Read Online Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot
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few mi– ”
“Ha,” Dr. Brownson said, with unconvincing joviality, “Livingstone is a hack. He couldn’t distinguish a homo sapien from a homophone.”
They smiled at each other, though Harper couldn’t help noticing the pained look in Dr. Brownson’s eyes. He took a deep breath, shuffling his feet and smoothing his clothes briskly, feeling ever more lost under the gaze of the woman he loved.
“Married. Of course. Why wouldn’t you be? Sorry. Got it wrong, obviously. You know me, imagination like a unicorn – fantastical! Never was good with people – give me some dusty, dry old bones any day!”
Harper smiled sweetly, hoping it would soothe Dr. Brownson’s embarrassment and hurt feelings, but the beauty of it only made his pining more sorrowful. Somehow, he managed to force a little laugh which sounded shallow in the long echoing emptiness of the hospital hallway.
“Perhaps you should go home, Robert.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” he said, after a few deep breaths. “There’s only really one thing that will take my mind off this, and that’s work. Lead the way, Dr. Jones.”
Harper led Dr. Brownson back into the morgue. There were a few snickers and giggles, but Harper quickly stared those down. She stood beside the cranium on the table and was joined by Dr. Brownson.
“So what do you estimate for an age?”
“Fifteen, sixteen. Certainly fits the profile of a girl that age,” Dr. Brownson said, briskly. “The bone remodeling on the hips hasn’t deteriorated much. That, combined with the fully–grown tibia makes it a near certainty.”
A few of the younger team members gathered around the table, still smiling at the doctor’s earlier antics. Harper cast them a steely look to remind them that mockery would not be tolerated.
“This damage to the cranial cavity is very interesting.”
“We thought so too,” piped up a rather confident young male assistant. “But there was a tree root grown through it. Because of that, we thought the damage to the skull likely occurred after death, posthumously.”
Dr. Brownson glanced quickly at the assistant.
“The root that went through the bottom of her skull?”
The assistant nodded, smiling.
“That’s a rather long leap of logic. You assume a root that was weak enough to go around the jawline, was suddenly strong enough to burst through the cranium? I have to disagree with your conclusion there, young man. This cranium was crushed before the root began growing through it. The damage may have increased, but if you look at the skull in profile, you can clearly see how it has been altered by a blow.”
The young man shared an abashed glance with his equally-young neighbor, his earlier silent mockery of Dr. Brownson quickly dissipating in the face of his humiliation.
“This is strange,” Dr. Brownson said, as he probed inside the skull. Slowly, he pulled out a wrinkly object from its center: A shriveled apple.
“Wow!” came a voice from one of the assembled team members. “How did that get there?”
Dr. Brownson shook his head. “These entire remains present a box of mysteries. Look at these fractures along the arms and legs. They’re small, but they were undoubtedly created during this person’s lifetime. If you look closely,” he said, leaning to inspect the bones and rub away some of the dirt, “you can even find evidence of healing. This kind of healing occurs in childhood.”
“What does it mean?” the young man asked again, his cockiness giving way to genuine curiosity.
“This person was beaten throughout her lifetime. Since childhood, in fact. I’d even posit that the beatings increased in severity. She was a healthy person so they may not have been obvious, and they quickly healed, but they were severe nonetheless.”
“That’s horrendous!” came a voice from around the table again.
“Indeed,” replied Dr. Brownson.
“And the apple?” asked the young man, respect for Dr. Brownson now having replaced his earlier
“Ha,” Dr. Brownson said, with unconvincing joviality, “Livingstone is a hack. He couldn’t distinguish a homo sapien from a homophone.”
They smiled at each other, though Harper couldn’t help noticing the pained look in Dr. Brownson’s eyes. He took a deep breath, shuffling his feet and smoothing his clothes briskly, feeling ever more lost under the gaze of the woman he loved.
“Married. Of course. Why wouldn’t you be? Sorry. Got it wrong, obviously. You know me, imagination like a unicorn – fantastical! Never was good with people – give me some dusty, dry old bones any day!”
Harper smiled sweetly, hoping it would soothe Dr. Brownson’s embarrassment and hurt feelings, but the beauty of it only made his pining more sorrowful. Somehow, he managed to force a little laugh which sounded shallow in the long echoing emptiness of the hospital hallway.
“Perhaps you should go home, Robert.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” he said, after a few deep breaths. “There’s only really one thing that will take my mind off this, and that’s work. Lead the way, Dr. Jones.”
Harper led Dr. Brownson back into the morgue. There were a few snickers and giggles, but Harper quickly stared those down. She stood beside the cranium on the table and was joined by Dr. Brownson.
“So what do you estimate for an age?”
“Fifteen, sixteen. Certainly fits the profile of a girl that age,” Dr. Brownson said, briskly. “The bone remodeling on the hips hasn’t deteriorated much. That, combined with the fully–grown tibia makes it a near certainty.”
A few of the younger team members gathered around the table, still smiling at the doctor’s earlier antics. Harper cast them a steely look to remind them that mockery would not be tolerated.
“This damage to the cranial cavity is very interesting.”
“We thought so too,” piped up a rather confident young male assistant. “But there was a tree root grown through it. Because of that, we thought the damage to the skull likely occurred after death, posthumously.”
Dr. Brownson glanced quickly at the assistant.
“The root that went through the bottom of her skull?”
The assistant nodded, smiling.
“That’s a rather long leap of logic. You assume a root that was weak enough to go around the jawline, was suddenly strong enough to burst through the cranium? I have to disagree with your conclusion there, young man. This cranium was crushed before the root began growing through it. The damage may have increased, but if you look at the skull in profile, you can clearly see how it has been altered by a blow.”
The young man shared an abashed glance with his equally-young neighbor, his earlier silent mockery of Dr. Brownson quickly dissipating in the face of his humiliation.
“This is strange,” Dr. Brownson said, as he probed inside the skull. Slowly, he pulled out a wrinkly object from its center: A shriveled apple.
“Wow!” came a voice from one of the assembled team members. “How did that get there?”
Dr. Brownson shook his head. “These entire remains present a box of mysteries. Look at these fractures along the arms and legs. They’re small, but they were undoubtedly created during this person’s lifetime. If you look closely,” he said, leaning to inspect the bones and rub away some of the dirt, “you can even find evidence of healing. This kind of healing occurs in childhood.”
“What does it mean?” the young man asked again, his cockiness giving way to genuine curiosity.
“This person was beaten throughout her lifetime. Since childhood, in fact. I’d even posit that the beatings increased in severity. She was a healthy person so they may not have been obvious, and they quickly healed, but they were severe nonetheless.”
“That’s horrendous!” came a voice from around the table again.
“Indeed,” replied Dr. Brownson.
“And the apple?” asked the young man, respect for Dr. Brownson now having replaced his earlier
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