Spiraled (Callahan & McLane Book 3) (6 page)

8

“Traffic,” Mason muttered in excuse for his lateness as he entered the autopsy suite. “The 205 freeway was a parking lot.”

Ray rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Shoulda left home earlier.”

Mason glared at him. Ray knew he was anal about being on time. He was going to hear about this for the next six months.

Dr. Seth Rutledge was speaking into the microphone over the autopsy table. He held a hand up at Mason, but didn’t pause in his recitation. Glancing at the white body on the table, Mason realized he’d missed the whole thing. That was fine with him. An autopsy wasn’t a surgery of tiny, delicate incisions. It was strong, long gashes and skin ripped from half the face. There was no need to be careful around arteries or worry about causing harm to the patient.

An assistant was stitching closed the big Y on the shooter’s chest, and the corpse’s scalp had clearly been folded back into place after Rutledge finished with the subject’s brain, except the hair didn’t look right. The young man’s hair and scalp dipped in concavities where hard skull should have provided support. Part of Mason wanted to walk over and straighten it. The rest of him wanted to turn around and go back to his car. The odor of burned bone from the skull saw lingered with other odors he didn’t want to think about.

“Anyone else make it in time?” Mason asked Ray.

“Two investigators from Washington County just left.”

Shit
.
No doubt the Washington County sheriff would hear that he’d missed the autopsy.

“We’ve got a good lead on an ID,” Ray said eagerly.

“Whatcha got?” Mason asked.

Ray pulled his notebook out of his shirt pocket. “Justin Yoder. Age twenty. His mom called in after hearing about the tattoo this morning. She says he didn’t come home from work yesterday, but his work claims he never showed up. Lives in Beaverton.”

“Only twenty? Did he look that young?” He looked back at the body. “What’s Rutledge think?”

“Says it’s possible.”

“What about dental comparisons?”

“His mother gave me the name of his dentist and they were open at seven this morning. They immediately emailed over current X-rays. Lacey is looking at them in her office and doing a comparison to the films she took earlier.”

Mason nodded, knowing Dr. Lacey Campbell was the odontologist for the medical examiner’s office. “Let’s go find her.” He glanced back at Dr. Rutledge, who was still recording his findings. “Anything else I should know about right away?”

Ray jerked his head toward the doors and they walked out of the suite. “Healthy kid. Fit. Had eggs and hash browns for breakfast along with orange juice.”

“Jesus Christ. You make it sound like he had an ordinary day planned.”

“Maybe he did.”

“You don’t walk into a mall and start shooting on a regular day.”

“So he should have done it on an empty stomach?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Tell me something else Dr. Rutledge found out about the shooter.”

“He blew a big hole in his brain and out the back of his skull.” Ray looked down at the floor as they strode down the hall, his usual vigor subdued.

Mason glanced sideways at him and mentally searched for the age of Ray’s son. He couldn’t be over fifteen
. . .
probably closer to twelve. He shoved all thoughts of his own son, Jake, out of his head. If anyone’s kid was close to the age of the kid on the table, it was Mason’s. “What kind of tattoo was on his upper arm?”

“Some sort of tribal thing. Rutledge photographed it. We couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. Sometimes there’s a name or letters hidden inside the shapes, but I couldn’t see it.”

“Could just be a pattern he liked,” Mason said. “Did the mother send a photo of her son’s tattoo?”

“She was trying to find one. Said she knew her son had pictures of it, but she didn’t. The description and location sounded right.”

They stopped outside an open office door, and Mason tentatively knocked on the frame. “Dr. Campbell?”

The woman at the computer spun around and smiled warmly. “Mason! Ray said you were on your way. And you know better than to call me Dr. Campbell. It makes me look around for my father.”

He couldn’t help his grin. He’d first met Lacey ages ago when she was a young athlete in college, and their paths had crossed again a few years back in a serial killer case. Now he considered her a good friend. She was in her thirties and shone with a beauty that made every man dream his dentist looked like her.

“Your father’s enjoying retirement?” Ray asked. Dr. James Campbell had been the chief medical examiner before Dr. Rutledge.

“He’s in Australia as we speak. I’m pretty sure he’s coming back.”

“Rutledge seems to be holding down the fort pretty well,” Mason said, forcing his tongue to work since he was slightly dumbstruck, as was usual when he was in her presence.

“He’s fantastic,” Lacey agreed. “You’ll want to know about Justin Yoder?”

Mason nodded.

Her smile vanished. “I haven’t finished my report, but it’s a match. That’s definitely him.”

Silence filled the small office, and she looked from Mason to Ray. “Too abrupt? Do you want me to show you how I know?”

“Please,” Mason asked. He trusted the petite dentist’s findings, but he liked to know the why.

She turned back to her computer. “The top films are from his dentist and the ones along the bottom here, I took this morning.” She pointed with a pencil. “We’re lucky he had good dental care. These top films are only three months old. As you can see, he’s had composite restorations placed here, here, and here.” She touched three teeth in the first film in the top row and then moved her pencil to the film at the bottom of the screen on the left. “Compare those three restorations to the same teeth down here. They’re identical in shape—all three of them. Another body
might
have composite fillings in the same teeth, but the shape will always be different. On the other side of his mouth he has a good-sized gap between his first and second maxillary molars. The film from his dentist shows decay starting on the distal of number fourteen.” She touched the tip of the pencil to a dark spot on a film on the right side of her screen, and then moved it down to the corresponding film at the bottom. “On the film I took, the decay is gone and replaced by a composite filling. I called the office and they confirmed that they placed the filling after taking the films.” She tapped the film. “There’s still a gap between those teeth that will continue to catch food. He’s going to need
 . . .
”

She stopped speaking and lowered the pencil. She slowly turned her chair around to face the detectives, her brown eyes soft. “I guess he won’t be needing anything,” she said quietly.

