Harlan Coben - The Innocent

She sat back.

"The company that made the implants was named SurgiCo. They went under eight years ago."

"And their records?"

Eldon shrugged. "We're trying to look into it. Look, it's late. We won't get anything tonight. I'm hoping to find out what happened to the records in the morning."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"You asked why there were no fibers under her fingernails."

"Yes."

"We're still running a full tox report. It could be that she was drugged, but I don't think that was it."

"You have another theory."

"I do."

"What's that?"

Eldon leaned back and crossed his legs. He turned to the side and stared at the wall. "There was slight bruising along both inner biceps."

Loren's eyes narrowed. "I'm not following."

"If a man were very strong and, uh, knowledgeable, he could sneak up on a sleeping woman," he began, his voice almost singsong, as if he were talking to a child. "He might flip the woman onto her back- or maybe she slept that way. He'd straddle her chest, pin her arms down with his knees- that, if he was careful and professional, could be done so as to leave very little bruising- and then he'd smother her with a pillow."

The room dropped ten degrees. Loren's voice was barely a whisper. "You think that's what happened here?"

"We have to wait for the full tox," Eldon said, turning away from the wall and looking directly at her. "But yeah. Yeah, I think that's what happened here."

She said nothing.

"There's one more thing that backs my theory up. It could help us." Eldon put a photograph on the desk. A headshot of the nun. Her eyes were closed as if she were expecting a facial. She'd been in her early sixties, but the lines had all been smoothed away in death. "You know anything about fingerprints on the skin?"

"Just that they're hard to pick up."

"Nearly impossible, if you don't catch the corpse right away. Most of the major studies are telling us to try to pick up the fingerprints at the crime scene if possible. At a minimum the lab guys should make sure the body is glue fumed right away to preserve the prints before the vic is packed away."

Forensic detail was not Loren's forte. "Uh huh."

"Well, it was too late for that with our Dying Nun here." He looked up. "Get it? Dying Nun instead of Flying Nun?"

"It's like I'm hanging with Chris Rock here. Go on."

"Right, so I'm trying something experimental. We got lucky that the corpse wasn't refrigerated. The condensation that builds up on the skin throws the whole thing out of whack. Anyway, I thought about going with the polyethylene terephthalate semirigid sheet. That's the one we use based on the fact that static electricity attracts dust particles-"

"Whoa." Loren held up her palm in the classic stop gesture. "Let's skip the CSI casting call. Did you get prints off the body?"

"Yes and no. I found smudges on both temples, one looks like a thumb, the other might be a ring finger."

"On her temples?"

Eldon nodded. He took off his glasses, gave them a wipe down, put them back on the end of his nose, pushed up. "I think the perp grabbed her face with one hand. Palmed it like a basketball player- with the heel of his hand on her nose."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. Then I think he pushed her head down as he climbed on top."

"But the fingerprints. Can you get any kind of ID off them?"

"Doubtful. We have partials at best. It'll never be enough for court, but there's this new software that helps you, I don't know, fill in the blanks, if you will. If you find somebody, I might get enough to confirm or eliminate."

"That might help."

He stood. "I'll get on it now. Probably take a day, maybe two. I'll let you know when I have more."

"Okay," Loren said. "Anything else?"

It was like a shadow fell over his face.

"Eldon?"

"Yeah," he said. "There's something else."

"I don't like the way you said that."

"I don't like saying it, believe me. But I think whoever did this did more than just smother her."

"What do you mean?"

"You know anything about stun guns?"

"Some."

"I think they used one." He swallowed. "In her."

"When you say 'in her,' do you mean-"

"I mean exactly what you think," he said, interrupting her. "Hey, I'm a product of Catholic school too, okay?"

"Are there burn marks?"

"Faint. But if you know what you're doing- and especially in an area that sensitive- you really shouldn't leave them. It was also a one-prong stunner, if that helps. Most, like the police-issue stun guns, have two prongs. I'm still running tests, but my guess is, she died in a lot of pain."

Loren closed her eyes.

"Hey, Squirt?"

"What?"

"Do me a favor," Eldon said. "Nail this son of a bitch, will ya?"

OLIVIA SAID, "Hi, hon, how was your day?"

Matt just held the phone.

"Matt?"

"I'm here," he said.

The police cruiser was gone now. Matt looked behind him. Marsha stood on the front step with her hands on her hips. Paul was chasing Ethan, both of them shrieking with laughter.

"So," Olivia said, as if it were just another day, "where are you?"

"At Marsha's."

"Everything okay?"

"I'm just taking the boys out to dinner."

"Not McDonald's again. Those fries are so unhealthy."

"Right."

Tentative steps. The ground giving way. Matt held the phone, thinking: You don't just jump up and scream, "Aha, caught ya!"

"So anything going on?" Olivia asked.

"Not much," he said. Kyra was getting in her car. She gave him a big smile and waved good-bye. He gestured back with his chin. "I called you before," Matt said with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

"You did?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Around noon."

"Really?"

"No, I'm making it up. Yes, really."

"Well, that's weird."

"Why?"

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Maybe you were out of range," he tried, giving her an out.

"Maybe," she said slowly.

"I left a message."

"Hold on." There was a pause. "Wait, it says here 'three missed calls.' "

"That would be me."

"I'm sorry, honey. I know this sounds ridiculous but I still get confused about how to retrieve messages. My old phone's code was six-seven-six and then I hit a star, but I don't think that works on this one."

"It doesn't," Matt said. "Your new code is the last four digits of your phone number and then you hit the pound key."

"Oh, right. I usually just check the missed calls log."

Matt closed his eyes. He could not believe how inane and ordinary this all felt.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"What?"

"When I called. Where were you?"

"Oh, I was at a seminar."

"Where?"

"What do you mean, where? I'm in Boston."

"What was it on?"

"Some new surfing tool to guard against employees using the Web for personal use. You can't imagine the amount of work hours lost on the Internet."

"Uh huh."

"Listen, I have to run. I'm meeting some people for dinner."

"Anyone I know?"

"Nope, no one you know." Olivia sighed with a little too much flair. "Check that: No one you'd even want to know."

"Boring?"

"Very."

"What hotel are you staying at?"

"Didn't I tell you?"

"No."

"The Ritz. But I'll be in and out. You're better off getting me on the cell phone."

"Olivia?"

"Oh," she said. "Hold up a second."

There was a long pause. Marsha crossed the lawn, approaching him. She signaled to her car, asking if it was okay if she took off. He waved that it was fine. Ethan and Paul, tired of running around in circles, headed toward him. Ethan grabbed his right leg, Paul his left. Matt made a face and pointed to the phone, as if they'd get the meaning that he was otherwise occupied. They didn't.