Chapter 2 BREE

Chapter 2

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Forty-five minutes later, additional patrol vehicles were parked nose to tail on the shoulder of the road. Bree's deputies had marked off the perimeter of the search area with ground stakes and crime scene tape. To minimize the impact of searchers on the scene, they'd left a walkway for law enforcement personnel.

Edmund had looked wrung out, having been outside in the heat and sun since early morning. Bree had taken his statement and sent him on his way, with the request that he not discuss what he'd seen with anyone. The case had the potential to be a media spectacle.

One of Bree's young deputies, Juarez, took photos. Another sketched the scene on a notepad and took measurements.

A car approached, slowing as the driver craned his neck to see what was happening. Bree sent a deputy to the road to keep passersby moving, but it wouldn't be long before the media noted the police activity.

"Call the station. Have someone bring a tent out here ASAP. I want those suitcases blocked from view of the road and the sky." Bree sensed the oddness of the scene would draw attention. She shielded her eyes and scanned the horizon. No helicopters. Yet.

"Yes, ma'am." Juarez lowered his camera and surveyed the area. "This is a lot of ground to cover."

"Outdoor scenes are always challenging. Weather and wildlife disturb evidence." Bree scanned the extensive cordoned-off area. "I like to mark a scene larger than I think will be necessary. Once searchers have trampled all over the ground, it's compromised. You can't go back and uncompromise it." Every person who entered a scene left their stamp on it, potentially shedding hairs or skin cells and making footprints.

"Where's Flynn?" Juarez asked.

"Out in the woods doing a K-9 training exercise." Bree was missing her part-time investigator—and full-time live-in boyfriend—Matt Flynn. Matt was determined to train K-9s. He'd found the sheriff's department's current K-9 through his sister's dog rescue organization. He was always on the hunt for a new recruit and was working to improve his handling skills. Being out in the wilderness with a bunch of dogs was his idea of a dream vacation.

Juarez surveyed the scene with a frown. "That's unfortunate timing."

"It is." She couldn't even call Matt to ask for his input on the case. He'd been out of cell phone range since the previous day.

The medical examiner's van rolled up and Dr. Serena Jones stepped out. A tall Black woman, she wore green scrubs and rubber boots. Her assistant busied himself retrieving equipment from the back of the van. Med kit in hand, Dr. Jones approached with long, athletic strides, descending the embankment with much more grace than Bree had managed.

Stopping a few feet short of the suitcases, Dr. Jones propped a hand on her hip. "This is a first for me."

"Same." Bree pulled her shirt away from her neck, hoping some air would reach her skin. Sweat had gathered under her uniform at the armpits, beneath her body armor, and under her duty belt.

Dr. Jones squatted next to the hand and studied it for a minute. She slipped on a pair of gloves and then lifted one of the fingers to examine it. "The nails are painted."

Bree leaned closer and craned her neck. The color was a bright shade of pink that instantly reminded her of her nine-year-old niece, Kayla. After Bree's sister had been murdered, Bree had moved from Philadelphia and given up her career with the Philly PD to assume guardianship over her niece and seventeen-year-old nephew. Kayla wasn't exactly a girly girl, but she had a few Barbies. Most of Barbie's accessories were this color.

The distinctive color instantly humanized a victim still mostly hidden to Bree. Had Barbie Pink been her favorite color? A wave of sadness passed through Bree, followed immediately by anger. She quelled both. Emotions clouded judgment.

"I'm making assumptions here. I won't know for certain until I perform the autopsy, but the polish color and slender structure of the forearm and hand suggest the remains are female." Dr. Jones studied the suitcase. "The bugs have been busy. Overall, insect activity suggests the remains have been here at least five days, probably longer."

Juarez pulled a bandanna from his pocket and mopped his dripping face.

Dr. Jones leaned back on her heels. "My initial impression is that the remains have been out here from five to fifteen days. The entomologist should be able to narrow that window considerably by aging the insects."

Juarez looked equally fascinated and horrified.

Dr. Jones asked, "Has anyone looked in the other suitcase?"

