John Burley - The Absence of Mercy

“The bodies of the victims took quite a beating,” he observed now offhandedly, breaking the silence as they nosed into a parking spot.

“You just noticing that, are you?” Carl responded.

Danny barely registered the remark. His tone was thoughtful: “One hand and multiple fingers amputated. Deep stab wounds. Genitals amputated on the first victim. Most of the face abraded away on this last one.”

“Yeah. It’s amazing how you’re putting all of this together,” Carl replied.

“You can’t inflict those sort of wounds with your bare hands.”

“I think we’ve already established that there was a weapon involved.”

“Several, most likely. Pretty tough to abrade someone’s face away with a regular knife.”

“Uh-huh.” Carl killed the ignition.

“And the amputations: You ever tried cutting through bone with a knife, even a really sharp one?”

“I’ve done some hunting.”

“So you know it isn’t easy, especially if you’re going to do a bunch of them in a short enough period of time to minimize your chances of being caught in the act.”

“Is there a point to any of this?” Carl asked, impatiently. “Or are you just playing catch-up?”

“While I was photographing the injuries today,” Danny replied, studying the palms of his hands, “I was just thinking about what type of weapons—or specialized tools, if you will—might be necessary to carry out something like that.”

“And?”

“And I noticed a lot of them either lying around in the sink or stored away in drawers in that very room.”

“Now, wait a minute.” Carl stopped him. “If you’re implying that the doc or his assistant might have had something to do with this, you’re way off the mark. If you’d been paying attention, you’d remember that we actually checked on that, mostly because we had nothing better to do. Both of them have solid alibis during at least one of the three attacks. And the DNA analysis from the assistant didn’t match the biological samples obtained from the bite wounds.”

“True. I’m just saying that the Coroner’s Office would make a nice source for acquiring some of the necessary instruments. I’ll bet some of the tools might not even be missed. Or perhaps,” he said, “they might have even been returned without anyone noticing. Think about it. What a great hiding place for a murder weapon: in an autopsy room in the midst of scores of similar instruments used to dissect cadavers on a daily basis. Hell, they might even have been cleaned by the CO staff between murders.”

“Interesting theory,” Carl replied. “But they keep that place locked up when there’s no one there. No security guard with an extra set of keys. Who would that leave? The secretary? You think she’s got the strength to carry out those kinds of attacks?”

“No,” Danny answered. “Besides, most of the stab wounds have upward trajectories—more consistent with a male attacker. Women tend to hold the weapon over their head and stab downward.”

“Generally, yes,” Carl agreed. “So would that imply a break-in? We could check, but I don’t recall the Coroner’s Office reporting any break-ins over the past year or so.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“So, according to your theory, we would be looking for someone with access to keys to the CO, but not necessarily the staff itself. Friends, family, lovers. That sort of thing?”

“Right.”

“Well… we could check into it—talk to a few people and see if anyone fits the profile—but I think it’s a real stretch. I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Sherlock Holmes, but I do appreciate your willingness to get your head back into this invest—”

“There’s one other thing,” Danny said.

“What’s that?”

“The bite wounds. I can’t stop thinking about the bite wounds.”

“What about them?”

“Well, for one thing, it just seems… I don’t know… so animalistic. So savage. I find it the most upsetting factor, don’t you?”

“The whole thing’s upsetting, as far as I’m concerned,” Carl said. “I mean, that obliterated face today was pretty disturbing. But we’re in a gruesome business, kid. You’ve got to get used to stuff like that.”

“I know.” Danny was studying his hands again. “But I was photographing the bite wounds today.” He looked up and smiled thinly, a little painfully. “I had to focus in pretty close to get the detail clear enough.”

Carl sighed. “Yeah?” With the ignition off they’d lost the heater, and the late December Midwest cold was starting to settle into the passenger compartment. He wanted to get into the station where it was warm instead of sit out here and listen to his junior partner go on about things he could’ve discussed during their conversation with the doctor at the CO.

“Do you remember that abnormal gap between the upper left canine and the first premolar that the dental expert identified from the silicon castings of the bite wounds? He called it a diastasis.”

Carl nodded. “Of course. We looked into it. Nothing panned out.”

“Well, it looks to be consistent with at least one of the superficial impressions left on the skin of this body, too. It’s clearly evident, provided you know what to look for.”

“Which means the guy who killed this kid is the same one who attacked the other two. As suspected.”

“Right.”

“So? I don’t see how that moves us any closer than where we already were.”

Detective Hunt stopped studying his hands and looked up at his partner. He looked a little ill. Carl wondered if he might be coming down with his first winter cold of the season. Probably end up getting him sick, too.

“I noticed the diastasis twice today,” he said. “Once while I was photographing the body, and a few minutes later in the doc’s office. I don’t think it would’ve even registered in my mind if I hadn’t gone through all those BMV photos this past summer. I just looked across the desk and there it was. I had to get a closer look to be certain, but yeah—plain as day.”

“What are you talking about?” Carl asked, but something in his gut had begun to stir, and he thought he knew what his partner was about to say next.

“The photograph on the doc’s desk,” Danny replied. “The one of the whole family posing for a snapshot on the riverbank. Big smiles all around.”

“Who?” Carl asked. His mouth suddenly felt dry and unpleasant, as if he had been eating old mothballs extracted from his grandmother’s closet.

The young detective held his gaze. His face was as still and solemn as the autopsy room they had just vacated.

“Oldest boy,” Danny said, and with that he stepped out of the car and headed into the station, where it was warm.

Sam Garston sat back in his chair. The two detectives exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke further. Their phone call had caught him in the middle of dinner. Was he available to speak with them? “Of course,” he’d said. “What’s up?” Perhaps it was better if they spoke in person, Detective Schroeder had suggested.

“Well, I’m not heading out again unless it’s an emergency,” Sam had replied, glancing out through the kitchen window at the sleet that had begun to fall. “You boys might ‘s well meet with me at home, if it needs to be tonight.”

And so the two younger men had driven through mostly deserted streets and had trudged up the walkway to their boss’s front door.

“Cold out tonight,” Carla observed, ushering them in. “Interest you men in some hot coffee? Freshly brewed.”

Neither one of them had to think twice about that .

Having heard them out, Sam now turned his head to the right, his eyes studying his own living room wall. It was sparsely populated with photographs he’d taken over the years, mostly from the few vacations he’d managed during the course of his adult life. Those vacations had been short and all too infrequent. He and Carla had simply been too busy most of the time, distracted with a parade of unending duties and obligations. Their world had been small and neatly packaged, just the way they liked it. He just hadn’t thought of it that way until recently. Lately, though, Sam found his thoughts turning with increasing frequency toward retirement, and he wondered with a sort of tentative excitement what it would be like to return to a place in his life where his options once more seemed far greater than the sum of his responsibilities. It wasn’t far off now; he could feel it. In the meantime, there remained a few unresolved matters that demanded his attention.