Page 13 of Only Girl Alive

The polygamist community was three hours away from the nearest crime lab. Waiting on forensic specialists was out of the question. Her team’s experience and advanced certifications eliminated that need and kept them on a quicker pace.

Eve and Clyde would attend the autopsies as soon as they were scheduled. The others would stay behind and continue processing the scene. Things would unfold each day and plans would change. That was the complex reality of all homicide investigations.

Eve squashed the empty bag that had held her food with a soft pop and took a last sip of soda. She wanted to get back to work.

“You need the county attorney to sign an affidavit for a cell phone record. The father had one in his bedside drawer,” said Clyde.

“I’ll add it to my list and give Aaron the request next time we speak,” Eve replied. “Package the phone and put it in the van’s locker. I don’t want it in police custody.” If the phone held private church information, it would be too easy for it to disappear. Eve would retain control of the device. “If anyone else has something Aaron needs to handle, speak up.”

They smiled as Eve knew they would. Anytime they annoyed her stepbrother it was a win. In the back of Eve’s mind, she was always looking for proof of Aaron’s corruption in the hopes he would one day be removed as county attorney. In all probability it would never happen, but she couldn’t let go of the thought he was involved in fundamentalist illegality up to his eyeballs.

Her phone buzzed and she checked the screen. It was a text from the medical examiner’s office. They were twenty minutes out.

“We know they had to have been drugged. Food or liquid would be my guess,” Ray said after Eve shared the news. “I’ve gone through the garbage and taken food samples. I’ll lock them in the van.” Tamm had arranged a lab tech to retrieve samples each day. It saved Eve’s team time, and, with only five of them, they needed everyone working the scene. Those samples would prove their supposition about a sedative and they needed the results as soon as possible.

“I’ll get Tamm to schedule the autopsies,” Eve said, and made the call.

“Special Investigations Unit, Tamm speaking.”

Eve didn’t say hello. “We’re ready to move forward. Four autopsies. Jump us in front of everyone you can. Three adults and one child with their throats cut. We need answers. If George is available, I want him.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Tamm hung up. Neither of them wasted words when they were in work mode. Eve lowered her phone and glanced at her team.

“I’m ready to process the bodies.”

Nine

Eve grabbed her personal forensic bag from the van. Her team had positioned markers for photographs. They would collect and label all evidence samples after the photos were taken. Then, Eve would process the bodies alone.

Her team understood. Since their first polygamist case where a nineteen-year-old seventh wife was beaten to death by her elderly husband in front of his wives and children, Eve took the community deaths personally. When she’d processed the woman’s body and saw the faded bruises and broken bones she’d lived with, Eve broke down in front of the team. The circumstances brought too many of Eve’s childhood memories to the surface.

She felt conflicted with so many things. She believed adults had every right to follow whatever lifestyle they chose as long as it conformed to the law of the land. But were there really choices within the fundamentalist community? The children were indoctrinated from birth, given no glimpse of the outside world, and taught to fear it.

When Eve thought like this, her mother’s mistakes, which placed Eve in the arms of the cult, angered her. Maggie was weak and maybe that was why their relationship had floundered. Forgiving her mother was something therapy encouraged. This was one of the reasons Eve had stopped going in her late teens after she had decided on becoming an officer. Eve did not believe she should suffer because of the sins of her mother, but she did. Forgiveness was something offered by the god you believed in and didn’t need to come from victims or survivors.

Eve slowly inhaled to clear the past. She entered the home and located the first marker. This was what drove her. They would find who did this brutal crime and that person would pay under the rules of justice. No one expected the justice system to forgive, so why should she?

Clyde stayed by her side with the photo log. She would say the placard number aloud followed by a brief description of what she was photographing. Clyde wrote down the information and marked the time the photograph was taken. He would then place his initials in the appropriate box to show he logged the written photo evidence to match the image. Eve’s name would appear at the top of each sheet as the photographer. They’d done this many times together, which gave them a familiarity that made the job smoother.

Eve didn’t miss the warmth in Clyde’s eyes when she called out the first number. Their deep friendship had turned into something more. She’d never felt this way about another man. From his sense of justice to his calm presence no matter the circumstances, he was a positive influence in her life. He never expected something she couldn’t give. When the squad first came together, she hesitated at seeing him outside of work like they had done for years. She had suddenly been cast into the role of his supervisor. He didn’t say a word or seem upset when she turned down his offers to dinner. As with their friendship, their new relationship happened slowly. Seeing each other at the gym turned into sharing conversations over coffee.

She was the one who touched his arm in an overly familiar way and Clyde took the next step and held her hand. It hadn’t progressed much further than that but they both knew what was happening.

Today he wore his usual black cargo pants and black long-sleeved department work shirt that had the state police logo and his title and last name embroidered on his chest. Yes, she noticed how he filled out the clothes he wore. She also knew how it made her feel when he looked at her like he was doing now.

Wanted. Appreciated. Cherished. Not just for the fact she was a woman but for her investigative skills, her leadership ability, and her tenacity. He wasn’t threatened by her and she was beginning to see a future that included him on an intimate level.

She wanted to know more personal things about him. Was he naturally bald or did he shave his head? Most of all she liked him working by her side and it was time to stop thinking about him and get the difficult job in front of them started.

She held extra numbered placards in her pocket in case either of them saw something not yet identified as evidence that the team may have missed. They all knew to check over each other’s shoulder; it was something Clyde had taught them.

In the master bedroom, her team had tagged two photographs, located in the same drawer with the phone. The first picture showed Bart Tanner standing with three women to either side of him, six total, and seven children standing in front. Eve identified Marcella, Tracy, and Elijah. She wasn’t sure about Hannah. There were two girls who looked similar in age, maybe eight. Then she glanced at the next photograph.

This one showed Bart, Marcella, Tracy, Elijah, and a young girl who had to be the missing ten-year-old. Eve was now able to pick her out of the first photo easily. She and Elijah appeared about two years younger than they were now. Bart stood directly behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Hannah and her mothers had nearly identical front-swooped hair. The indoctrination began young. Hannah wore a closed-lip smile like the two women. She could tell nothing from Hannah’s or the women’s expressions. It bothered Eve that she hadn’t made contact with the child. She was the only person left alive and she might know if one of her previous mothers could possibly have committed the murders.

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