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“She wasn’t killed here, Detective. She was dumped. I doubt we’ll find her clothes or ID anywhere nearby. You might be best off searching for tire tracks.”
“Nothing so far,” he answers automatically. “Uniforms are on the lookout, but chances are, he drove up and parked on the street. Walked her in. Dropped her.”
Archer turns to bark orders. “Let’s work on getting CCTV footage from surrounding stores. More and more houses are installing home security, so let’s talk to the neighbors. See if we can catch a vehicle.”
Bringing his gaze back to me, he asks, “How long has she been here?”
“Uh…” My nerves flip as I slide my palms across the woman’s distended stomach. I trace her abdomen in search of her ribs, so I can count my way down, but that’s not what I find.
My throat closes for a moment. Tears burn my eyes. Then I look back to Archer and choke out the words that fight to stay in. “We have a problem.”
“What?” He kneels, quick as a flash, and meets my eyes on the same level. “What’s wrong?”
“Baby.” Slowly, I bring my attention back around to Jane, then I lower my eyes to her legs. To the blood between them. The swollen tissue. “She was pregnant.”
“There’s a baby?” he bites out.
At that, Fletch swings around and comes closer.
“Minka, you’re saying this is a double homicide?” Archer presses.
Sickness rolls in my stomach. “The baby was removed.”
“Shit,” Aubree hisses. “It wasn’t cut out.”
“No, she…” I swallow down the grief that makes my job difficult. “She gave birth to the child, then she died.”
“Fuck!” Archer shoves to his feet and crosses to Fletch. “Abducted infant. Our killer has the kid. Let’s get word out and expedite this fucking search. Maybe the baby is still alive. Then we have to figure out who the fuck the mother is. Dammit!”
* * *
“I’ve sent soil samples to the lab.” Aubree runs through our checklist, now that we’re back inside the George Stanley, with Jane Doe on our table in Autopsy Room One.
The time is closing in on midnight. Night-shift is in full swing, working their own cases, but this autopsy room is mine.
From my first day on the job until my last, this room belongs to me. So while Archer is somewhere outside in the cold, chasing an ID and searching for a baby, Aubree and I work in here.
“CSIs are sifting through the soil she laid atop on-scene. The branches Brady cut away are in-house, and the sheet we wrapped her in is with the lab.”
“She was approximately eight months pregnant.” I’ve swapped my outside coat for my white lab one. My heels for sneakers. I’ve tied my hair back, and several hours ago, as soon as we got here, I used the bathroom and quickly washed away the mess Archer left behind in the truck.
What was a moment of pleasure and ecstasy between lovers now feels dirty. Tainted. Because Jane’s body was used up too, in the worst possible way.
“Eight months is my best estimate, considering the size of her uterus.”
“It didn’t go down,” Aubree murmurs. “She needs to contract after birth to shrink the uterus down. Can’t contract if she’s dead.”
“Right.” I circle the table and pull her sheet up for a moment, to allow her a minute of modesty, and myself, time to ignore the grotesque elephant in the room. “She died immediately after giving birth. Perhapswhilegiving birth.”
“But we can’t find the cause of death yet?”
Shaking my head, I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and stop near our victim’s head. “She wasn’t choked. She wasn’t stabbed, shot, or harmed in any way. She didn’t struggle; her nails are free of dirt and skin. No signs of poison, or suffocation. Nothing is lodged in her throat. Nothing bit her. Stomach contents are with the lab, but bowel and bladder had already evacuated, though not on the primary site—which means whoever dumped her took his time. Didn’t do it right away.”
“It almost reads as natural causes,” Aubree ponders. “Stroke, heart attack, aneurysm. Something like that.”
“Very possible. If she was giving birth, her body was under extreme pressure. She wouldn’t be the first or last to die from the stress. But if she died naturally, why dump her? Why toss her out like trash?”
“Maybe he panicked?” Aubree lowers the sheet once more to reveal Jane’s chest. Her large breasts, already filled with colostrum to feed her baby.