Mason sympathized. Beside him, Ray shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you, Lacey,” Mason said. “This will give us a jump start on figuring out why he did what he did.”

“It’s terrifying,” she answered. “I shop at that mall all the time. Where will someone strike next?”

“Our goal is to make sure there won’t be a next time,” answered Mason.

Ava sipped at her coffee, not tasting it, as she studied the bustling room at the community center. Sergeant Shaver had called, asking her to come back to Cedar Edge for a second interview. In her opinion someone had set up a decent investigation center. Lots of room, neatly arranged tables, a dozen computer stations, timelines, maps, and photos on the walls. The atmosphere was slightly different from that of centers she’d been in before. The urgency she associated with big cases was missing. Here the bad guy had already been brought down, and now police were searching for the why. Investigators were more relaxed, not saddled with the stress of finding the shooter before he hurt someone else.

Mason had called during her drive and told her the shooter had been positively identified. He and Ray were on their way to update the Washington County sheriff and then would be paying a visit to the young man’s family.

Twenty years old.

Why?

She chewed on the edge of her paper coffee cup.
What drives a twenty-year-old to murder strangers?
Dark eyes behind a mask flashed in her mind. He’d stared right at her and decided not to shoot.

Why?

On the wall across the room Ava recognized the layout of the Rivertown Mall. Labeled pins tracked the shooter’s path. She couldn’t read any of the notations, but she could see the colors and markings. She had a good idea what the three large red Xs stood for. She scanned the room for Sergeant Shaver. He’d promised to be right back five minutes ago. She stood and went across the room to study the map.

A small rectangle was labeled
SUNGLASSES KIOSK
and directly next to it was a blue X and a green X. The green one was labeled with her name and a line that traced to a mini-bio and her picture. She looked exhausted in the photo. She faintly remembered the sergeant’s snapping it at some point yesterday. Misty Helm was the blue X. Her photo had been taken as she lay on a stretcher. Ava touched Misty’s picture, wanting to wipe the blood from her cheek. A small dotted line led from where Misty had been shot to their waiting place by the kiosk. Not far from the kiosk was a larger red X next to a wall. A line led to a description.

Ava wiped at the sweat that abruptly formed on her upper lip and noticed that her hand felt like ice. Her vision tunneled slightly.

Uh-oh.
She recognized the symptoms of her blood pressure dropping.
Sit. Before you end up on the floor.

She grabbed a chair and sat. That was better. She bent over and rested her head between her knees, sucking in deep breaths.

Anthony Sweet. She hadn’t known the name of the third victim until this moment. His photo was of his crumpled body against the wall. The man who’d left the safety of his store to try to help her and Misty.

Does he have a family?

She didn’t want to know. Her vision cleared and she sat up, but she couldn’t look back at the map. Frustration shot through her. The person who’d caused the deaths and pain was gone, but how many people would suffer for years because of what he’d done? A need to fight back and strike out overwhelmed her, making her hands shake. Something raw deep inside her longed to make the killer hurt.

But he’s already dead.

She ached to bring him to justice; she could taste the need to do so, but knew it would never be satisfied.

What can I do?

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ava,” Sergeant Shaver said. “Things keep popping up around here. I guess that’s good—it means we’re getting closer to answers. I found this guy sticking his nose in things, too.” He pointed at Zander Wells with a thumb.

“Hey, Ava.” She felt the agent take a hard look at her, and she fought the urge to run a hand over her ponytail.
Do I look like someone who nearly fainted a minute ago?

“I heard you have a positive identification,” she said, tossing out a small bone to take the focus off her.

Shaver’s mustache twitched, and Zander lifted a brow.

“Mason didn’t tell me the name,” she clarified. “But he said it’s solid.”

“It is. But I asked you to come in to look over some videotape with me.” Shaver neatly changed the subject without revealing the name. “I had our techs patch together some different clips that I’d like your opinion on.” He waved for her to follow him to a bank of computer monitors. She sat as he logged in and opened a file. Zander stood behind them, his arms crossed on his chest. Ava tensed as the monitor showed a color recording of her and Misty walking down an aisle of the mall. The angle of the video was steep—probably shot from a rooftop camera. The two of them walked past the children’s play area, where one mother guided her son down the slide. Neither she nor Misty glanced at the two of them.

I didn’t give them a second thought when the shooting started.

Dread swept over her, and sweat beaded at her temples. The carefree boy and his mother were oblivious to the fact that death was about to strike.
Thank God I already know the ending to this movie.
She had no recollection of seeing the woman and boy after the shooting began. She blew out a breath and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Shaver take a close look at her.

On the video she gestured with her hands as she spoke to Misty. She couldn’t recall what they had been discussing. They moved out of the camera’s range, and the feed jumped to a new view. Still steep but from the opposite side of the mall walkway. She and Misty stopped as Misty lifted her arms in a yoga pose and Ava stepped in front of her to adjust Misty’s arms. Ava nodded, her memory returning. They’d been discussing a new position. On-screen, Misty silently jerked as Ava jumped, and then she shoved Misty to the ground, covering her with her body.

Ava looked away and wiped her cheeks. “Jesus H. Christ.” Her hands iced over, and her heart raced.

Shaver paused the video. “Your reactions were spot-on. You got her down.”

“He’s right, Ava,” Zander added. “Some people would give you a medal for that.”