell forward due to the staging of the corpse in the fields. Death appeared to be the result of strangulation; heavy bruising was clearly visible around the neck and throat. Trace evidence taken from the body thus far included organic matter, such as dirt and vegetation, insect matter and other undetermined substances.
The stench of decomposition was strong, even in the cold autopsy room. Joe gestured toward a stainless-steel table along one wall, silently suggesting that Jeremy take a mask.
Jeremy was happy to do so.
He found it almost impossible not to distance himself a bit—to stand, like Joe, a few feet back, arms crossed over his chest, and try not to imagine that the rotting flesh and protruding bone on the table had once lived, breathed, laughed.
More photographs were being taken, but Jeremy was certain they were not for identification purposes.
Her face was too badly disfigured for that.
Not, he soon discovered, by the murderer. The damage done to the flesh of her face—other than the red slash across her mouth—had been caused by the birds of prey and insects who had fed upon her while she had reigned atop the stake in the field.
She had had sex shortly before death, and the bruising over her genitalia strongly indicated that it had been rape. Dr. Albright estimated the time of death at about a week prior to the discovery of the body. She did not appear to have been in a state of malnutrition or dehydration prior to death.
The M.E.’s voice became a drone in Jeremy’s head.
The doctor made the Y incision so he could begin examining the internal organs, and the corpse became even less recognizable as human.
Heart a normal weight, two hundred and seventy grams; brain, normal, thirteen hundred grams; lungs, also normal, the left, three hundred and seventy grams, the right, four hundred.
Kidneys, both normal, left, one hundred and thirty grams…
Pancreas, spleen, liver…
Tissue samples were taken for later analysis. The assistant removed larvae found in the flesh, and Jeremy knew they would be important in establishing the exact time of death.
He became aware of a soft humming, just below the sound of the water that ran continually to keep the autopsy table clear, and he turned and noticed a computer running nearby. The screen held the image of a sightless skull covered in rotting flesh—the skull belonging to the woman on the table. Alongside it, an automated program ran a series of graphs, and as he watched, the computer began to rebuild her face, even as she lay dead ten feet away. Robbed of life, she was yet given it back.
By the time the doctor stepped aside and his assistant began stitching up the body, a human being was appearing on the screen. Statistics and math were putting her back together, just as the surgical thread was.
She had been pretty.
Young, and pretty.
But not as pretty as Mary.
Or as flat-out beautiful as Rowenna.
But the dead woman was certainly attractive enough to have drawn attention. He was surprised by how relieved he felt to know that he hadn’t been mistaken, that death hadn’t worked so cruelly on the body that he had been wrong to swear that it wasn’t Mary. This woman was indeed shorter. Dark haired, curvy, probably quick to laugh and flirt. To live.
He hadn’t felt queasy during the cutting, or even while listening to the description of her wounded flesh, which could be even worse.
But seeing her face, seeing what she had been in life…
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Joe said grimly.
Jeremy was grateful that he hadn’t jumped when the policeman’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.
“This will be in the papers and on the news by tonight, correct?” Jeremy asked him.
Joe nodded grimly. “I hope you’re aware that we’re holding back a great deal.”
“I would never discuss a case with the press.”
“We’ve held back any mention of the slashed face. I’d asked my men not to mention that the body had been found fixed up like a scarecrow, but that got out somehow anyway.”
Jeremy stared at him evenly. “Not through me.”
Joe shrugged. “I didn’t say you had anything to do with it. Too many emergency personnel on site. Someone was going to squeal. But I’m hoping we can keep it quiet about what he did to the mouth. That’s got to be symbolic of something, don’t you agree?”