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I flip through the binder in search of a list of evidence found at the crime scene but can’t find one. This is a problem. I can’t send the evidence to the lab to be retested until I know exactly which items to send. I’m sure it’s somewhere within the files, but where? I get up and grab a second binder and flip through it. This one holds the medical examiner’s report and Eve’s autopsy photos.
I take a deep breath and try to fully enter my cop state of mind. Unemotional, analytical, unfazed. I open the binder to the first page.
DECEDENT: Eve Marie Knox
Autopsy Authorized by: Dr. Felicia Waller
Saturday, December 23, 1995
Identified by: Henry Kennedy, Grotto Police Department
I never knew that my dad was the one to identify Eve’s body. I never really thought about it, but it makes sense. I couldn’t see Eve’s mother being capable of doing it, Nola was much too young and as far as I knew there was no other family.
Rigor: present
Livor: red
Distribution: posterior
Age: 15
Race: White
Sex: Female
Length: 60 inches
Weight: 57 kilograms
Eyes: Green
Hair: Red
As I read through the reports it becomes clear that Eve died a long, painful death. According to the pathologist, Eve had a broken wrist, a skull fracture resulting in significant swelling of the brain and dozens of contusions. There was also indication of ligature strangulation.
The doctor determined that the time of Eve’s death was between 4:00 and 9:00 p.m., give or take. The plunging temperatures that day made it difficult to pinpoint the exact time of death.
The last time Eve was seen was by Nola at around three thirty at their home just before Nola left to go visit her mother at work. Eve could have been lying there on the edge of death for hours.
Nola stayed with her mother at the motel, watching TV in the rooms her mother cleaned until six and arrived at the public library at six fifteen. The librarian backed up Nola’s account, even providing documentation that Nola checked out several books that evening and stayed there until eight. Nola then walked home where her mother was waiting for her. Eve was nowhere to be found.
I flip through the files. They found tree sap on Eve’s hands but not much else. Nola’s clothing was taken and examined. Hair consistent with Eve’s was found, but that isn’t surprising; they were sisters, lived in the same home. There was no evidence of Eve’s blood found on Nola’s clothes.
I go back to the report and continue reading. It also chronicled the state of Eve’s clothing. She was wearing a coat, jeans and a turtleneck sweater. Testing back in 1996 showed the blood found on Eve’s clothing belonged to Eve. No other physical evidence—semen or hair—was found.
I move to the autopsy photographs but can’t stand looking at them except for a cursory glance. Instead I return to the crime scene photos.
The next several pictures were taken from the same distance away but using a zoom lens focused on Eve’s body. She’s lying on her back, arms at her side as if in the midst of making a snow angel, except for the crimson pillow of congealed blood beneath her head.
When I’ve looked at them all I realize that my face is wet with tears. I’ve had enough for today.
I reach for my phone and besides missing a half a dozen calls from Shaun, I’m surprised to see that it’s just about five o’clock.
I call Shaun back and say I’m sorry before he even says hello. “I didn’t see your texts,” I say.
“I was worried. You missed your doctor appointment. We were supposed to meet there at four,” he says, his voice tight with irritation.
“Dammit,” I say. “I completely forgot. I came back to work to follow up on a few things and time got away from me. I’m sorry.”
