Stone Maidens Read Online Free PDF Page B

fuzziness came from the fury of their motion.
    “Blowflies have a remarkable appetite for human flesh, but so does our killer, which doesn’t leave the flies much to feast on inside.” Prusik displayed the next picture taken nearer the cut.
    Higgins’s clipboard hit the floor. A muffled heaving was clearly audible. The young computer jock bumped into a few folding chairs before wrenching open the back door and disappearing down the hall.
    In the dark, a small grin perversely made its way across Prusik’s face.
    “Have you any better close-ups of the tissue around the neck lacerations?” Eisen poked his glasses up, concentrating. He was the best digital analyzer of crime photographs that Prusik knew. Eisen would digitally convert the images, overlaying any latent fingerprint or partial pattern retrieved against those in the FBI’s vast data banks. From the size of a clear thumbprint he had developed an ingenious technique to extrapolate the approximate height of a perp, often accurate to within a few centimeters. So far, no thumbprints had been lifted in this case.
    “One is coming up,” she said. “I knew you’d be asking.”
    The anthropologist’s eyes followed a series of deep contusions along the victim’s contorted neck that had resulted from an ugly wrenching. As everyone in the room studied the cruel markings, Prusik became aware of a throbbing in her palm. She took a breath and willed herself to relax her fist, clenched so tightly that two of her fingers were spasming. Then, abruptly, she flicked on the lights and returned to the front of the room.
    Tapping a pencil against his front teeth, Eisen spoke first. “Stains along the incision on Betsy Ryan suggest the perp used a carbon steel blade.”
    Higgins returned to the room and took a seat near the door.
    “Should we be checking morticians, their helpers?” Hughes asked, vigorously rubbing the bridge of his nose.
    “I assumed Higgins was,” Prusik responded. “Check morgue workers at area hospitals, too, Mr. Higgins.”
    The computer jock stirred in his seat. “Yes, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “What do you think he’s doing with their organs?”
    Prusik shaded a hand over her eyes. “Good to have you back among the living, Higgins. In answer to your question, I don’t know. The utter absence of any internal organs at the crime scene is dramatic, suggesting he is removing them from the site. Water is nearby. It enables him to wash up. I believe that our killer’s fascination with their internal organs goes further. That his removal of them completes some inward process.” Prusik yearned to know what.
    “In both cases, judging from the distance of the victims’ bodies from any road or point of easy access, I believe he is luring them, coaxing them to ride in a vehicle with him to a safer, preferred place. The police crime report from Blackie describes a trail of disturbed leaf piles down a steep-sided wooded ravine. I believe a key part of our man’s rules of engagement is in the chase, some kind of game he plays. Check psych records of felons released in the last five years with any history of cruelty to children or caught stalking them.” In a low, steady voice, Prusik continued, “In nature, the chase is a striking characteristic among predators. A mother cheetah always leaves her nearly full-grown adolescent cub to fend for itself. At first, the young cheetah is unable to kill. Why do you suppose that is, Higgins?”
    Higgins’s head rocked loosely backward, revealing a glistening forehead. “In—inexperience...I guess?”
    “The baby Thomson’s gazelle must run first. Running triggers the big cat. The kill instinct is tied to the run. The young cheetah must wait for the frightened gazelle to make its move before it can finish the job.”
    She stopped a few feet short of the new transferee. “The gazelle must gather enough courage to make a mad dash for it. When it does, the cheetah will stop it with a biting hold. So