Read Online Bones on Ice: A Novella by Kathy Reichs - Free Book Online

suggesting someone intentionally harmed my daughter?”
    “It’s a theory I will have to verify with more detailed analysis of the bones.”
    More silence. Then, “And how may I be of help?”
    “To study the skeletal trauma more closely I must—”
    “Do what you need to do. An open casket was never an option. But please. No more defacement than necessary. Is there more?”
    “You mentioned that a Taiwanese climbing team collected Brighton’s personal effects and returned them to you.” Perhaps a clue lurked among the tools of her trade. Right. And what were the chances she’d kept them all this time?
    “I have the box. But it will take some time to have it brought out of storage.”
    “I’d like to examine those items.”
    “With the exception of a necklace, I’ve removed nothing.” In a quieter voice. “Funny, but we always hope, don’t we?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Hope what? It was all a mistake and Brighton would come home someday? Evidence existed that would spur a large legal settlement?
    “One last thing.” I always hate making this request. It sounds so final. “Would you be willing—”
    “You’d like a DNA sample.” Hallis was way ahead of me.
    “Yes, ma’am. The queue for analysis can sometimes be long.”
    “Would you prefer a cheek swab from me or a sample of Brighton’s hair?”
    “If you have a brush that was used solely by your daughter, that would be perfect.”
    “Can you use a cutting from when she was young?”
    “The hair has to retain the root bulb, I’m afraid.” Has to have been forcibly removed.
    “I will have her brush ready for you tonight.”
    “I’m in my car now. Is there any way I could swing by in fifteen minutes?”
    A beat of hesitation. “Yes.”
    With that she was gone and Raleigh was back. We arranged for me to pick up the hairbrush immediately and return for the box from Everest after six. The diversion added no more than fifteen minutes to my drive.
    Entering the lab, I tossed a quick greeting to Mrs. Flowers, the receptionist, and hurried to autopsy room five, eager to collect samples from ME215-15 for DNA sequencing. After suiting up, I cut specimens from the untouched digits, placed them in avial, and marked the cover with the case number, the date, and my initials. Then, as a precautionary backup, I plucked several strands of hair, with root, and packaged them in the same manner.
    That done, I added the Ziploc containing Brighton Hallis’s brush and phoned Slidell. Detective Delightful didn’t answer, so I left a message asking that he collect the samples and deliver them to the CMPD forensics lab. Results wouldn’t come with TV crime drama dazzling speed, but turnaround times in Charlotte are far faster than average. This case wasn’t high priority, so I expected a report in a matter of weeks.
    Next, I checked an erasable board hanging in the hall. My lucky day. Joe Hawkins was on duty. The best death investigator on staff.
    A quick call, and Hawkins came up from the morgue. I explained and demonstrated what I wanted him to do.
    “You want me to make a cast of the stab wound located in the back of the neck near cervical vertebrae three and four.” He pointed it out. “And take those two vertebrae out and clean them.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then you want me to reflect the scalp and face so you can examine cranial trauma, especially near the nasal-maxillary areas in front and the parieto-occipital areas in back. That about it?”
    “Ink and roll her.” I considered. “While you’re at it, dissect out and clean the right ulna and left calcaneus. And go ahead and take X–rays of them. Could be useful if ID becomes complicated.” As in, you can’t get readable prints. “Can you manage all that today?”
    Hawkins checked his watch. “Maybe.”
    “Perfect.”
    “What do you want me to do with the scalp and face?”
    “Would removing them intact be too difficult?”
    Hawkins gave me the long Hawkins stare.
    “Place them in a formalin