Page 88 of Rage

We fall silent, our brains grinding through all the broken pieces of information.

“Tomasetti, everything about this case is … off-kilter,” I say. “There are a lot of connections, but none of them seem to actually connect. It’s like there’s something there, hiding in plain sight, and the harder we look the more elusive it becomes.”

Scowling, he scrubs a hand over his jaw, looks at me over his fingertips. “Look, Doc is getting ready to move her. He says we can go in. He’ll give us what he can.”

The last thing I want to do is wade through that snarl of bramble to see the dead body of a young woman I spoke with less than twenty-four hours ago. But as is usually the case with any homicide investigation, information takes precedence over petty human comforts.

Tomasetti walks over to the crime scene tape, lifts it, and waits. My feet feel as if they’re encased in concrete as I duck beneath it. We fight through stickers and thorns and find Doc Coblentz kneeling next to the corpse. He’s wearing a Tyvek suit, his head, feet, and hands covered. He looks up when we approach and I notice the redness suffusing his cheeks, see the dribble of sweat on his temple.

“Hi, Chief.” He nods. “Tomasetti.”

The body of Wilma Borntrager lies supine on a plastic sheet that’s been placed beside the body bag that’s unzipped and waiting. Her face is pale and slack with the vague hint of blue veins beneath the skin. Both eyes are open and covered with the cloudy film of death. Someone has placed paper bags over both hands and secured them with rubber bands.

“Anything you can share?” Tomasetti asks.

“I think it’s safe to assume this is a homicide,” Doc says.

“We saw the gunshot wound.” I’m looking at him, but I’m hyperaware of the body. The cloudy eyes. The incessant drone of flies all around. The vaguely unpleasant smell of blood and bodily secretions.

“As both of you are well aware,” Doc begins, “any information I relay to you at this juncture is subject to change once we perform the autopsy.”

“Of course,” I hear myself say.

He looks down at the body. “From what I can tell, there are actually two penetrating wounds, presumably gunshot wounds.” Using a long, cotton-tipped swab, Doc indicates the gunshot wound on the victim’s abdomen. “This is likely an exit wound,” he says. “Don’t quote me on that.”

“They shot her in the back,” I murmur.

Nodding, Doc shifts the swab to a red-black hole above and in front of the victim’s ear. “This was likely the fatal wound. You missed it initially because there was less bleeding. And her hair was covering it.”

“Once she was down,” Tomasetti says, “she was shot execution-style.”

“That’s a solid theory at this point,” Doc says.

“They shot her a second time just to be sure.” The words come off my tongue like acid. “Just like Yutzy.”

The coroner nods grimly. “The second gunshot wound likely killed her instantly.”

Not instantly, I think. And I can’t help but wonder how long she’d lain there waiting for the killing shot.

“Sexual assault?” I ask.

“There’s no indication that I can see,” Doc says. “She’s clothed, of course. No blood or bruising or semen that’s visible. Of course, I won’t be able to answer that definitively until we get her on the table.”

“Any other wounds?” Tomasetti asks.

“There’s blood on the fabric at both knees,” Doc tells us. “Some scratches, likely from the stickers and brush. Some bruising, but no other penetrating wounds that I can discern at this time.”

“She got away from them,” I say. “She ran. The killer came after her and shot her in the back. She was still moving so the son of a bitch finished her off with a shot to the head.”

“I won’t be able to answer the medical aspect of that definitively until post-autopsy,” Doc Coblentz says. “But yes.”

I try not to think of the horrors this young woman must have endured during the final minutes of her life. With that torturous thought in mind, I turn and start back toward my vehicle.

CHAPTER 22

I call Mona on my way to Millersburg. “Anything else come back on Brooks?”

“Plenty.” A flurry of keyboard clicks and then, “On the weapons charge, he took a plea deal. Felony was dropped. He pleaded guilty to the misdemeanor of possessing criminal tools. He paid court fines of five hundred dollars. Jail time was suspended. He was ordered to perform thirty hours of community service.”