“So . . . you’re saying what . . . ?” Tracy leaned over the table to demonstrate as she spoke. “She was on the ground, facedown, and a car came down on top of her, then went over her?”
“I’d say she was on the ground,” Rosa said, “and she tried to cover up to protect herself, which is why the bruising is on the right side of her back and shoulder. That would be the natural instinct.”
“So the bruising on her forearms isn’t necessarily from impacts with rocks and boulders. It could have been from the impact with a car.”
“Could have been,” Rosa said.
Tracy sat back. “How sure are you?”
Rosa gave it a moment of thought. “That she was hit by a car? Ninety to ninety-five percent. That all the injuries are attributable to a car and not the river? Not as certain.”
Tracy slowed the conversation. Her mind was spinning with questions. “So you’re saying she was run over, but she was still alive when she went into the water.”
“Correct.”
“Given the nature of her injuries, could she have walked to the river on her own?”
“Highly unlikely,” Rosa said, “but I don’t know the distance we’re talking about.”
“Considerable,” Tracy said.
“Not very likely. In fact, I’d say no way.”
“So the only way she could have made it to the water would have been if somebody carried her there.”
“That would be my theory.” Rosa turned to Gabriel. “Do you agree?”
“I do,” he said. “And here’s another thing to maybe consider. If she’d been capable of walking to the river on her own, I would have expected her to have had the physical capability to protect herself as she went downriver, and I don’t see that was the case, at least not from what’s in this report.”
“What do you mean?” Tracy asked. “What would you have expected to see?”
“What we discussed earlier—scratches and abrasions on her forearms and hands as she tried to protect herself,” Gabriel said. “Also, the coroner’s report noted that the body was found with both shoes on and that she was still wearing her coat.”
“Why is that significant?”
“If a body is found in the river missing both shoes and articles of clothing, it’s usually an indication the person was fighting for their life and still had clarity. One of the first things a person will do is remove clothing weighing them down.”
Tracy looked again to Rosa. “Assuming she was hit by a car, in your opinion were those injuries life-threatening? Would she have died from them?”
“It would have depended on how much time passed before she received medical attention. And remember, this was 1976 and in a remote area that didn’t have a trauma center,” Rosa said. “Bottom line, the longer she lay there, the more likely she wouldn’t have survived. But if you’re asking me could she have survived had she received immediate medical attention, I’d say yes. I think she would have.”
CHAPTER 19
Tracy remained alone at the table, feeling light-headed, in a fog that had nothing to do with the beer; she hadn’t finished her one glass. She needed a moment alone to consider what Rosa and Gabriel had told her and to consider it in conjunction with what she knew. Kimi Kanasket had been run over, almost certainly in the clearing in the woods. That’s what Buzz Almond had suspected. That’s why he’d taken all those photographs, why the ground was chewed up. She was kicking herself for not having kept copies of the photographs, or at least the negatives, before she gave the packets to Kaylee Wright, and now she had the irrational fear that Wright had somehow lost them.
She recalled at least three photographs of the damage to Tommy Moore’s white truck, but she couldn’t recall if those photographs captured the tires, or only the damage to the hood and front right fender.
She tried Wright’s cell phone, but the call went straight to voice mail. She left a message and tried the King County Sheriff’s Office, but she was having trouble hearing over the increasingly animated crowd at the Elysian. She put a finger in her ear to cut down the ambient noise.
“She’s where?”
“Tacoma,” the woman on the phone said. “She’s working a missing-person case.”
“She’s back from Germany already?” Tracy said.
“That would appear to be the case,” the woman said.
Tracy left a voice-mail message on Wright’s desk phone. Until Wright called her back, Tracy would just have to be patient, which wasn’t one of her better-developed character traits.
She gathered her purse and the materials Rosa and Gabriel had left her. As she stood to leave, her cell phone rang. She hoped it was Wright, but when she checked caller ID she got that terrible sick feeling that accompanied the realization she was supposed to be someplace and had completely forgotten.
“Dan,” she said, answering.
“Hey. I’m at your house. Where are you?”
“I’m sorry. I got tied up. I’m on my way.”
“I can hardly hear you.”
“I was just in a meeting,” she said, trying to navigate the crowd to get outside and escape the noise.
“This late? Sounds like you’re in a bar.”
“I’m done. I’ll explain when I get there. I’m on my way.”
“Maybe I should just go?”
“No. I’m on my way. Just let yourself in.” She disconnected and hurried to her truck.
It was drizzling by then, and traffic was heavy getting to the freeway because of some construction. On I-5, traffic remained heavy all the way to the off-ramp for the West Seattle Bridge. She tried to think of grocery stores along the way to buy something to cook, but nothing was leaping to the forefront of her mind and, given how late she was, she thought it best to not keep Dan waiting any longer than she already had. A mental inventory of her refrigerator contents consisted of a carton of milk, cottage cheese, yogurt, condiments, and various serving containers from leftover takeout.
As she turned down her street, the drizzle had become a steady rain. Dan’s Tahoe was parked at the curb outside her gated front patio, and Tracy saw that Dan remained sitting in the driver’s seat. She parked in the garage and went back outside, using her jacket as a makeshift umbrella to deflect the rain. Dan lowered his window.
“Why are you sitting in the car?”
“The combination to the gate isn’t working,” he said, sounding irritated.
Tracy had a second sinking feeling. “I’m sorry. I changed it again.” She’d been obsessive about changing the combination since a stalker had assaulted her inside her house.
“Maybe I should just head back to Cedar Grove,” Dan said. “I really should make sure Sherlock and Rex are okay. I told the dog sitter I’d be home tonight.”
“Don’t do that. Please.”
“We’ve both had a long week. Maybe this isn’t a good night.”
“It is, Dan. I got a late phone call from Kelly Rosa about the case in Stoneridge. I met her for a beer to discuss it. I’m sorry. I . . .”
“Forgot,” he said.
“It’s been crazy.” She looked up at the sky. Water was dripping down her back. “Can we get out of the rain?”