Page 13 of What's Left of Us

When I reach the dirt road, I turn back and study the house. From this angle it’s more familiar, and I didn’t catch it at first because it’s a little different from the drawing itself. Tearing off my gloves I open my phone, scrolling until I find the pictures I took of Alastair’s cell walls.

There.One of the drawings is just of a rooftop framed by tall trees but what draws my attention to the image is the slight details below the slopes of the roof, and I stare at the image before holding my phone up to compare.

On the drawing there’s a J near the slope of the roof, something I thought he added because of Jo. But maybe J stands for James, not Jo. If Alastair drew a house like this before his abduction, he’s at least seen it once before.

By the time Briggs arrives on scene they’ve uncovered more remains to look at in the backyard. He spends time analyzing where the body is, documenting all the details I would read about later.

I don’t even end up going back out to look at the bones; I meet Briggs hours later because I’m busy trying to alert my team of all the new developments. By the time I make it to his office, he’s already spent the time to have the bones documented and brought carefully back to be examined.

“Agent Gideon,” he says, leading me back into his space. I let Jensen go back to help Tyler go over everything found at theNunes’ and we already have Soto looking into everything she can on our two missing people. After seeing what else they found on scene, I’m not hopeful that we’ll find either alive. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”

“Let’s hear it,” I say, rubbing my eyes. This is one of those days that doesn’t feel like it has an ending, and after cataloging the contents of the house we just kept finding more and more evidence.

From what Jensen told me after helping to preserve the scene, they found one intact skeleton and the bones of severed hands elsewhere. If that’s the case, there could be more involved with the Nunes' old house than we expected.

“This poor fellow never stood a chance,” Briggs says with a sigh, leading me over to the examination table. There’s a complete skeleton on one, and on another table there’s just two hands and nothing else. “The conditions weren’t ideal for preserving the bones, but your team did a good job helping ensure that what remains of our skeletal friend got back here intact.”

“What do we know about him?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“I already went ahead and sent for an expedited examination of the DNA collected from the bones,” Briggs explains. “We’ll rush it and hopefully be able to ID both victims sooner rather than later.”

“Do you think it could be James Nunes?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, Agent Gideon,” he says, giving me a wry look. “We’ll get our answers as quickly as we can. What’s interesting about these two victims is the way they seem to have died.”

My eyes drift to the hands, and truly I just want to know if they are connected to the body Porscha used to fake her death. They’re nothing but a pile of bones now, but that was sixteenyears ago now. The handsshouldbe in a different state than the body originally was.

“Our victim here was a male, mid to late twenties, standing at roughly five-foot-ten,” Briggs says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Given the state of the bones and the conditions they were in, I’m estimating the DOD to be roughly thirty to thirty-five years ago.”

I purse my lips. “Thoughts on the COD?”

Briggs nods, pushing up his glasses with the back of his wrist before moving towards the head. “The markings on the back of the skull here indicate that our victim was struck from behind. It left a large divot in the bone.”

He points to a spot, and I lean in to examine it with him. There’s definitely a good size mark on the bone. “It cracked the skull?”

“Indeed,” Briggs says, setting the skull down gently again. “It's substantial enough that I've ruled COD as blunt force trauma. There are no other markings on bones indicating that anything else caused this man to die.”

I blow out a breath. “Five-foot-ten you said? That makes him a little shorter than Porscha. She’s right at six foot.”

“I’m sure Ms. Surwright is at the top of your suspect list since she was staying in the old house,” Briggs explains, rounding the examination table before he moves to the other one. I slide my hands into my pockets and follow as he continues talking. “Perhaps she had something to do with that body, but this I find far more interesting.”

“The hands?” I ask.

He nods before reaching out, indicating the spot where the bone is cut off from the body. “The hand was severed here at the wrist joint. It’s sloppy work, not like the stab wounds Porscha is known for inflicting on victims.”

“She’s not known for removing body parts either,” I remind Briggs.

“There’s that,” he agrees. “This body isn’t as old as our first victim. This victim was most likely female, given the hand size and shape. They were also removed pre-mortem.”

“Before she died?” I ask with a frown. “That indicates a severe amount of torture. It’s personal.”

“I sent this victim's DNA off as well,” Briggs explains. “Without fingerprints it might take a little longer for results, but so far I haven’t found anything in the systems to help us determine who either of the victims were. It’s my understanding that Ms. Soto is working on that on your end.”

I nod. “Do you think these hands match the Jane Doe from sixteen years ago?”

“The woman who was misidentified?” Briggs asks, already making his way across the room. “I’m positive. The markings on both the hands and Jane Doe match. They are the same victim. And this victim did not die at the same time that our John Doe did.”

Following him across the room, I shoot both sets of remains another look. The more Briggs explains, the more questions I have. “How far apart do you think they died?”

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