Chapter Thirty

Hunter began with the same photo that had first caught his eye – the one on the final page of the photo album. It was a picture of Joana and Joseph together, where Joseph looked to be around fourteen years old. The picture was taken on a bright sunny day. Joana was sitting on a patch of grass that had been recently mowed, with a large picnic basket by her side. She wore a spaghetti-strap floral dress and ankle-strap sandals. Joseph was standing just behind his mother, his arms by his sides, his eyes looking straight ahead; his smile was shy and it looked a little forced. The thorned name of the metal band across the front of his T-shirt was impossible to read.

‘What caught my attention in this photo was Terry Wilford's son,' Hunter said. ‘Joseph.'

Garcia repositioned himself and looked at the picture again.

‘See his arms?' Hunter indicated.

‘Yeah, what about his arms?'

‘Right here.' Hunter tapped his index finger against the photo. ‘Just below the elbow joint. His arms bend in very slightly at an odd angle, don't you think?'

Garcia squinted for better focus, as he brought the album closer to his face. ‘Oh-kay.' He agreed. ‘Very slightly, but isn't he holding his arms like that on purpose. You know, trying to look more muscular for the photo.' Garcia exaggerated the pose – arms down and flexed inward, pushing his chest out. ‘Teenagers will do stuff like that.'

‘That's not what he's doing.' Hunter indicated again. ‘See, the bend isn't at the elbows, like you just did. It's a little below them.'

‘Yeah, I see that now.'

Hunter flipped back a few pages on the album and indicated two different photographs. The first was a photo of Terry, Joana and Joseph together. All three of them were standing by a tall, lit Christmas tree. Joseph looked to be about five or six years old then. This time, he was standing right in front of his mother, while Terry stood to their left. Terry had stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes for a silly and funny face. Joana had her arms over Joseph's shoulders, with her fingers clasped together over his chest. Both of them were laughing at Terry's silliness.

The second photo that Hunter indicated was a picture where Terry had a very happy five-year-old-looking Joseph sitting on his shoulders.

‘Now have a look at these photos,' Hunter said. ‘Or any other photo on this page. Can you see that same bend in the kid's arms?'

Garcia took his time.

‘No,' he finally said. ‘His arms don't seem to bend in at all here. In none of these photos.'

‘That's because they don't,' Hunter confirmed.

Garcia looked back at his partner. ‘So what does that mean? That he broke both of his arms at the same exact spot, just below the elbow?'

‘Yes, that's exactly what it means,' Hunter agreed before his right eyebrow arched at Garcia. ‘And here is where my brain began trying to make connections where they probably don't exist.' He pointed to the Christmas tree photo. ‘No bend in the arm…' Then he flipped back to the photo at the end of the album. ‘Bend in the arm – so Terry's kid, Joseph, broke both of his arms sometime between the ages of six and fourteen, right?'

‘Yes,' Garcia nodded. ‘OK.'

‘And my guess is that he broke his arms when he was around ten years old,' Hunter said.

‘How could you possibly know that, Robert?'

‘I don't,' Hunter countered. ‘That's why it's a guess.'

‘Based on what?' Garcia pushed.

Hunter handed him the loose photograph from the box that Garcia had found in the living room – the one where Joseph looked to be around ten years of age. ‘Have a look at this photo again.'

The photo showed Joseph and his mother standing by a small waterfall – a nature park of some sort. The sky behind them was completely cloudless and bright blue. Joana was wearing a red-and-white polka-dot summer dress, while Joseph had on a black, long-sleeved shirt. A few out-of-focus people could be seen in the background, enjoying the day. In the photo, Joana had bent down at the waist to give Joseph a kiss on the cheek. Joseph didn't look very comfortable. He didn't look like he was enjoying himself either.

This time, knowing what to look for, Garcia focused his attention straight onto Joseph's arms.

‘I've got to say,' he finally commented. ‘He must be hot.'

‘Exactly,' Hunter agreed, as he indicated on the photo. ‘It's a bright, sunny day… in Arizona. His mother, plus everyone else you can see in the background, is wearing summer clothes – T-shirts, dresses, shorts, vests, and so on – Joseph is wearing a somewhat loose long-sleeved shirt. Why? He's a ten-year-old boy at a waterfall park.'

Garcia met Hunter's stare. ‘Because he wants to hide his arms?'

Hunter waited.

‘Because he wants to hide the casts.'

Hunter nodded at the photo before letting out a breath that was full of doubt. ‘That's the problem, Carlos. I don't think he's got any on.'

‘Any what, casts?'

Hunter nodded. ‘How much do you know about human bones… about their healing process?'

‘Obviously not nearly as much as you.'

Hunter, once again, drew Garcia's attention to the picture at the end of the photo album. ‘You see, what's interesting here is that what these slightly inward bends just below the elbows indicate is that neither of his arms healed properly… not in the way they should have. That in itself is strange, because the bones of children are still growing, and their growth pattern can more easily accommodate broken or fractured bones.'

Garcia paused for an instant.

‘Younger bones have far more periosteum than adult ones,' Hunter explained. ‘And the significance of that is three-fold. One: younger bones are denser and stronger. Two: recovery and healing time is much quicker in younger bones. And three: if properly attended to, younger bones will heal back to perfection – even X-rays might struggle to identify an old fracture after the bone had fully healed, never mind naked-eye spotting it on a photo like we just did.'

Garcia picked up the photo album and flipped back to the picnic photo – no bend in Joseph's arms. He studied it again for a couple of seconds before reverting back to the picture on the last page. ‘So you're saying that…' He allowed the sentence to linger in the air.

‘That Terry Wilford's son's broken arms were never professionally tended to,' Hunter clarified, as he shook his head. ‘I don't think that he was ever taken to a hospital for those injuries, Carlos. The fractured bones were never correctly realigned and his arms were never properly immobilized. Maybe what he had on in this photo were some sort of homemade braces, if that, but I'm certain that that wasn't done in a hospital. The fractured bones in both of his arms mended, but at a slightly incorrect angle.'

This time, Garcia hesitated for a heartbeat. He'd seen similar scenarios before.

‘The only reason why a parent wouldn't take a kid in need of medical attention to a hospital,' he said, his eyes still on the photo, ‘is because they know that questions will be asked about how those injuries came to be. And if the doctors and nurses aren't fully convinced by the explanation, they'll call Child Protective Services.'

Hunter nodded. ‘I know.'

Garcia handed the photo album back to Hunter. ‘So you think that Terry Wilford – or his wife… or both of them – were violent toward their kid?'

Hunter shifted, his eyes sweeping the small bedroom before coming back to his partner. ‘I'd say that that is a very good guess, but there's something else.'

Garcia questioned with a head movement.

Hunter once again indicated the photo on the last page. ‘These inward curvatures on both of his arms indicate that these… were spiral fractures.'

Garcia coughed. ‘The same type of fracture that Terry Wilford suffered before he died? While he was being tortured?'

‘The exact same,' Hunter replied.

Garcia shook his head. ‘No fucking way that this happened by chance.'