Chris Carter - The Caller

Hunter immediately brought a hand up to his face, cupping his fingers over his nose. No matter how many times he’d been through those corridors, he had never gotten used to that smell. He didn’t believe he ever would either.

A final right turn at the end of this second hallway and they were finally at the door to Autopsy Theater Two. Through the two rectangular windows on the stainless-steel plated doors, the detectives could see Dr. Hove inside. She was sitting on a tall stool, completely absorbed by something on her computer screen.

Hunter knocked three times.

Dr. Hove looked up and as she recognized the detectives she turned and hit the round green button on the wall behind her. The doors unlocked with a pressure-seal-like hiss. With a hand gesture, she motioned them inside.

Hunter and Garcia pushed the doors open and finally stepped into the large and uncomfortably cold room. Its walls were tiled in brilliant white. Its floor, just like the corridors outside, were done in shiny, squeaky-clean linoleum. Two stainless-steel autopsy tables sprang out of a long and wide drainage counter that hugged the west wall. At the end of each table sat an oversized sink equipped with a powerful water jet. Cassandra Jenkinson’s body, half covered by a light-blue sheet, lay on the table closest to them. Her head had been clean-shaved. Her hair would now be at the forensics lab for analysis.

‘Robert, Carlos.’ The Chief Medical Examiner for the Los Angeles County greeted both detectives.

Dr. Carolyn Hove was tall and slim, with piercing green eyes and long chestnut hair that had been tied back into a ponytail. Her surgical mask hung loosely from her neck, revealing full lips, prominent cheekbones and a small Grecian nose. Her voice had the sort of velvety and calm tone usually associated with experience and knowledge.

‘Not really how I’d like to spend my Saturday morning,’ she said. ‘But one can’t always choose.’

‘We’re sorry about that, Doc,’ Hunter said. ‘I guess we would all rather be somewhere else.’

‘No need to apologize, Robert,’ the doctor replied. ‘It’s not your fault and I was scheduled to be here anyway. If not this case, I’d be working on a different one. The backlog is weeks long.’

Neither detective doubted that for a second. The LACDC was one of the busiest coroners in the country, and despite performing anywhere between twenty and forty postmortem examinations every day, the work would still sometimes accumulate.

‘OK,’ Dr. Hove said in a subdued tone, turning towards the body on the table. ‘Let me show you what this monster has done.’

Something in her tone of voice worried both detectives.

Dr. Hove pulled back the light-blue sheet to completely reveal Cassandra Jenkinson’s naked body. The infamous Y-shaped incision, now closed and punctuated by thick black stiches, ran the entire length of her torso, starting at the top of each shoulder and terminating at the lower point of the sternum. A cranial incision, where a triangular cut is made across the top of the scalp to create a lid to the brain, had also been made.

Hunter and Garcia stepped a little closer.

The body on the table, with its shaved head, its eyes sunk deep into their sockets, and its rubbery-textured skin, appeared almost alien, but for some reason, the look on Cassandra’s face seemed a lot more peaceful now than it had back in her house. It was as if she was glad that her nightmare was finally over and she could feel no more pain.

‘Let me start with the basics,’ Dr. Hove said, handing each detective a copy of her autopsy report. ‘As I’m sure you both noticed back at the crime scene, with the exception of the fatal wounds inflicted to her skull and a small cut to the right side of her bottom lip, there are no other injuries to her body, defensive or otherwise. Her nails were also clean of any skin tissue. Unfortunately, she didn’t scratch at her assailant.’

‘So she really didn’t put up a fight?’ Garcia asked.

‘Not even a tiny one,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘Do you know how the killer gained access to the property?’

‘Not yet,’ Garcia replied. ‘There were no signs of forced entry anywhere, but we have reason to believe that he has possibly been in her house before.’

‘So you think that he was known to her?’

A small shrug from Garcia. ‘We’re looking into it, Doc.’

Dr. Hove nodded before facing Hunter. ‘I’ve put in an urgent request with the toxicology lab, so hopefully we’ll have confirmation by tomorrow, but your report says that according to the witness statement, the killer told him that he had injected the victim with something that would numb most of her body, but it would not do the same to her brain or her nervous system.’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Hunter confirmed.

Dr. Hove breathed out. ‘OK, so here is where the evil starts.’ She called their attention to the right side of Cassandra’s neck.

Both detectives bent forward to have a better look at it. Now that her head, face and neck had been cleaned from all the blood, Hunter and Garcia were able to clearly notice a tiny needle-prick to her skin, just under her ear.

‘In order for the killer to achieve that desired effect,’ the doctor explained, ‘he would’ve had to use a neuromuscular blocking agent and dose it absolutely perfectly, or else it would’ve also paralyzed the muscles needed for respiration and been lethal to her in minutes.’

Garcia flipped a page on the report. ‘And how easy would it be to obtain something like that, Doc?’

Dr. Hove made a ‘Who knows?’ face. ‘Go back fifteen years, maybe a little less, and any neuromuscular blocking agent would be pretty hard to come by, unless you were in a medical profession or had some very good contacts. Today? With the Internet and the thousands of illegal online drugstores? People can get it delivered to their door — gift-wrapped. No questions asked. No real record of purchase anywhere either.’

‘Great,’ Garcia said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

‘I’m sure that both of you must’ve had a pretty good idea back at the crime scene,’ Dr. Hove continued, ‘but I can confirm that, just like the first victim, this one wasn’t sexually assaulted either, which solidifies the case for a non-sexual motive. Whatever this is about, it isn’t about sexual pleasure.’

Following her accounts, both detectives flipped another page on the report.

‘But whoever this killer is,’ the doctor added, ‘he’s very skillful, and he’s got at least some basic knowledge of neuroanatomy and trauma.’

‘Neuroanatomy?’ Garcia asked.

‘Let me explain.’ She stepped left and this time directed their attention to the victim’s head wounds. ‘As I’ve said before, there are no other injuries to her body, with the exception of the three perforations to her scalp.’

Hunter and Garcia repositioned themselves by Dr. Hove’s side. With Cassandra’s head now completely shaved, even with the rubbery-like skin and its discoloration, three very small punctures to her scalp were clearly noticeable. None of them looked to be any larger than three millimeters in diameter.

‘These perforations to her scalp caused a very particular type of fracture to her skull,’ the doctor proceeded.

‘Pyramid splinters,’ Hunter said, studying the three small holes on Cassandra’s head.

‘Exactly,’ the doctor confirmed.

‘Pyramid what?’ Garcia looked at his partner.

‘Dr. Hove can explain them better,’ Hunter said.

Garcia turned and face her.

‘It’s all in the report,’ she said. ‘But I’ll give you the quick version.’

‘That works,’ Garcia replied.