Page 47 of The Vanishing Wife

Leigh left the drain unscrewed from the shower pan in case the crime scene techs needed to source the evidence. “This isn’t the only bathroom, is it?”

“One of three.” The detective showed off two more bright orange extensions of barbed plastic. “Would you believe me if I told you I found these snakes underneath the kitchen sink? Samuel Thornton may have supplied us with the very tools we needed to prove he killed these girls.”

If only they could prove he had something to do with Elyse’s disappearance. She’d seen how far killers went to keep themselves out of prison firsthand. And if Elyse had gotten too close to exposing Samuel Thornton as the predator he was… It would’ve only been a matter of time before she’d paid the price. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they call ironic.”

They moved on to the next bathroom, snaking the drain, and the next. Neither produced much in the way of evidence other than a few strands of mid-length blond. Seemed Samuel Thornton had a preference for which shower he used, and if the department had DNA samples to compare—such as those taken off the bodies of two teenaged girls—forensics could confirm something both Leigh and Detective Moore already suspected: Their dead man had abducted, raped, and killed two young women in the past year, with a potential third still missing.

“Call your coroner and tell him we’re on our way.” Leigh hefted the evidence bag from the first shower drain, trying to visibly match each strand to their list of victims. “I think we’re about to find out if Saige Fuentes is one of Samuel Thornton’s victims, Detective.”

THIRTY-TWO

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Monday, September 23

10:34 a.m.

Heat had accelerated decomposition of Samuel Thornton’s remains. To the point Leigh might not have recognized him if she hadn’t studied his photo intently in the past few days.

Dark pupils had dilated to the edges of once bright blue color, no longer reacting to light. There was a slightly milky film in both. Blood had settled in the lower extremities due to the positioning of the body in the storage room and gravity and gave Samuel Thornton’s skin a purplish-green tint. No signs the remains had been moved after death. Small impressions formed perfect circles down the man’s sternum. Where the buttons of his shirt had come into contact.

Leigh had the ability to feel for the victims she came across. Put herself in their position and imagine what’d happened to land them on the examination table. But she couldn’t do that now. Not with this victim. Not with this body. “How long ago?”

Baldwin County’s coroner, Beau Pierce, took an oversized breath to match his oversized stature. “Detective Moore clocked the temperature in the storage room already over a hundred degrees an hour ago. Stands to reason it gets a lot hotter in there as the day progresses, which speeds up decomposition.” He rounded the head of the table. “With his size and muscle, plus the heat, rigor mortis develops rapidly, but it wears off between forty-eight to sixty hours. Considering he’s not frozen in his seated position anymore, best estimate I can give you is between two and three days, but the crime lab will be the ones to officially make the call.”

And Elyse had gone missing two days ago.

“I managed to collect a few adult blowflies from the remains at the scene, which tells me he’s been dead more than twenty-four hours,” Pierce said. “I’ll be sending them to the Alabama Department of Forensic Science with the remains for an entomologist to narrow it down.”

“Seems this is going to be a habit between us, Mr. Pierce, but was this victim strangled from the front or the back?” Leigh asked.

Beau Pierce cut his attention to the body. “The back. You see how the bruises perpendicular to the shoulders arc up slightly as they progress to the back of the neck? His killer was either taller than him, the victim was seated as the killer stood above him, or they were in a position of leverage. Such as clinging on to his back.” The coroner took a beat, shaking his head. “We don’t get many strangulations around these parts, but between this fellow and that girl brought in a couple days ago, seems this kind of crime is on the rise.”

Or there was a connection. Revenge. Kill Samuel Thornton in the same manner he’d killed others. It was fitting. A taste of his own medicine, but not something Leigh would ever condone. She preferred her criminals to serve their lives behind bars. To suffer for what they’d done. Not get the easy way out. At least then Detective Moore would have something to show for her loss.

“I noticed there are no finger impressions around his neck as you found on Ruby Davis’s remains,” Detective Moore said. “Is it safe to assume Samuel Thornton was strangled with something else?”

“Good eye, Detective. You’re looking at ligature grooves all around the neck, in addition to some scratches from where the victim attempted to loosen it from around his neck.” He took the end of the pen, following the line of purplish and red bruises across the throat. “I’ll collect fingernail scrapings to be sure, but it’s pretty clear he never saw it coming.”

Elyse would’ve made sure of it. Just as those girls most likely hadn’t seen it coming when Samuel Thornton had killed them. If Elyse was the one behind this.

“Are there any identifiers to tell us who might’ve been responsible for this man’s murder?” Leigh almost didn’t want to know, but whoever had strangled the final breaths from Samuel Thornton had crossed a line. There were rules not even she could break. Even faced with the very man she’d spent her entire life plotting against.

“Not yet.” Beau Pierce turned to one of the rolling metal carts—complete with tools for evidence collection—and handed off a bag holding on to a single Q-tip. “But I did find a dried substance in both of the victim’s nostrils. I’ll have to send the sample along with the remains to the state forensic lab, but it’s possible the killer used some kind of drug or sedative to disorient Mr. Thornton here before strangling him.”

“What kind of drug or sedative is administered nasally?” Detective Moore asked.

“Fentanyl and ketamine are the two that come to mind. Though they are particularly mild compared to a pill or intravenous form. Used to sedate children undergoing surgery because needles can cause more anxiety.” Beau Pierce replaced the sample swab he’d taken on the cart. “I’ve mainly seen them in doctor offices and hospitals.”

“What about an OB/GYN office?” Leigh’s chest tightened at the thought.

Detective Moore raised her gaze to Leigh’s.

“Yes, I imagine they would come in handy in case of emergency.” The coroner didn’t seem to understand the significance of the look between investigators. “Both fentanyl and ketamine are controlled substances. Pharmacies and the government keep track of all legal purchases. If your killer used it to disorient Mr. Thornton before strangling him, the crime lab should be able to trace it back to a purchase.”

“Mr. Pierce, we brought in a bag of hair from the scene. Snaked from the victim’s shower drain.” The mere thought surged acid up Leigh’s throat. “We were hoping you would be able to identify the sources by comparing them to Poppy Slater’s and Ruby Davis’s samples taken in the course of their investigations.”

“I’m afraid that may be above my pay grade, Agent Brody, but I can certainly take a look,” the coroner said. “You believe this gentleman may be connected to the deaths of those girls?”

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