“Hey, Dr. Owens, I came by to check out your burn vic. You got a minute?”
Sam felt a brief rush of annoyance. Peterson was the backup forensic odontologist on contract to Davidson County to do dental identifications. He was a small, graying mouse of a man, interminably cheerful. His pink nose twitched with allergies, and he had a wide smile that rose to watery blue eyes behind round, wire-rimmed John Lennon glasses. He was prone to seersucker, and even this late in the fall sported a salmon stripe with a wadded white linen handkerchief bulging from his breast pocket. The man was nice enough, but he was a little erratic, sometimes impossible to reach for weeks at a time. It was his practice to drop in on Sam at his leisure, citing his booming dental practice as his number one priority. Thankfully she didn’t need his services terribly often. Dr. Michael Tabor was their main guy, and he was almost always available, except for when he was out on major cases, on loan to other jurisdictions.
Sam had called Tabor’s office, found out he was in New York on a case, and had been forced to ring Peterson. He’d been surprisingly quick to respond. It was amazing what a little press coverage could do. Everyone wanted their name in the paper, especially on a case that was rapidly turning into a colossal citywide panic.
“Hey, Gerald. Come on in. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
Sam swiped her card, and the security doors unlocked. They entered and made their way through the lobby and the security door, then headed right into the clinical area and through the biovestibule.
Sam stopped and swung open a door, allowing the dentist in before her. The body had been taken to the anthropology laboratory, which was used primarily for the examination of skeletal remains. Just like the main autopsy suite, it had a skylight, but was much smaller, with a single stainless steel table resting against the wall.
The body was housed in the small refrigerator unit in the room. They brought her out and set her on the aluminum table. Sam turned on the large overhead spotlight, and Peterson settled in to work, pausing briefly to pull a clipboard with the National Crime Information Center dental form from his briefcase.
Sam sat back and let him work, helping as needed.
The female they were trying to identify was most likely on a missing persons list. She’d had at least ten thousand dollars of cosmetic work done on her teeth. Veneers, bonding, a well-done root canal, wisdom teeth extractions. Taylor had set Lincoln to work looking for a young female who would have gone missing within the past two months, just to cover all the bases. If there was any chance of finding the identity of this girl, it would be through her dental records.
Dr. Peterson was humming, marking his coded chart, and clucking to himself occasionally. He finally looked up.
“Someone is missing this girl. She’s had a lot of work done, and someone had to pay for it. As young as she is, I’d bet anything on parents.”
“Care to hazard a guess at her age?”
“You really should talk to your anthropologist to be completely accurate, but the lack of wear, the condition of her bone, I’d give it a guess at twenty to twenty-five years old.”
“Yeah, she put it there, too.”
He handed her the dental chart he had completed. “I know it’s a long shot, but eventually that damn NCIC database is gonna make a match. Give this to Taylor, and let’s see how lucky we are.”
“I’ll fax it up there right now. Are you going to be available if I need to get in touch?”
“Of course. I’m always available for your calls.” He gave her a winsome smile, nose twitching, and they walked back to the lobby together.
“Thanks so much for your help, Gerald. I really hope we can find out who this girl is.”
Sam walked him out, then swiped her card and went back inside, stopping in the reception area.
“Kris, could you fax this over to Lincoln Ross in Homicide? Tell him it needs to go in the dental database right away. If by the grace of God something matches, tell him to call me on my cell.”
“Certainly, Dr. Owens. I’ll do it right now.” As she spoke, she was already out of her chair.
“Thank you,” Sam said then headed to her office, saying a prayer as she went.
62
“Forensic Medical, can I help you?”
“Can I speak to Dr. Owens, please? This is Lincoln Ross with Homicide.”
“I’m not sure exactly where she is, but if you would hold on, I’ll forward you to her cell.” There was a brief moment of silence, then a click as the phone was transferred.
“Yes?”
“Sam? It’s Lincoln. I just finished talking to Taylor. She asked me to give you a call. You are never in a million years going to guess what happened when I ran the dental records.”
“Yeah, sure, Lincoln. You got a match. Now tell me what’s really going on.”
“No, Sam, seriously, we got a match.”