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Chapter 9

MERCY

Mercy studied the Randolph County sheriff out of the corner of her eye as they stood next to the second body. Though of average height, Bree Taggert stood tall and confident. Mercy couldn’t see much of the sheriff, but she guessed they were close in age. Randolph County appeared to have its share of rural areas, and Mercy suspected Taggert had dealt with a lot of sexism during her career. But she had made it to the top.

Not many women become sheriff. Good for her.

Mercy felt guilty—but not very—that she couldn’t share the details of Paige Holcroft’s disappearance with the sheriff. Not yet. Taggert’s gaze had turned to stone when Mercy refused to answer her questions. But Mercy knew nothing about the type of person the sheriff was. She wouldn’t risk Paige’s case getting to the media.

She hoped these autopsies would provide answers.

Mercy had taken a hard look at the face on the first body, seeking hints of Paige in the features, but the decomposition was too advanced. The long brown hair was matted with gunk, its length hard to determine.

On the table before her, the second victim’s face was also not identifiable.

Dr. Jones caught Mercy’s gaze. “This body has been dead much longer than two weeks.”

Mercy looked at the pink nails that matched the first victim’s. And the shade Mercy had seen on the Holcrofts’ security camera.

If Paige is the first body, she’s tied to this woman somehow.

“I’m still interested,” Mercy said. “But before you tell us about the second, could you compare these dental films to the first victim?”

“I haven’t taken dental films yet,” said the medical examiner. “I was waiting to remove the ball gag so Sheriff Taggert could watch.” She gestured at her assistant. “Could you start the films?” He nodded.

Mercy clenched the file in her hands.

I’m so close to an answer.

“I’m not an odontologist,” Dr. Jones said firmly, looking Mercy in the eye. “That exam will be done later this afternoon. How current are your films?”

“Three months.”

Dr. Jones nodded. “That will be helpful. Teeth usually don’t change much in three months.”

“Now can we discuss the second vic?” Sheriff Taggert asked.

Dr. Jones launched into a briefing, and Mercy tried to pay attention.

Mercy’s last two weeks had been a blur of digging for leads and scrambling to keep Paige’s disappearance out of the media. She didn’t believe the senator was doing the right thing refusing to go public—they needed more leads. His wife had begged him to take it public too, but he’d held firm. The lead Mercy was currently following had come from Paige’s cell phone records. Numerous calls had been made to and from an upstate New York phone number. But the number had led nowhere specific. It’d belonged to a burner phone and a dead end.

Mercy had been focused on other leads when her office’s data analyst had discovered an online article about a Randolph County news conference yesterday announcing two dead women found in suitcases. When Mercy heard about the nail polish, hair color, and the fact that the women could be young, she got on a plane.

She’d rented a car at the Albany airport, made some calls, and learned that the sheriff was at the medical examiner’s office for the women’s autopsies, so she’d driven straight there.

Mercy glanced back at the first body. If that was Paige, she was a long way from home.

Mercy’s team had combed reports and video from Oregon airports and bus and train stations with no results. It had been frustrating work since Paige was most likely using a different name and had possibly acquired new ID.

Mercy studied the second body. She was shrunken and leathery, her skin in shades of black and brown with some white patches that looked like mold. She looked as if she’d been baked.

“Like the first body, we cut off the ropes, protecting the knots for forensics,” Dr. Jones was saying as she worked the second woman’s ball gag out of the mouth. “Her hands were bound behind her with the rope coiled around them several times. She is eighty-four pounds and around five foot two. I think she’s a little older than our first victim. I estimate her to be in her late twenties to late thirties. And as I said earlier, she has the same tattoo in the same place as the first victim.”

“Where?” asked Mercy, realizing her late arrival had made her miss something important.

“Right over the heart,” said Dr. Jones, indicating a darker area.

Mercy moved closer to see. The tattoo was made of chain links in the shape of a heart.

Why do they have matching tattoos?

Paige’s mother had said she didn’t have tattoos. But Paige could have kept one a secret.

“Can you tell the cause of death?” asked the sheriff.

“Her hyoid bone was broken,” said Dr. Jones. “So strangulation is a strong possibility.”

“How long has she been dead?” Mercy asked.

“I don’t know yet,” said the doctor. “She’s partially mummified. That’s why she looks so dried out. Testing will help, but I don’t know how accurate it will be at this advanced stage of mummification.”

“How does mummification happen?” asked the sheriff.

“Usually dry air,” said the ME. “Extreme cold can do it. Or hot temperatures and an arid environment. We’re too humid around here. Most likely this happened in an enclosure of some sort.”

“They were found outdoors in the same location,” said Mercy. “But they came from different types of environments?”

“Yes. The decomposition of the first woman is what I would expect to find on a body that had been abandoned in our current weather.”

“What happened to this woman’s hands?” asked Mercy. The second victim’s fingers were swollen and much paler than the rest of the body.

“We rehydrated her fingers. The mummification simply dried her fingers; they didn’t decompose,” said Dr. Jones. “So we managed to get fingerprints. We’ll run them soon.”

“Nice work,” said Mercy. The woman had died too long ago to be Paige, but Mercy still cared and hoped that she could be identified.

The sheriff turned to Mercy. “This can’t be your girl,” she stated.

“Correct.”

“But the first one could be?” Taggert asked, impatience in her tone.

“Maybe.” Mercy did not like keeping her cards so close to her chest.

I have no choice right now.

Taggert’s hazel gaze bored through her. “Let’s talk in my office.”

“Gladly.”

But I can’t tell you much else.