His skin was black, charcoal black, where there was skin at all. Most places he had been scorched to the bone-more skeleton than corpse. The body was so grisly and inhuman it hardly seemed real-more like something that should be dangling from a string in a Halloween haunted house.
“What can you tell me about the cause of death?” Ben asked, looking away.
“Three guesses,” Tobias replied, chuckling amiably. “He burned to death. Although it’s possible that cardiac arrest killed him before the flames did.”
“Cardiac arrest?”
“Brought on by fear and panic and pain. I don’t know-maybe I just want to believe it. Anything that brought an early end to his suffering would be a mercy. No one needs to be conscious for every moment of burning alive.”
Ben didn’t doubt it. “The prosecutor told me Gardiner also suffered a gunshot wound.”
“Right. Just below the shoulder. Not that bad, all things considered, although it could’ve been fatal in time if it hadn’t been treated. But the fire killed him before that became an issue.”
“How can you tell?”
“It’s easier than you might think, even with a corpse that’s been as thoroughly destroyed as this one. Live tissue that’s been burned has a whole different look, feel, and consistency than dead tissue. If he was already dead before he burned, for instance, there would be no formation of hard scabs-what we call eschar. But as you can see, the scabs are everywhere-where the skin hasn’t been burned away altogether. So he wasn’t dead when he caught on fire.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“I think the fire followed the shooting very closely in time-maybe as soon as a minute after.”
Ben tried to imagine the scenario in his mind. First, the assailant shoots him at point-blank range. Then, just for good measure, he blows him up. “Seems like overkill.”
“Yeah. Especially since they were out in the heart of the forest. Gardiner may have still been able to move after he was shot, but he certainly couldn’t make it back to town. Without assistance, he would’ve died out there. Setting him on fire was unnecessary.”
“But he wasn’t set on fire,” Ben noted. “Not as such. The tree cutter had been bombed, and he was caught in the explosion. Would Gardiner have been able to start the tree cutter even after he was shot?”
Tobias shrugged. “It’s possible. There are stories of people suffering mortal wounds-even losing limbs-and still driving themselves to the hospital.”
“But why would he want to start a tree cutter? Surely the clear-cutting could wait until after he’d been to the hospital.”
“You’re out of my field of expertise now.”
“Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe he was planning to run over his assailant or snap him like a twig in those huge claw arms. Or maybe he was just going to drive the thing back to town, and that poor unfortunate soul made the mistake of starting the tree cutter and-”
Tobias looked up. “Boom.”
Ben nodded. “I haven’t seen your report yet. Are there any other points of interest? Distinguishing characteristics or oddities?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t find all that much. Fire is the great destroyer. It doesn’t leave many traces behind for forensic detectives to follow.”
“I can imagine,” Ben said, forcing himself to gaze once more at the charred remains. It seemed miraculous that any determinations could be made from a corpse in that horrible condition.
“There was one detail you might want to know about,” Tobias said. “One thing you wouldn’t normally expect to see. Did Granny tell you about the bite?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “No, she certainly did not. Did you find a bite mark?”
“Sure did.” He pulled out the corpse’s right arm and pointed to a shallow, barely noticeable indentation on the right forearm. “Least that’s what I think it is. Missed it the first two times I went over the corpse. Almost missed it the third. After burning, it’s hard to see anything.”
Fighting his instinctive revulsion, Ben crouched down and took a closer look at the blackened limb. He did see a few slight impressions, but he could never have identified them. “Not much there, is there?”
“Maybe not. But Granny was really excited when I told her about it.”
That caught Ben’s attention. “She was, huh?”
“Oh, you better believe it. She started jumping up and down, dancing around the morgue. Kept giving me these great big bear hugs, which as you can probably imagine was not an altogether displeasurable experience.”
Ben didn’t laugh. His mind was already a million miles away. What was Granny so excited about? He couldn’t believe this vague bite mark would be adequate to identify the assailant. “I’d like copies of anything you sent to Granny.”
“Sure, you’re entitled. I couldn’t figure out why the first lawyer on this case didn’t ask for them.”
“Criminal law isn’t his strong suit. That’s why he-” Ben stopped in mid-sentence. His mind suddenly flashed on something he had seen in the file yesterday afternoon. It hadn’t meant anything to him at the time, it seemed like a standard prosecution request for exemplars. Hair exemplars, blood exemplars-
And dental exemplars.
Of course, Ben’s predecessor saw no reason to object. So Zak had bitten down on a soft substance, probably wax, and left an impression of his teeth. Which Granny now had in her files, ready and waiting for trial.
Ben thanked the medical examiner and left the building. As he headed back toward his temporary office, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was way behind, that he was playing catch-up and coming up short. And if he didn’t get up to speed soon, before the trial began …
It would be too late. Especially for Zak.
Chapter 17
Peggy Carter was surprised to find the rest of the prosecution team already assembled in the conference room when she arrived. Judging by their posture and the expressions on their faces, they had been waiting for a good long time.
Granny was sitting at the head of the table, as indeed she always did. “Glad you could make it, Peggy.”
“I just found out about the meeting. I was in the library when the memo-”
“Sit down, Peggy.” Granny pointed toward an empty chair at the end of the conference table. “We’ve waited long enough.”
Peggy did as she was told. This was the way it always was with Granny. No chance to explain, no hope for redemption. Just a quick fix of guilt and on with business.
Peggy had been at the D.A.’s office for over a year now. And every day she came to like her esteemed boss a little less. When she had first signed on, she had been excited at the prospect of working under a fellow female, a serious-minded career woman who had broken through the glass ceiling against all odds and even gotten herself elected D.A. What had originally seemed like a breakthrough for the cause, though, now only seemed like another day in hell.
She wanted to quit, but at the moment, that just wasn’t an option. She had a twelve-year-old daughter at home, a daughter who depended on her single mom for her support. They were in debt and overextended. They couldn’t afford an interruption in income, even a brief one. And Peggy knew that if she gave up this job, the interim before she got her next would likely be more than brief. In Magic Valley, employment opportunities were none too extensive. Most of the logging corporations had in-house counsel departments, but none of them were hiring. There were no other large businesses or industries in the area. She could go into private practice, but she knew she’d never be able to pay the bills on what she’d make. And moving was too expensive even to contemplate.
So that left the D.A.’s office. Which at the moment meant working under Granville Adams. At least until the next election.
“As you probably already know, the Zakin trial has been set for Monday. Needless to say, I want every one of you giving this case your full-time attention, and then some. Understand?”