Page 7 of 1st Shock
"Nothing remarkable," Dr. Gentry says, as if this whole Godforsaken thing is mundane. In her world, maybe it is so I stay quiet while she continues. "The rest of her, aside from a surgical screw in her knee, is free of injury."
Knee surgery. On the table in front of me are the skeletal remains of a young woman, possibly late teens to early twenties, with good teeth, found dressed in what some might consider fairly expensive athletic clothes and a fitness watch.
"My thought is she's a runner. Maybe not wealthy, but not poor either. A college student or millennial, out for a run. She's targeted by someone, more than likely a man—or very strong woman—who had enough strength to break a bone in her neck."
"That about sums it up."
"Which means," I say, "we only have to narrow her down from the other seventy thousand white, college-aged females in the D.C. area."
No wonder JJ, the Emperor of Cold Cases, brought Avery to us.
4
Charlie
Approximately four thousand unidentified bodies are recovered each year in the United States. Of those, one-fourth remain so after a year. Today, when I check NamUs—the National Missing and Unidentified Missing Persons database—there are over twelve thousand cases. The numbers are staggering and it's only getting worse.
JJ has already entered the new UIP case into the federal system, populating NGI, the FBI's Next Generation Identification database, as well as UNT, the Texas University whose lab specializes in DNA analysis, along with a dozen more. Not surprisingly, no matches have been found. In my head, I hear Meg say,"It’s too new. Give it another twenty-four hours. Something will pop up."
Wish I had her optimism.
I sent a DNA collection kit with Meg to give Dr. Gentry. At least those are free, thanks to funding from the National Institute of Justice. It's a big if, butifI can get the Center for Human Identification at UNT to bump this case to the forefront, they’ll run an analysis and confirm cause of death, which could help us solve the case. Of course, they'll need a reason to put it ahead of all the others, but I have JJ in my back pocket. He didn't bring us that skull to see it end up in a closet somewhere. What I need is a good lead, evidence that makes this high-profile.
My first call of the morning goes to the detective in charge of the case. The victim is UI and we're assuming it was a homicide. It goes to voicemail and I leave a message, offering lunch in exchange for information. No doubt, he has plenty of open cases stacked on his desk, crimes, homicides, and a lovely assortment of crap, demanding his constant attention. I know Ritter loves food though since I've worked with him before. He isn't one to turn down a free meal.
I pull out a red folder and label it Case UIP281. Organization is important, especially in this office where there are too many open files, and multiple people working each one. I attach a sheet on the left side, and another, similar to a chain of custody for evidence, on the other. The latter tracks communication, rather than physical evidence, between all the parties and reminds me who is responsible for what as we proceed.
I already have five players: JJ, Meg, Detective Ritter, Dr. Gentry, and myself. From the outer office comes the sound of the fax machine spitting something out. Methodically, I work through our standard intake form for new clients, inserting JJ as the contact person, and UNKNOWN for the name of our vic. I know more about the U.S. district attorney than the girl; her demographic data—age, height, weight, etc., remains a solid wall of blanks.
Matt breezes in my door, carrying a large white coffee cup from my favorite shop and a paper from the fax machine. He's dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a casual dark blue jacket. His hair is a couple weeks past needing a trim and light brown bangs fall across his forehead. He sets the cup on my desk and drops into the chair, ready for our meeting. "Three shots of espresso, one cream, just the way you like it."
I thank him and peel off the lid, scanning the fax. Detective Ritter has sent me a hand-written detail sheet, probably because I dropped JJ's name in my voicemail, or maybe his wife has him on a new diet. Unfortunately, the details are circumstantial and slim. Late teens/early twenties, clothing intact, neck fracture. A watch was found with the victim. If it was a robbery gone bad, why didn't they take that? I realize this will slide to the bottom of the detective's cases, if it hasn’t already.
The smell of coffee is so good I close my eyes for a second and inhale deeply before blowing on the liquid and taking a sip. I tuck the paper into the folder. Once Meg returns and I find out what she discovered at the coroner's, I’ll add those tidbits of info into the national database entry. "Did you buy the ring?"
Matt shoots me his trademark "Mad Dog" grin, his eyes peering from under the bangs. "I'm going to let her pick her own. Safer that way."
He keeps finding excuses not to propose to his girlfriend, Taylor. "Chicken."
The grin fades and he throws up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know what she’d like, and I don't want to get it wrong. She's...you know..."
The coffee makes me feel halfway alive. I sip more. "Picky?"
"Choosy," he amends. "This is, like, the biggest thing I've ever done, Charlie. Call me chicken all you want, but I have a good reason to be scared of this woman. She's even more of a hardass than you."
So he believes.
I understand where he’s coming from. Taylor is an FBI agent, and a damn good one. Missing Persons is her jam, just like mine and Meg's. "Two carats minimum, square cut, platinum band. It's not that hard, Matt."
"Square? I was thinking pear-shaped. Or maybe round."
I wiggle the pink topaz on my left hand. It's not an engagement ring, and I really shouldn't wear it, but I was feeling a bit sappy this morning after a sleepless night, thanks to dreams about JJ. Just talking about proposals and marriage makes me squirm. I try not to glance at the square gemstone—the only thing JJ’s ever given me—but my sappiness betrays me, and I find my gaze slipping to the ring. It’s a promise things will work out for me, for us. Most days, I don’t believe JJ will ever make good on it.
Dammit. I need more coffee.
I need to throw the ring away.
"Taylor wears a square diamond pendant necklace when she dresses up." I clear my throat, set down the coffee. "The diamond studs she never takes out of her ears are also square." Squares and cubes are solid, balanced. Often, people who’ve been through trauma are drawn to that type of geometry. It is a foundation, a structure, support. Something you can lean on, build a relationship on. "I've never seen her wear much else in jewelry, so you want to keep it clean, no extra diamonds on the band or anything froufrou. Keep it understated and classy. Let the diamond be big and do the talking."
