Kane shot him a glance. “I’ve seen this before to remove a person’s identity. Useless now with DNA but you would need a relative to check a sample against. If this man is from overseas, we may never identify him.” He made a mental note. “I’ll contact the FBI and see if they can track down any possible missing Chinese tourists. They would need visas, and if they overstayed they would be red-flagged.” He moved his gaze to the other sheet-covered gurney. “What do you have on Bailey?”
“In layman’s terms, Bailey died as a result of a fatal stab wound on the left side of the abdomen that perforated the abdominal aorta, causing a hemorrhage.” Wolfe only partially uncovered the body, offering Bailey the utmost respect.
Disassociating himself from the vibrant woman he had met, Kane peered at the corpse and then back at Wolfe. “So after the killer finished having his fun, he used a one-strike kill, which makes me believe he has military or self-defense training.” He snorted. “It was almost as if he was offering her mercy.”
“I don’t think so.” Emily moved into Kane’s periphery. “Whoever did this has no concept of the word. In my opinion, I think he tired of her; maybe she stopped fighting back or gave in too easily.” She looked up at Kane and her pale blue eyes searched his face. “I’ve been studying psychopathic behavior. I know a victim can’t reason with them, and if they try, the violence is usually more intense. The killer only gets enjoyment if the victim is suffering.”
Out of the mouths of babes. “Sure, that is the case, but there are so many different types of behavior and some forms merge with others. It’s not an exact science. We may have two separate killers, or one who hasn’t killed for a year. That in itself would be unusual at the level of violence of the cold case. Looking at the damage here, this killer has killed before and likely often.”
“Exactly, and here is where the similarities between the cases merge.” Wolfe covered Bailey and moved to the other gurney, pulling back the sheet with a flick of his wrist, displaying the skeleton of Paige Allen. “I found both Paige Allen and Dawson Sanders had gunshot wounds to the lumbar spine; both injuries would cause paralysis of the lower extremities. Bailey’s injury was identical; both her injury and Paige’s could have been inflicted by the same person—they are precisely the same. Not so for Sanders. As you know he received at least three shots in the back: One severed his spinal cord, the other two were kill shots.” He raised an eyebrow. “One thing is troubling me. In my opinion, from the angle of entry, both women were running at the time. The ammunition used is small caliber, so to disable rather than kill.”
Kane swallowed hard. He had seen the evidence of prolonged torture many times but placing this murder alongside the facial mutilation of Paige Allen’s skull did not fit the profile of his killer. “Okay, so we have similarities, but the cold case looks like a crime of passion. The killer ruined Paige’s face so why would he change his MO and not touch Bailey’s? I can’t see the comparison.”
“I can.” Webber’s voice seemed overloud in the small room. “From the marks on the bones of the forearms, Paige suffered deep lacerations consistent with defense wounds. She was pa
ralyzed but fought back hard.” He shrugged. “The killer got mad. He couldn’t control her so hit her, likely with his pistol.”
“The broken jaw is consistent with blunt force trauma.” Wolfe nodded. “I agree the butt of a pistol could have been used as the weapon.”
“That would account for the discrepancies.” Kane recreated the scene in his head. “Then we have Bailey, who often used her looks to get her own way. Rich and beautiful, she would likely try and reason with her killer or buy her way out of trouble.” He glanced at Wolfe. “By the time she allowed him to tie her hands above her head, it was too late.”
28
After the morgue, it was good to get outside and into the sunshine. Kane leaned against his rig and inhaled, replacing the disgusting stench in his lungs with the pine-scented breeze drifting from the forest. To his surprise, Emily came out the door and headed toward him. He smiled at her. She was a credit to Wolfe and one of a trio of fair-haired daughters, who all had their father’s brains “Getting some fresh air?”
“Well, no.” Emily lifted her chin and gave him a direct, no-nonsense look. “My dad would prefer if I didn’t offer an opinion during an autopsy briefing so I’ve come to apologize.”
Kane could see by her expression that she disagreed. “I thought you had a valid point but making conclusions without considering all the possibilities is a mistake.”
“I used the Hare psychopathy checklist and going on what we know I—”
“Wait! I have a few other things for you to factor in before you make a decision.” He looked down at her, so keen to learn but so young. “As we don’t have a suspect to run the test against, you have other things to consider; for instance, the influence of drugs. There are certain drugs that change a person’s brain chemistry. Some make people exhibit violent behavior. Look at people strung out on ice, for instance. If they exhibit violent behavior, how could you classify them with any degree of accuracy?”
“Now you’re angry with me?” She stared at the ground.
Kane barked out a laugh. “I’m not angry with you. I admire your tenacity.”
“Dad said you are the best profiler he has ever known. I know he is great at his job but I want to see forensic science from all angles. Knowing more about why people kill is important to me.” She let out a long sigh. “Do you mind if I ask you questions sometimes? I won’t be a pest, I promise.”
Kane’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket. “You can talk to me anytime but right now I have to take a call.” He watched her race back inside, blonde ponytail swinging, and lifted his phone to his ear. “Kane.”
“This is Rowley. We have a fight outside Fishing, Guns and Ammunition store. The proprietor of the store called it in. There are three men involved. I’ll need backup.”
Kane slipped behind the wheel of his car. “What’s your position?”
“I’m on Main Street heading there now.”
“I’m on my way.”
* * *
On arrival, he recognized the group of men surrounded by a gathering crowd: Leroy and Abel Finch, the brothers who lived in the mountains near Bear Peak, and the man they had tangled with at the Triple Z, Ethan Woods. The larger man, Woods, was handling himself well against both brothers. The smaller men ducked and weaved around him like annoying flies.
Kane pushed his way through the crowd with Rowley at his side. “Break it up.” He blocked a blow from one of the brothers and glared at him. “I said, break it up.” He had him turned around and cuffed before he knew what had happened then patted him down and took a hunting knife from his belt. He turned to the crowd. “Nothing to see, folks. On your way.”
Rowley soon had the other brother restrained and Kane turned his attention on Woods. “Turn around, hands on the wall, and assume the position.”
“No way.” Woods wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth and glared at him, fists raised.