Page 35 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dana found herself standing next to a tombstone adorned with two sullen cherubs.

Their stone tears forever staining the burial plot they watched over.

Moving respectfully to the side, she gave the angels a wide berth, planning to hang back so as not to be in the way of the investigation.

But George had other plans. He beckoned her over to where he stood by the motionless body.

Straightening her spine, Dana steeled herself and joined him.

“What do you see?” George asked.

Dana focused her senses, forcing herself to look beyond the lifeless body displayed in front of her.

The victim was female, young—barely twenty, if Dana had to guess.

She wore a gauzy white knee-length dress that exposed the unnaturally pale skin of her shins and bare feet.

Her equally pale arms were crossed, resting on her stomach, hand over hand—a sign of reverence and remorse.

Dana always found it strange that after extinguishing a life, a killer could be compelled by compassion.

Her astute gaze continued over the body, stopping at the ivory death mask covering the victim’s face. Even from a distance, Dana could tell it wasn’t authentic, but still she moved closer, drawn in against her will .

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to the mask.

George handed Dana a pair of latex gloves.

Donning them with practiced ease, she crouched next to the victim.

The sterile scent of antiseptic burned her nostrils.

Dana carefully lifted the mask from the woman’s face.

Beneath it, the victim’s expression was eerily serene.

The only trace of trauma was a small trickle of dried blood from her left nostril.

With the mask removed, the scent of disinfectant grew stronger. “Was the last victim embalmed?” Dana asked.

“Why do you ask?” George countered.

“The smell.” Dana motioned him closer. “It’s unmistakable.”

George leaned in, taking a whiff. “Smells like pickles,” he admitted.

“Exactly. The pickle-like odor is a common side effect of the embalming process. As the liquid leaches from the body it becomes a gas, expelling the odor. It’s part of a volatile organic compound,” she said, standing.

George stood too, nodding though he looked lost in thought. “I didn’t notice the scent on the first victim, but it took us longer to get to the scene. Plus, with the heat of the day …” He shook his head. “I’ll make a note to ask the coroner to look into the embalming angle.”

“Ask if the first victim was drained of blood, too,” Dana added.

George frowned. “How did you know that?”

Dana pointed to the blood near the victim’s nose.

“The Egyptians used to begin the embalming process by piercing the anterior skull base through the nasal passage to remove the brain before then inserting a tube through the nasopharynx to siphon the blood before extracting the organs to place in jars as offerings to the gods.”

“A little nosebleed tells you all that?” Neville asked.

Dana shrugged.

“Any number of things could’ve caused a nosebleed,” LaSalle argued.

“True,” Dana admitted. “But based on the fact that your first victim was also drained of blood, and this victim’s lividity, the nosebleed was most likely caused by a transnasal craniotomy prior to embalming.”

Dana waited for further objection, but the air around her hung with astonished silence.

Looking around, she noticed LaSalle, Neville, and the rest of the NOPD officers looking at her the way Jake used to when they’d first started working together—like she truly was the witch doctor everyone claimed.

The only one who didn’t seem bothered by her extensive knowledge of the dark arts of death was George.

Instead, he appeared to be fighting his amusement.

“What?” she challenged. “You asked me what I saw.”

“That I did.” He smirked. “So transnasal craniotomy, huh?”

Dana nodded. “It’s an old technique, but effective. It was actually still practiced in Europe until the twentieth century. I think you’ll find it was used on your victim, prior to the draining of her blood.”

“You know who else drains victims of blood?” another officer teased. “Vampires,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm as he made the sign of the cross.

Dana ignored the jab, refocusing on the mask she still held. As expected, she saw it was a fake. “Is this the same kind of mask you found on the other victim?” she asked.

George nodded.

“Then I’m not sure I can be of much assistance.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“This mask is a reproduction, and therefore has no relation to anything historically vampiric, or my field of study.” She flipped it over in her hands to show the tiny numbers on the back.

“These are lot numbers. This mask was machine-made, then an artist added hand painted details overtop to make it look more authentic. The real ones were handmade from paper and gesso, and signed by the artists. Lot numbers weren’t introduced until machines started to churn them out at a faster rate.

This is a good dupe, probably pricey, but still not the real thing. ”

“Why go through the trouble to put an expensive mask on her?” Neville asked.

“Maybe she was already wearing it,” LaSalle offered. “Look at the way she’s dressed. The Casquette Girl festival was a few days ago. Mask could’ve been part of her costume.”

“Seems more likely our killer has an infatuation with New Orleans’s folklore,” argued Neville.

“The last victim was dressed like this?” asked Dana.

“Identically,” George confirmed.

Dana pondered that for a moment. “Could the unsub have snatched both women from the Casquette Girl festival?”

“And what?” LaSalle pushed. “Killed one right away and decided to keep this one captive for a few days?”

Neville exhaled. “If that’s the case, there’s no telling how many more masked corpses to expect.”

“Speculation isn’t going to get us anywhere,” George interrupted. “I want this scene secured and scoured. Neville, get me the cemetery’s surveillance tapes and all the footage from the street cams in the surrounding area. Whoever’s doing this is bringing the bodies into the cemetery somehow.”

George turned to LaSalle. “I want a list of anyone who has access. Groundskeepers, tour guides, funeral homes. Cross-reference it with the list of those with access to St. Louis No. 1. Flag anyone who shows up on both. I want to speak to each one personally.”

“On it,” the ambitious officer said, striding off to get started as George waved over the crime scene techs, signaling it was time to begin the tedious task of cataloging the scene.

Dana wasn’t eager to witness the intrusive process. She’d seen enough evidence markers to last a lifetime.