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“I like my own. You opened the plastic wrapping on the top remains.”
“After a full record.”
“Still.”
“You’re not sealed,” Eve said when DeWinter started to step through.
“You’re right, of course. I’m still getting used to the protocols.” Out of the bag she pulled a white sweepers suit. She unzipped her boots, slid them off, then pulled the suit over her trim black dress. Then she took out a can of Seal-It, coated her hands.
She took the bag with her through the hole.
“Friend of yours?” Eve murmured to Roarke.
“Acquaintance, but she makes an impression.”
“You got that right,” Eve said and went through the hole.
“The remains on top—”
“Victim Two.”
“All right, Victim Two appears to be approximately 1.5 meters in length.”
“Just barely over, I did the measurement. Victim One is nearly the same, just under that.”
“Don’t take offense, but I’ll just remeasure, for my own record.” Once she had, DeWinter nodded. “From on-site visuals of the skull shape, the pubic area, Victim Two is female, between twelve and fifteen years. Most probably Caucasian. I see no outward sign of trauma. The crack in the right humerus, just above the elbow, indicat
es a break. Most likely between the ages of two and three. It didn’t heal well. There’s also a fracture of the right index finger.”
“Looks like more a twist than a break.”
“Agreed. Good eye. As if someone grabbed the finger, twisted it until it snapped.”
DeWinter drew out microgoggles, slipped them on, tapped them, and a light focused down. “She had a few cavities, and her twelve-year molars were through. A tooth missing. I also see some damage to the eye socket, left. An old injury.”
Slowly, systematically, DeWinter worked her way down the body. “A rotator cuff injury. Again it looks like a wrenching injury—someone grabbing the arm, twisting forcibly. Another fracture here, looks like a hairline in the left ankle.”
“Abuse. That’s a pattern of physical abuse.”
“Agreed, but I’ll want to study these injuries in my lab.”
She glanced up at Eve, her eyes huge behind the goggles. “I’ll be able to tell you more once I have her there. I need to move her to examine Victim One’s remains.”
“Peabody!”
Peabody popped into the doorway. “Sir!”
“Help me lift these remains.”
“Carefully,” DeWinter warned. “If you could take them out, and have Dawson secure them for transport. Do you know Dawson?”
“Yeah. Let’s get her up and out, Peabody.”
“Poor kid,” Peabody murmured, then gripped the plastic, lifted it with Eve like a hammock. “Who’s the fashion plate?” Peabody asked under her breath when they’d moved the remains into the main room.
“New forensic anthro. Dawson!”
When the head sweeper glanced her way, she signaled him. “Tell him to secure and arrange for transport,” Eve ordered Peabody, and went back through to rejoin DeWinter.
