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Josie said, “What’s going on?”
Anya folded her arms across her chest and sucked in several deep breaths, her eyes looking everywhere but at them. “I finished the autopsy on Sharon Eddy.”
“That’s what’s got you so rattled?” asked Gretchen. “Guess that means it wasn’t accidental.”
“It definitely wasn’t.”
Josie stepped forward and pressed the back of her hand to Anya’s forehead. Her skin was cold and clammy. She said, “I’m fine.”
Catching one of her wrists, Josie pressed two fingers on the inside of it. “Really? Because your heart is racing.”
“Maybe we should go sit in your office,” Gretchen said.
Anya batted Josie’s hand away and looked back at Sharon Eddy. “No. No. We have to do this. I have to get through this. It took me hours just to work up the nerve to call you and—”
Josie said, “Okay, okay. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Whatever’s got you so freaked out, we’ll work through it together.”
“Talk to us,” Gretchen said. “Just start at the beginning. Quinn brought me up to speed on the Eddy case. Tell us about the exam and autopsy.”
“Yes, yes,” said Anya. She turned back to the body. She began to recite her findings, settling easily into her role as medical examiner, the anxiety in her voice fading with each word. “Sharon Eddy. She’s a well-nourished, well-developed nineteen-year-old female. No signs of any significant medical issues. No signs of sexual assault. We found what we believe are several different animal hairs on her coat. We’ve sent the samples off to the state lab.”
Josie said, “She worked at an animal hospital. I’m not sure that’s going to get us anywhere. Did you find any DNA on her body?”
“Nothing.”
“How about injuries?” asked Gretchen.
“Although in the field we did not immediately find any evidence of injuries, once Ms. Eddy’s body arrived here and her clothes were removed, I did note a bump on the back of her head which was well-hidden by her hair and the hat she wore. On autopsy it was discovered that she had a subdural hematoma.”
“Is that what killed her?” asked Gretchen.
“While it certainly would have been enough to knock her unconscious, no. It didn’t kill her. She was strangled.”
Josie moved past Anya and stared at Sharon’s throat. Even under the bright overhead lights, no marks were visible. “How do you know?”
Anya said, “There are some instances when the death happens so quickly that external bruising doesn’t have time to occur. I did find a few spots of petechiae in her left eye, but the major finding that is consistent with death by strangulation is the focal hemorrhaging on her infrahyoid muscles.”
Gretchen said, “Her strap muscles?”
Anya nodded. She must have noticed that Josie was searching her memory banks for strap muscles because she gave a soothing smile—looking more like herself than she had since they arrived—and pointed to Sharon’s throat. “The infrahyoid muscles are the four pairs of muscles that sit in the front of your throat. More or less, they connect the jaw to the collarbone and support the structure of the neck. They look like straps—that’s why we call them strap muscles. They start below the hyoid bone, which is below the jawline, and, like I said, they basically connect everything: hyoid, sternum, clavicle, larynx. You use them in swallowing, eating, talking…this is the very unscientific definition, by the way.”
“Which we always appreciate,” Gretchen said.
Josie said, “You said there was focal hemorrhaging on Sharon Eddy’s strap muscles.”
“Yes,” Anya said. “Thumbprints, most likely. I’ve seen it before. The body looks fine on external exam with little or no bruising to the neck. Sometimes even the other hallmarks of deaths caused by strangulation are absent, like the petechiae in the eyes, the swollen tongue, bulging eyes, but when you perform the autopsy, a broken hyoid or bruised strap muscles will indicate that the victim was strangled. In Sharon’s case, her hyoid is still intact but the injuries to her strap muscles are consistent with strangulation.”
“Doc,” Josie said. “We’ve had strangulation cases in the past. We had them last month in that big Collins case.”
Anya’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she murmured. “It’s not that. That’s not why I called. Listen, this is very difficult for me to talk about, and I understand that you will have to share it with your team. There’s no way around that. I guess I just needed some time for it to sink in.” She moved back to Sharon’s side and carefully folded the sheet down until Sharon’s torso and left hip were exposed. Josie noted a small tattoo on the inside of her left forearm, a butterfly. Her left hip was marked as well. Not a tattoo. Something else. “It’s fresh,” Anya said, voice husky. “Probably inflicted a few hours before she died.”
Gretchen stepped forward. “Is that a brand?”
Segments of skin on Sharon’s hip had been seared away, leaving red and purple blisters with charred edges, and making a distinct shape.
Anya nodded, lips pursed tightly. A tear slid down her face.
Before they could ask any more questions, she lifted her scrub top and then peeled her pants down just enough for them to see a matching brand on her left hip.
