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“Did you call Ashley?” she asked.
He thrust his fingers into his hair. “I should, but… Man, I keep thinking this will all go away.”
“Maybe it won’t turn out to be a body.”
“Sure. That’s why they’ve been in there for—” he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time “—almost forty-five minutes.”
Had it really been that long? Heartsick, Beth gazed at the garage and tried not to imagine what was happening in there. The ridiculous attraction she’d felt for the man who might this minute be examining her mother’s dead body? There could be any number of explanations. She latched onto heatstroke. That was as rational as anything else.
* * *
TONY WATCHED AS Jess and Larry eased the contorted remains away from the constricted space between the two-by-fours, wrapping as they went to keep it as intact as possible, using the open black body bag as a tarp to be sure they didn’t lose anything that fell out with the body—or off the body—some of which was down to bones. He couldn’t look away.
Like most cops, he’d seen his share of dead people. Vehicular accidents could do hideous things to a human being. Domestic violence, strangling, gunshots, he’d seen the effects of all of them. None compared to these remains that were more disturbing by a long shot than finding only bones.
He’d seen photographs of Egyptian mummies, unwrapped to display withered brown flesh. He’d even read about a couple of cases where deaths had gone unnoticed until someone found a mummified body sitting in front of a television.
None of that had prepared him for the reality.
Once they had begun cutting the wallboard to remove it, he’d locked the door and taped coverings over both the window and the pane of glass in the door. He hated the idea that any of this woman’s children would ever see so much as a photograph of what she looked like now.
That was assuming this was Christine Marshall, but he didn’t have a lot of doubt. Missing woman? Body found in the same house? As his own father used to say, it didn’t take a rocket scientist.
This woman was petite. If she’d been any bigger, she couldn’t have been squeezed into such a narrow space. Even so, the angle of the feet—skeletal except for some gristle—suggested the killer had broken her ankles to make her flat enough to cover with wallboard.
The blond hair was suggestive, too, as were her teeth. They didn’t look like a young woman’s, displaying a number of metal fillings on molars and at least one crown. She still wore a polyester blouse that was apparently indestructible, as were nylon panties. No trousers, shoes or socks. His guess was that she’d been killed as she started to get dressed, maybe after sex. She could have been surprised from behind.
Jess and Larry laid the bag and body on the cement floor. She stood, staring down in pity and the horrified fascination Tony suspected was on his own face.
Crouching beside the dead woman, Larry shook his head. “I don’t know whether the ME can deal with a body in this condition, or whether we’ll have to hunt down a forensic anthropologist.”
“Morgue van on the way?” Tony asked.
Jess glanced at him. “Yes. It’ll mean opening the big door, you know.”
He did. So far, they’d shuttled whatever they needed from the van to the side door, hoping to avoid awakening too much interest from neighbors. What they’d found wouldn’t stay a secret for any length of time, though.
“Once that’s done, I’ll go talk to the family again. Get her dentist’s name.”
“Bitch of a scene,” Jess said sympathetically.
“No shit.” And it was barely the beginning of the investigation.
CHAPTER THREE
MATT DEPARTED FIRST, which didn’t surprise Tony. Figured he’d leave his sister holding the bag. It was clear he and his father didn’t get along—maybe didn’t even speak. Tony wondered how Beth had talked him into helping with the great garage cleanup.
Something else had occurred to Tony, too. Matt would have been nearly an adult when his mother disappeared. Seventeen or eighteen. He’d have towered over her. What if he’d come home unexpectedly and caught her with a lover, say? Words could have exploded into rage.
