Chapter 9

NINE

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Saturday, September 21

1:29 p.m.

Ruby Davis.

Fifteen years old. Missing twenty-two days.

Leigh took in the coating of sand that seemed to cling to every inch of the thin body. Head to toe. Peppered throughout already sand-filled dark brown hair. The remains had been left beneath the lower elevation wood slats of the boardwalk. Buried out of sight, out of mind. Except Ruby hadn't disappeared as easily as her killer had hoped.

The Baldwin County coroner's office had run out of room. Leigh could tell by the almost haphazard way a handful of metal exam tables had been shoved into the nearest anteroom. The exam room itself was nothing but three half-painted walls lined with equipment and unpacked boxes of supplies. A black cabinet had been pushed into one corner, taking up a good amount of space, but it was the stockroom they'd passed on their way in that said this office had surpassed capacity. Shelves and shelves of unclaimed remains. All cremated with clear names, dates, and the coroner's logo labeled on each. She'd estimated over a hundred.

"Do you have any idea on time of death?" Detective Moore had lost a good amount of color in her face since identifying the body on the beach. The coroner would confirm with DNA, fingerprints, and dental X-rays as the investigation moved forward, but there was no mistaking the girl's similarity to photos that'd been pasted across every news channel and headline over the past three weeks. Detective Moore's missing persons case had not ended as she'd hoped. Leigh could read it in the way she barely allowed herself to shift her weight. How she studied every single inch of the victim with the intention of coming away with a lead, and Leigh got the impression this wasn't just another case for the detective.

This was something more.

Baldwin County's coroner—Beau Pierce—took another photo. The victim had been stripped of her clothing: wide leg jeans with gaping holes in the knees, a too-short T-shirt to cover her midriff, and a faux letterman jacket that'd been ripped along one sleeve. Possibly from when the killer had dragged her body to the drop site. "That's not my domain, Detective. You know as well as I do, she'll have to go to Alabama Department of Forensic Science for an autopsy, if that's what her family wants."

Beau, an oversized man Leigh guessed to be in his early forties, maneuvered to the end of the table for another photo. Which wasn't easy in such a tight space.

"What I can tell you is that she appears to have been strangled. You see these marks?" He offloaded his camera into one hand, pointing out the red, scabbed blotches across the victim's neck. A Columbia-branded vest attempted to contain his frame overlayed with a button-down shirt and slacks. Strawberry-blond hair swooped across his head in a desperate plea to hide a thinning hairline, but there was still enough to make it work. A full, well-kept beard had gone completely gray, testifying to experience. And burnout. "I believe these were created by the assailant's fingernails. I can't tell you if her trachea was crushed until we get the results from the autopsy, but the blood vessels in her eyes were ruptured. It's called petechial hemorrhage. A classic sign of strangulation. I'll swab the injuries around her neck for the forensic science department to see if her killer left behind any DNA and request a rush on the results, but right now, we're looking at about three months to get a response."

"Three months?" Detective Moore unwound her arms in the face of an obstacle for answers. "No. We need something now. Her family deserves to know what happened to her now. You've got to have more. Give me something I can work with, Beau."

Leigh's own emotions sparked at the constrained anger in the detective's voice. Because she'd been there. Forced to wait for the truth. Helpless in every way to aid someone she'd loved. But coroners weren't medical examiners. They didn't have the same power as a physician trained in forensics and toxicology. The coroner's office was meant to give accurate causes of death, provide closure to the victim's family, and guide them through the next steps. Beau Pierce's hands were tied by the very people who voted him into this office.

"I'm sorry, Detective. All I can tell you is that this appears to be an asphyxia by strangulation resulting in cutting off the supply of oxygen to the body. Manner of death is homicide." Beau's voice dropped from the too-high pitch that didn't match his size. "The heat and the fact she was left outdoors for a significant amount of time sped up decomposition. It will take a medical examiner to get any more specific answers."

"Was she strangled from the front or the back?" Leigh felt the detective's gaze on her, hot and fast. She didn't have anything to do with this investigation, but in Leigh's experience it was the smallest details could make or break a case. And if there was even a single lead that could give Detective Moore something to work from, she wanted to help her find it. Because not having answers was far more torture than facing the truth.

"From the front." Beau shuffled around the exam table, pulling down the sheet giving Ruby Davis's remains a modicum of privacy. "There are bruises over her ribs and chest. Same coloring as those around her neck. I'll have to take some X-rays, but my guess is she may have suffered a couple of fractured or broken ribs in the process."

Leigh chanced a glance toward the detective. That was more than a cause and mode of death. It was physical evidence.

"You're saying someone sat on her as they strangled her. Presumably heavier than she was?" A liveliness flooded into Detective Moore's frame.

"Yes. Based on the size of the indentations and the imprints left on her neck in addition to the damage to the ribs, I'd put my money on a male attacker." Beau moved the sheet back into place. "I didn't find any injuries around her mouth, wrists, or ankles that tell me she was bound, but there are significant signs of bruising and tears between her legs."

