“No. Death in these cases is not from total blood loss, but from the physiological consequences of a massive, sudden drop in pressure. Severe hemorrhagic shock means her brain was deprived of necessary oxygen. It’s likely she lost consciousness within seconds. Twenty to thirty, at the higher end. Come on.” She turns toward the car and signals for us to follow. “Vic was sitting in the driver’s seat, windows down, when her attacker approached her from the outside. I think your perp is left-handed, and that they approached the car from behind. I doubt sheexperienced more than a second or two of fear before it was all over. Ironically, a complete severance, as opposed to an incomplete laceration or puncture wound, could’ve resulted in what we call vasospasm, which is where the artery retracts into the surrounding tissue and slows bleeding.” She points to the steering wheel, sticky with thick blood. “It appears Josey’s hands were on the wheel at the moment of severance, falling away when she became unconscious. Inconsistent spray patterns prove this is where she began.”
“But she’s curled in the passenger seat now,” Drake rumbles. “Which tells us… what?”
“That this is our secondary scene, not our death scene. Perp sliced her open, waited for her to die, unsnapped her seatbelt, and shoved her across to the passenger seat, then they climbed in and drove her out here.”
“Means they sat in Josey’s blood,” I grit out. “Not just a few stray drops, Chief. They sat in an entire puddle. Are there prints on the steering wheel?”
“You’ll need further testing for an official determination, but no.” She meets my eyes, bringing her hand up and shielding herself from the sun. “I see no obvious prints.”
“Gloves?”
She nods. Silent, sharp, to the point.
“Makes this premeditated,” Drake inserts. “Not just a crime of opportunity where a killer thought taking a swipe could be fun. They targeted her specifically.”
“I concur. When you speak to her loved ones and find out where she was meant to be at TOD, you might find your primary death scene.”
“Have you determined TOD?”
“Yes. Although outside temperatures, an overnight stay, and insect infestation make determining the time of death more difficult, I estimate she died between seven and nine o’clock last night. I’m leaning closer to seven.”
Frowning, Drake comes closer, his shoulder stopping in line with mine. “If our perp hunted her down, slit her throat, pushed her into the passenger seat, and drove her out here to…” He trails off for a beat. “Delay discovery, probably, that implies our primary scene is somewhere with much more foot or vehicular traffic. So, how’d they get back to town?” He drops his gaze to the ground. “If someone picked them up, then we have co-conspirators. If they caught a cab, those records are easy enough to grab, and our killer’s blood-soaked clothes would’ve made them conspicuous as hell.”
“Public buses don’t come this far out,” I add. “And I see no obvious skid marks leading away from here. Even if they walked back to town, they’d have left a trail of blood the whole way.”
“Unless they came prepared,” Drake counters. “Spare clothes, and a garbage bag for a messy set. Officer Clay?” He twists on his heels and brings both Clay and Fletch around. As they approach, he tips his chin toward the uniforms who first arrived on scene. “We’re gonna need the road from here to town scoured. Every single inch. We’re looking for the things our killer might’ve discarded: clothes, a knife, gloves, probably. Shoes, maybe. If they were as organized as they seem, they might’ve already had a hidey hole set up.”
“If they planned on dumping her here specifically, it’s possible they left a ride a little further along this stretch of road,” Minka adds. “They knew the steps before they began, and they knew they’d need distance and a chance to peel their layers off. By the time they dumped their stuff and arrived at their car, they could’ve been in a fresh outfit and completely inconspicuous to anyone who might’ve driven by.”
“I don’t see a phone.” Aubree lowers her camera and reveals glittering blue eyes. “Josey’s eighteen, right? Just out of high school, ready for college. No one between the ages of twelve and sixty is without a cell these days.”
“Might be under her,” Minka rumbles. “Could be in a pocket, or under the seat.”
“Or her killer took it. As a trophy?” Aubree ponders. “As a way for her family not to track her? I see no purse either. No wallet. No jewelry. It could almost look like a robbery gone bad, except I don’t…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t feel like one.”
“Nah, it’s personal,” Fletch agrees. “I could believe it was a robbery with the knife. Approaching the car.Mayyyybeeven pushing her out of the driver’s seat, because they were tossing her things and checking her pockets. But sitting in her blood? Driving her out here?” He sets his hands on his hips. “Nope.”
I bring my focus back to Minka. “You need help getting her out of the car?”
“Nah. Her mother has already reported her missing, which means she’s expecting bad news. You need to get over there before the media does. Aubs and I will get her out, then we’ll process the scene and transport her back to the George Stanley. Figuring out the cause and manner of death is easy. Figuring out the who and why is going to be a lot harder.”
“Yeah.” I pinch the hem of her jacket between my thumb and finger fora moment. A gentle rub. A touchstone until next time. “Alright. I’ll make the call and have the car towed for evidence. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”
“I’ll provide you with my preliminary report before close of business, detectives.” She takes a single step away, stealing what little touch I could manage with unfriendly eyes watching on, then she glances to Banks. Clay. Fletch. “Good to see so many of Copeland’s finest show up for Josey.”
“Mmm. We sure make a great team.” My gritted words bring Minka’s brows up in surprise, but then I turn on my heels and start back toward my car. “Let’s get the transcripts from the Rhodes’ 911 call. We’ll also reach out to the officer who spoke to Josey’s mom last night.” I glance over my shoulder and find Drake a mere half a foot behind, just like I knew I would, and behind him, Fletch and Clay follow. Stopping by my cruiser and facing them all, I draw a fortifying breath and crack my neck. Left. Right. “I’m under strict orders to work this one with Banks.” Just saying his name feels like razor blades on my tongue. “So while we speak to the mom, you two need to coordinate a search of the road from here to town.”
“We’ve got it.” Fletch scrubs a hand over his face. “We’ll stay in contact.”
“Thanks.” I spin on my heels and start toward the driver’s side door. “Let’s go, Banks.”
“Wait, Arch.” Fletch jumps forward, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me to a stop. While Banks moves one way, and Clay folds himself into the crowd of uniforms already on scene, Fletch lowers his voice and grumbles, “Tell me this isn’t an official reassignment. I’m begging you.”
“It’s not official yet.”
“It’s not like I have a problem with Clay or anything. He’s a cool kid, but…”
“Yeah. I get it.” I scratch the back of my neck. IfeelBanks’ stare warming my skin. “Fabian’s testing us.”