"We left that honor for you," Bree said.

"Good. Good," Dr. Jones muttered, clearly focused on the suitcases. "We could have one or two bodies, then." She pulled out a flashlight. She spread the edges of the plastic bag a few inches with her fingers and shined the light inside. "I see long brown hair." She adjusted the angle of the flashlight. "The body is on the small side." She turned her head to eye Juarez. "You wouldn't fit in that suitcase, not even in pieces."

Beneath his heat-flushed cheeks, Juarez paled. "The body could be in pieces?"

Dr. Jones's mouth twisted as she turned back to the opening in the plastic bag and adjusted the beam of her flashlight. "I believe this one is intact. She appears to be folded up in there."

Dr. Jones duckwalked to the second bag and gently unzipped it a few inches. Shining her flashlight inside, she exhaled. "Looks like a second body. This one is not in a plastic bag. I see a foot, slender, with what appears to be the same shade of nail color on the toenails." She closed the zipper, straightened, and backed away two steps from the suitcase.

Bree turned to her deputy. "Details stay under wraps. Don't even discuss them among yourselves."

"Yes, ma'am," Juarez said.

"Will you open it in the morgue?" Bree asked the ME.

"Yes." Dr. Jones nodded.

Juarez exhaled, as if relieved.

Dr. Jones contemplated the luggage with a tilt of her head. "It'll be best for evidence preservation to open everything in the lab. We'll sample insects here, though."

Juarez's throat shifted as he gagged, then swallowed.

Bree said, "Don't vomit here."

His head bobbed in a tight nod.

The ME's assistant approached with his camera.

Dr. Jones began issuing orders. "Photograph everything. I want samples of the soil under the suitcases and all the bugs."

With a nod, the assistant went to work photographing the suitcases. He started at a distance and worked every angle, slowly spiraling in to shoot close-ups from multiple perspectives. There couldn't be too many photos. The scene couldn't be reconstructed after the bodies were removed.

Bree's chief deputy, Todd Harvey, arrived, and pulled a tent from the back of his patrol vehicle. He and Juarez set it up over the suitcases and arranged the side flaps to block the view from the road.

"Just in time." Bree heard the distinct thwap thwap thwap of an approaching helicopter. A few seconds later, a news copter passed overhead. "Get a grid search going. Also, I want deputies to walk the sides of the road for a quarter mile in every direction in case our killer tossed anything else out of his vehicle."

Two hours later, the ME and her assistant placed both suitcases on gurneys in black body bags. A couple of deputies helped carry the gurneys up the embankment to the road. A news van parked on the shoulder. The cameraman focused on the gurneys as they were loaded into the back of the ME's van. A tall blond reporter filming a sound bite looked Hollywood worthy, but also familiar, though Bree couldn't think of his name.

"Sheriff!" the blond man called, smoothing the sleeves of his dark-blue suit and straightening his silk tie. How was he not sweating?

"I can't talk to you right now. Please stand back. This is an active investigation." Bree summoned one of her newest hires, Deputy Renata Zucco, to ensure the media kept their distance. Zucco was petite but tough, even mouthy to a fault at times. Former NYPD, she wouldn't allow anyone to bulldoze her or compromise the scene.

Todd reported back. "Roadside search is complete. We found the usual litter: water bottles, soda cans, cigarette butts, take-out bags, et cetera."

Every scrap would be photographed next to an evidence marker, bagged, and transported back to the forensics lab for analysis. Each bag would contain the glove used to recover that particular piece of evidence. Each label would document the current link in the chain of custody. Any break in that chain would render the evidence inadmissible.

Bree said, "I wasn't expecting much because the victims clearly weren't killed here. This is a dump site. But you never know. This is a strange case."

After the bodies were removed, Bree and her deputies photographed, sampled, and searched the ground where they'd lain.

"The lack of evidence is frustrating," Juarez said.

"We'll have plenty when the autopsies are complete." Bree mentally crossed her fingers the remains and/or suitcases would help them identify the victims and solve the murders.