Beverly Connor - Dead Past

Neva pushed a lock of brown hair under her knit cap and donned the plastic cap. “People are already calling my parents, cause they know where I work,” she said, “and they want to know who’s been killed. This is just terrible.” Neva came to the crime scene unit from the Rosewood police.

David and Diane’s eyes met briefly. She knew what he was thinking. This is too much like the life they left. David worked with Diane at World Accord International doing human rights investigations all over the world. They had seen too many piles of burned bodies.

“We’re going to work the area around the house first. I’ve marked a couple of things I’ve found,” Diane said, pointing to the orange flags-silent sentinels guarding the severed hand and the saw blade. “Work inward. After we clear the way to the house, we will have to build a scaffold over the floor. It’s not stable.”

Diane glanced over at Marcus. She imagined he’d have something to say about that. He and Garnett were walking toward them, only Marcus looked like he was strutting. It was the smirk on his face that made her take a plastic shower cap from Neva’s case and hand it to him. The expression on his face changed as their eyes met.

Marcus McNair scowled at Diane as she held out the plastic hair cap to him. “You want me to shower?” he said, giving her his deep-throated gravelly laugh.

Judging from his expression, she might as well have asked if he wanted to wrap a snake around his head. She had heard on good authority that many women found him charming. She found him annoying.

“The hair covering is to protect the crime scene. We don’t want any more contamination than has already occurred.”

Diane’s team grinned at McNair. He cast a quick glance at the media.

“I don’t think I’ll be needing that,” he said.

Diane knew that he would never accept the possibility of his picture being taken in anything that looked like a shower cap. She just wanted to see him back out of wearing it, and immediately felt guilty for baiting him.

“What we got here?” he asked quickly.

Garnett responded. “The crime scene unit is going to clear a way to the house. When that’s done, we need to build a low scaffold over the house site so all of you can work.” Garnett gestured as he spoke, as if building the scaffolding with the movement of his hands.

“Well, what I think,” said McNair, “is I can have a look at the structure. We may not need to build anything… ”

Garnett cut him off. “The decision is made. If you don’t want to help clear the path, then you need to stay out of the way until you have access to the scene.”

There was something else going on, an undercurrent of hostility Diane had been unaware of until now. She had rarely seen Garnett that short with anyone. Whatever it was, she didn’t want her team in the middle of it. She unconsciously stepped back.

“Now look here, Garnett,” said McNair. “The fire department was first on the scene and took control of the situation. I work for the fire department, not you. I’m investigating a suspicious fire here. This is my turf and I’m in charge. All you need to do is get out of my way.” McNair all but thrust out his chin, daring Garnett to hit it.

Diane glanced at the reporters to see if anyone had noticed. They had collared Lynn Webber and were occupied. However, Whit Abercrombie, the Rose County coroner, was approaching. He winked at her.

“No, I believe I’m in charge,” Whit said. McNair spun around at the newcomer just as Whit slapped him on the back. “We’ve had this conversation before. It doesn’t matter who gets to the scene first, Marcus. State law clearly says that in those instances in which there is loss of human life, the coroner of the jurisdiction-that would be me-has prevailing authority and control of the scene of death until such time as his responsibilities are satisfied and he relinquishes control to other authority. I don’t know why I have to keep telling people that.”

His dark eyes sparkled as he grinned broadly, showing bright white teeth. Whit had a short black beard and it made him look devilish at that moment. Like Jin, he must have a tolerance for cold, thought Diane. He was dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt with a black leather jacket open down the front.

McNair felt ganged up on; Diane could see it in his eyes as his gaze darted from Whit to Garnett and back to Whit again.

“Whit,” began McNair.

Again Garnett cut him off, explaining to Whit the plan that Diane had laid out. Whit nodded.

“Sounds reasonable. It’s going to be a whole lot messier and more complicated to extract the remains if the rest of the floor collapses.” Whit looked at the burned-out house as if for the first time and shook his head. “We need to get those bodies out as quickly and carefully as we can. If it was a meth lab, there’s no telling what may still be lurking in that rubble. The hazardous waste people are on the way from Atlanta. They’ll handle the septic tank. It’ll be full of contaminants. This whole thing is a tragic mess and we need everyone’s cooperation.” He looked at each of them as he spoke and then settled on Garnett. “Any idea how many kids were in the house?”

“I’ve got my people making a list of possibles,” said Garnett. “When we can, we’ll interview the survivors, see what they can tell us. I think we’re looking at one of the biggest tragedies Rosewood has ever suffered.”

“Marcus,” said Whit, “I think you might as well learn what you can from the firefighters for now. It’s going to be later in the day before you can get access to the house.”

Whit’s mild, friendly manner diffused the situation for the moment, but McNair cast a mean glance at Garnett before he left.

“Do I need to know what’s going on?” asked Diane when McNair was out of earshot.

For a moment Garnett watched Marcus McNair trudge to his car through the thin layer of slush still on the road.

“Albin Adler, the councilman, is trying to start an investigation of the police department, raising a big stink, and McNair’s feeding him misinformation. It’s just political nonsense. It goes on all the time, but I want to keep it out of here.”

Diane was more than willing to let it not be her problem.

“Adler wants to run for mayor and then governor,” added Whit. “And he’s got all his relatives doing his dirty work. I understand they’re legion.”

Diane’s team had been waiting patiently, appearing to ignore Garnett and Whit’s conversation as they rummaged through their crime scene cases, pulling out what they needed. But Diane knew they were soaking up everything. David would use the information to feed the basic paranoia he enjoyed nurturing; Jin was fascinated with southern local politics; and Neva would use it to wheedle more information from buddies on the police force.

Diane watched them a moment before she spoke, smiling as she thought how much she liked her staff. David looked up at her and grinned. She left Whit and Garnett to their conversations and focused on her team.

“OK,” she said, “David and Jin, I want you to clear a path to the site and a perimeter immediately around it to provide a work area. Neva and I will work the area outside that perimeter.”

“I can handle that,” said Neva, “if you need to set up… ” She nodded toward the morgue tent-the place where the bodies and the body parts would be delivered-and let the sentence fade off.

“I’ll work here until the medical examiners are ready,” Diane said. “Let’s get started.”

Marking found items with flags-green flags for debris, orange for human remains-Jin and David were searching a wide path from the driveway to the burned-out house. She and Neva began a search of the front yard from the street to the house.