"She was raped." Detective Moore's voice detached, as if having an out-of-body experience. "How many times?"

"The medical examiner will be the one to determine the severity of the assault during the autopsy." Beau grabbed for the camera he'd set down at the head of the exam table. "I'm sorry I don't have more information for you at this time, Detectives. I'll send the toxicology and swabs to Mobile as fast as I can."

"Thank you, Beau. I know she'll be in good hands." Detective Moore headed for the exit, shoving through as though to escape for a full breath. A hand over her mouth, she seemed to forget Leigh was there at all as she stared out over an acre of perfect green grass surrounding the Baldwin County coroner's office and sheriff's office.

"This is more than a case for you." Leigh didn't have any reason to still be here. They both knew it, but the detective hadn't sent her packing yet. Progress. As far as she could tell, Ruby Davis's murder had nothing to do with Elyse's disappearance. The victimology didn't line up. There were differences in age, origin, and MO. This recent victim had been strangled while Elyse had left behind a pool of blood. But what were the chances of two disappearances in the same tourist town less than three weeks apart? Hesitation kept her planted in one spot as Detective Moore braced both hands on her knees. "Tell me about her. Ruby."

For a stretch of moments, Leigh didn't think the detective would answer. "Ruby Etta Davis was reported missing twenty-two days ago. Her guardian received a truancy message from the high school at ten fifteen a.m."

"Her guardian?" The victim's middle name latched into Leigh's brain. It was an unusual name, Etta. Not the kind of middle name most parents gave their kids. Unless to honor a family member or ancestor. "Has there been any contact with her parents?"

"Ruby lost her parents when she was five. The courts arranged to have her adopted by an aunt. Her mother's sister." Detective Moore flipped through the first few pages of her notebook. Leigh had known another investigator like her. Obsessed with potentially forgetting details that could make or break a case. Turned out, he'd only kept a detailed log to cover his murderous tracks. "Her guardian tried to make contact multiple times through the victim's cell phone, email, and friends. No one remembered seeing Ruby after school that Friday. The last reports were from the afternoon before as she was dropped off at her home by a friend. As the responding detective, I searched her room for signs of a secret boyfriend or anything that might tell us where she'd gone, but there hasn't been any progress in that regard. Friends told me there were no rivalries or problems at school. Her teachers hadn't noticed anything off about her mood or schoolwork, but it's hard to judge based on the fact there are thirty-plus students in each of their classrooms going through puberty at the same time. Ruby wasn't into drugs or sleeping with boys. It was like she'd just… disappeared."

Like Elyse. Without a trace. Except Elyse held to specific set of patterns and routines. She didn't have the impulsivity of a teenager looking for the next hit of dopamine with social media, friends, and risky behavior. Her friend arrived at the OG/GYN office at 7:00 a.m. without fail. She ate the same lunch every day. Homemade peanut butter and honey sandwich with green grapes, a few cubes of cheese, and a meat stick. It was easier for her to remember to pack her lunch that way. Make it as simple as possible. Elyse worked in tandem with Dr. Wilson throughout the day, taking notes, performing Pap smears, diagnosing issues for their patients. There'd been no hints of problems or an affair at work. Elyse would've told her. Though Leigh couldn't be sure of Wesley's fidelity at this point. Not after Leigh had learned about the time Elyse had gone through chemotherapy. But Leigh had no proof now. No reason to believe Wesley had hurt his wife. Yet.

"Ruby charmed everyone she ever met." Detective Moore got a better hold of herself, straightening. "I don't know if it was her smile or the way she seemed to always know exactly what people wanted to hear, but like any teenager, she used it to her advantage. She could get anyone—especially boys—to do what she wanted. Like a game. But Ruby is… was really sweet when there was no one to perform for. She liked mindless action films and monster movies. Godzilla especially. She and her guardian would spend hours together watching them on the weekends. They'd make popcorn and see what kind of weird combinations they could create. Like they were a real family."

Detective Moore let that hang for a moment. There was a softness in the way she said the victim's name. A love Leigh imagined she might feel toward her own adopted child one day. The same tone she'd found herself using when talking about her brother all those years ago.

Leigh closed the distance between them. "Considering the state of the body, Detective, I think you're aware of the possibilities that led to Ruby's disappearance. Had Ruby started her menstrual cycle yet?"

"No, but she was getting close." Detective Moore swiped her hand beneath her nose. An attempt to stay in the moment, to look at the case objectively. "I've interviewed the registered sex offenders in the area. There's no evidence to suggest one of them is responsible, but I haven't discounted the possibility either. Truth is, I didn't have much to go on. Until now."

A heaviness sank in Leigh's gut. The kind made of personal relationships with victims. Officers weren't allowed to investigate personal cases. Which meant Detective Moore hadn't divulged that information to her commanding officer or Gulf Shores brass. "You aren't just a detective investigating Ruby Davis's disappearance and murder, are you?"

"No, Agent Brody. I'm not." And the fact Detective Moore hadn't been able to keep her charge safe punctuated the sallowness in her expression. "Ruby was my niece."