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Lauren went to the open van door, reached into a lab container, lifted out the zippered plastic bag holding the hand and held it up.
Holly took the bag by a corner and rotated it slowly. “This girl is thinner than the one we found,” she said. “Longer fingers and the skin is freckled.”
“I’ll get that to Hurd,” she said. “He’s back at the office.”
“Taller, too, I’d guess; it’s a pretty long hand.”
“Right.”
“And look at this,” Holly said, pointing at where the hand had been severed, a couple of inches above.
“Something cut it clean,” Lauren said. “Maybe an axe?”
Holly rotated the bag a hundred and eighty degrees. “No. Same cut on the bottom. Something cut from both directions at once. Bolt cutter, maybe.”
“The guy carries around bolt cutters?”
“It’s the sort of thing you might find in a police car,” Holly pointed out. “You found the hand in the trunk?”
“Yes. It was under the carry-on, next to the purse.”
“Was there any blood?”
“A drop or two. Terry took a sample of the carpet.”
“Good.” Holly placed the bag with the hand back in the container. “Have you had a look around the marina yet?”
“No. Hurd left immediately after we found the hand, and I haven’t had a chance yet.”
Terry walked up and shucked off his gloves. “I’m done here,” he said. “You can have the car towed now.” He began to put his equipment back into the van.
Holly looked around to see a flatbed truck coming down the road. “Make sure the driver is gloved,” she said.
Lauren went to speak with the man, and Holly walked around the rental car. She didn’t see anything new.
Lauren came back. “You want to work the marina with me?” she asked.
“Sure,” Holly replied. “Let’s see if we can find the boat.” They walked across the parking lot and down the dock, then down the hinged ramp to the pontoons. “Let’s look for a small boat with one or more outboards. You take the south end; I’ll start from the north, and we can work our way back here.”
The women separated and began to examine the small boats moored there. Holly was nearly back to the ramp when Lauren called out.
“Come take a look at this,” she yelled.
Holly trotted down the dock to where Lauren stood, looking into a Boston Whaler, a flat-bottomed runabout of about eighteen feet, with a 75-hp Japanese outboard engine. She walked along the dock for the length of the boat, then back. “Looks pretty ordinary,” she said. “What caught your eye?”
“The keys are in it,” Lauren said, pointing to the ignition under the wheel.
“I missed that,” Holly said. “Good going.”
“If the owner habitually leaves the key in the ignition, then anybody could have taken it.”
“You’d better get that Forensics guy back here,” Holly said. “This boat is going to need a good going over.”
Lauren got on her cell phone just as a young man in shorts, a polo shirt and a baseball cap walked up.
“Can I help you ladies?” he asked politely.
Lauren held up her badge as she talked.
