The next photograph was a close-up of Nicole’s face. Her skin had turned a light shade of purple and acquired a waxy, semi-shiny texture. Her lips had gone white from the lack of blood circulation, and even though her eyes were closed Hunter could tell that they had already begun to sink a little deeper into her skull. But what most caught the LAPD detective’s attention were the abrasions at the edges of her mouth, together with the small patch of skin that began at the corner of her lips, ran across her cheeks and disappeared behind her neck. It showed a very slight change of color, a little darker than the rest of the skin on her face, and that indicated that she’d been gagged with an overly tight restraint.
Hunter slowly flipped through the next few pictures and paused when he came to the ones showing a close-up of Nicole’s hands and feet. The skin around her wrists and ankles showed abrasions and a change of color that were similar to the ones on her face, but the marks were a lot more prominent around her ankles, which was a little strange. She had obviously been gagged, tied up and kept that way for a considerable amount of time, but for some reason the restraints around her ankles seemed to have been a lot tighter than the ones around her wrists or mouth.
The last photograph was a wide-angle shot of the location. Only then could Hunter and Garcia see that Nicole’s body had been left in the shade of a tall and bushy tree, with large, bright-green, heart-shaped leaves.
Hunter checked his watch — 7:48 a.m.
‘When is the autopsy being performed?’ he asked. ‘Has anyone expedited it?’
He knew that if the body had been found in the early hours of the morning there was no way it would still be on location. The heat of summer would speed up the decomposition process and vital clues, if any had been left on the body, ran a severe risk of being lost.
‘Yes,’ Captain Blake replied. ‘As you know, heinous crimes, or anything that belongs to the UV Unit, take priority with the coroner. As far as I know, it will be top of the list this morning with Doctor Hove.’
Nine
Los Angeles County’s Chief Medical Examiner, Doctor Carolyn Hove, had once again woken up too early, this time two hours before her alarm was due to go off.
It hadn’t always been like this. Doctor Hove had never had problems sleeping until her husband of twenty years passed away a year and a half ago, and now the nights seemed longer and lonelier than ever.
She opened her eyes, but didn’t move. Lying on her back, she simply stared at the white ceiling, pondering if she should try and get back to sleep or not.
What is the point? she thought. Her brain was now wide-awake. Sleep had most certainly left the building, and any attempt to get it back would be futile. She knew that well enough. She’d tried it plenty of times before.
Decision made, she wasted no more time, getting up and making her way into the kitchen where she prepared herself a strong cup of black coffee. After a quick shower, another cup of coffee and a small but very healthy breakfast, she was ready to leave.
At that time in the morning, and with less traffic than usual, it took her just twenty-two minutes to cover the almost ten miles between her home in West Hollywood and the coroner’s office on North Mission Road.
As the doctor swiped her security card at the door of the main building and stepped into the lobby, the young, tall and wiry attendant sitting behind the reception counter looked at her without much surprise.
‘Couldn’t sleep again, Doctor Hove?’
‘Something like that,’ she replied with a feeble smile.
‘I really don’t know how you do it, Doc. I just can’t function if I don’t get a good night’s sleep. Have you tried cherry juice, or chamomile and lavender tea? They work wonders for me.’
‘I don’t really have a problem falling asleep,’ she explained, approaching the counter. ‘What’s tricky is staying in that state for long enough.’
The attendant nodded once. ‘Oh, I see. Yep, I hate it when that happens too.’
‘So what did we get overnight?’ the doctor asked while she checked something on her cellphone.
‘Let me have a look.’ The attendant turned his attention to the computer on the counter in front of him and quickly typed something in. ‘Not that busy a night, Doc, you’ll be glad to know,’ he said after a few seconds. ‘Only ten new bodies. Five male, four female, and a kid. Five of them seem to be drug related, one from sexual play, and four, including the kid, are homicides.’
Doctor Hove nodded, unsurprised. She had been the Los Angeles County Chief Medical Examiner for three years, and a senior medical examiner for the city of Los Angeles for twenty years prior to that. When it came to violent deaths, very little ever shocked her.
‘Oh, wait,’ the attendant said, as the doctor began to turn away. ‘One of the bodies is flagged as urgent.’
Doctor Hove chuckled. ‘Yeah, well, they usually are. Everyone always needs their results ASAP.’
‘I know,’ the attendant replied, raising his eyebrows. ‘But this one says LAPD’s UV Unit.’
That made Doctor Hove pause, turn around and return to the counter. ‘Who is it?’
The assistant brought up the file on his screen.
‘Female, twenty years of age, already identified as Nicole Wilson. No apparent cause of death. She was brought in just a couple of hours ago, Doc.’
The doctor chewed on those facts for a moment. She knew that UV Unit detectives would be calling or dropping by first thing in the morning, and then every hour after that until they had their results. She quickly made her decision.
‘OK. Can you please get someone to take her body to theater one?’
The attendant checked the clock on the wall to his left. ‘You’re going to autopsy her now?’
Usually when Doctor Hove came in early she dealt mainly with paperwork.
‘That’s the idea.’
‘But as I’ve said, she just came in about two hours ago, Doc,’ the attendant retorted, looking slightly surprised. ‘She hasn’t been prepped or anything.’
Before any autopsy examination, the body needs to be prepared for the post mortem — undressed, then sprayed with fungicide and thoroughly washed with disinfectant soap. That job usually fell to the morgue orderlies, but their shift wouldn’t start for at least another hour and a half.
‘It’s OK,’ Doctor Hove replied. ‘I’ll prep the body myself, it’s not a problem.’
‘You’re the boss,’ the attendant said, noting something down on a notepad. ‘Would you like me to find you an assistant for the autopsy? I can probably find you one while you’re prepping the body.’
‘No need. I’ll be fine on my own.’
After scrubbing up and disinfecting her hands, Doctor Hove made her way to Autopsy Theater One. The body of Nicole Wilson had already been wheeled in and transferred to one of the two stainless-steel tables that occupied the middle of the spotlessly clean, white linoleum floor.
Nicole Wilson was lying on her back, arms loosely resting by her side. Livor mortis, the discoloration of the body by the settling of blood, showed that the body had most probably been moved after death. She had not been killed in the location where she was found. Rigor mortis had also come and gone, which told the doctor that she’d been dead for over twenty-four hours. Her facial features were now essentially unrecognizable.
Doctor Hove first freed the body from its shoes. There were no cuts to Nicole Wilson’s feet or toes, but the doctor immediately noticed the tiny abrasions and color change to her ankles — ligature marks. Next, she removed the CSULA sweatshirt, which had bits of grass and dirt stuck to it. As each item of clothing was taken from the body, it was carefully placed into a clear-plastic evidence bag, which would later be handed over to forensics for further examination. Blood, urine and hair samples would also be collected, and oral and anal swabs taken.