“But we haven’t matched her up with anyone?” he asked.
“We’re working on fingerprints and X-rays and hope to have something soon,” Wong replied. “As I said, I didn’t perform the autopsy on the first Jane Doe, but I’ve studied the sheets. To summarize, I can tell you that the murders were performed the same way. I believe both women were taken by surprise—since there appear to be no defensive wounds. They were drugged with an inhalant, and then—” he paused to show them the inner right elbow “—injected with propofol, a drug commonly used in surgery. Actually, our tox reports aren’t back yet, but that’s what was used on the Maryland victim and I’m betting this is going to be the same.”
“Interesting. So you think they were unconscious when they were mutilated?”
Wong nodded.
“That means he didn’t get off on the cutting,” Jackson mused. “And no sexual assault?”
Matt knew that the first victim hadn’t been raped or molested. Not as far as they could tell. While the bodies were badly decomposed, medical science could still provide them with evidence.
Wong shook his head. “No. Probably not. Doesn’t fit what we’re seeing here. I’d say the killer takes them, sedates them, rips them from stem to stern, stuffs the bodies with stones and tosses them. They’re found naked and heavily compromised by immersion in the water. As you can see,” Wong said, lifting the sheet, “she’s been nibbled on by many creatures.”
Matt could see—far too plainly.
“She was about five-six or -seven in life.”
“Long blond hair, five-six and a half,” Wong said.
“Almost identical to the first girl, according to the Maryland reports,” Carl offered.
“So, that’s his type,” Jackson said. “We’ll get the warning out. Press conference. I’ll ask you to handle it, Matt. Dr. Wong, please keep us apprised of anything new.”
They left the autopsy room, discarding their masks in the proper bin. Matt felt as if the smell of decomposition clung to him.
Carl paused in the hallway. “I’m not shirking,” he muttered. “I know this might be my last case, and I’ll be out there, working it as hard as ever. But... God, I hate cases like this. Like I said, we’ve got nothing, and until we get identifications, we don’t even have anyone to question. The killer knew what he was doing, disposing of the bodies. No trace on them—or not any that forensics has found as yet. Dump ’em in the river and you pretty well destroy any clue there might’ve been.” He paused. “We all know that some killers get away with it. I sure as hell hope it isn’t this guy.”
“We won’t let it be,” Matt said quietly.
Hunter nodded, but his expression was uncomfortable. “Gotta tell you, I don’t get the shakes easy. But...”
Matt was curious. Carl was as practical as a man could be. He seemed jittery, though, and Matt sensed that it was due to something other—something more—than the sheer horror of the case.
“What is it?”
“I got this awful feeling that she...that she looked at me when I first got to the scene. Impossible, of course. Her eyes...well, soft tissue. You saw...”
Matt glanced over at Jackson.
He’d touched the body. Whatever soul, whatever essence of life there’d been, was gone.
Carl shrugged. “I’m on it—task force, anything you need. I seem to keep saying this, but I’m glad you guys are in on this one. And no, we can’t let him be the one who got away.” He lifted a hand in farewell and hurried down the hall.
Jackson turned to Matt. “Right now, we have to be careful. Really careful. We need to get on the air, though. Say as little as possible,” he said. “But we need a warning out there. And we don’t know whether he might choose another type, so all women in the District and the surrounding area should be especially careful.”
“You don’t want the media folk at headquarters to handle this?”
“I think we need to take it from the start. I’ll arrange for clearance.”
Matt nodded. Headquarters had a division to deal with the media. But sometimes the Krewe worked on their own. He knew that he was often chosen to give press conferences because, according to Jackson, he had the all-American football player look. He could seem both stern and stoic—and, most important, trustworthy, reassuring to a worried public.
He wasn’t sure how anything about this situation could be reassuring; whether it was their usual kind of case or not, it was exceptionally disturbing.
And now he knew why the Krewe had been called in. Carl Hunter would’ve been careful about what he said and to whom. His own coworkers would have ribbed him mercilessly if he’d said that a corpse had looked at him. But somehow, he’d gotten that information through to the right people.