The Bone Thief: A Body Farm Novel-5 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Willoughby’s limbs were missing.
    “Before you cut into the clothing, did you notice anything that made you think the body or the grave had been disturbed?”
    I shook my head.
    “And the clothing was undamaged?”
    “Well, the fabric was beginning to rot in places, but otherwise yes, it was intact.”
    “That means whoever took his arms and legs did it before he was buried,” he mused. “Not exactly a case of grave robbing. Mutilating a corpse, I guess, unless the limbs were amputated while he was still alive.”
    I shook my head again. “There’s no sign of bleeding or healing to the tissue at the shoulders and hips,” I explained. “That means he was already dead when he was cut.”
    “Hmm…theft of property? I don’t know—who owns the bodies in a cemetery?”
    I shrugged.
    “Fraud or breach of contract, maybe,” he mused, “if the funeral home didn’t provide the services it got paid for.” He massaged the back and sides of his neck, just below the base of his skull, even as his jaw muscles continued to knot rhythmically. “We need to get the evidence techs out here to go over the coffin and the body, see if they find anything that sheds light on this. After that I guess we need to send the body to the forensic center for a more detailed examination.”
    DeVriess took a step toward the coffin. “Detective,” he oozed in his smooth, courtroom voice, the one that sounded like old money, cigars, and fine whiskey, “surely I don’t need to remind you that I have a court order authorizing the exhumation of this body and the collection of DNA samples.”
    “Of course,” replied Culpepper, and DeVriess smiled warmly. The smile froze, though, when Culpepper added, “You surely don’t need to remind me. But this is now a crime scene, and the samples for your civil suit will have to wait until we’ve finished our search for evidence in the criminal case.”
    I could see DeVriess drawing himself up to bluster, so I reached out and touched his shoulder briefly. There was nothing to be gained—and certainly no fun to be had—in a graveside pissing match over a dismembered corpse. “Burt, your client’s gotten by without this paternity test for a lot of years already. You reckon maybe he could get by without it for maybe one or two more days?”
    DeVriess stared at me. I’d seen that stare a few times before, in court, just before Grease ripped into me on the witness stand. He looked from me to Miranda, as if to say,Did you see what he just did? Miranda simply shrugged and smiled, as if to say,He’s crazy, but he’s harmless. She held his gaze, and as swiftly as he’d puffed up, DeVriess suddenly deflated, and then he laughed.
    “Damned if I’m not going soft in my old age.”
    Culpepper was as startled by Burt’s acquiescence as Burt himself was. “Well, then. Great. I’ll call out the evidence techs. Dr. Brockton, I suspect we’d like you or the medical examiner to examine the body, so I’d like to arrange to have it transported to the forensic center once we clear the scene here.”
    I nodded. “Dr. Garcia’s still on medical leave, but he’s getting better. I imagine he’d be interested in taking a look at a case this unusual.” I pulled out my pocket calendar. “I’m flying to Washington tomorrow to give a talk at the Smithsonian. Could we stick this guy in the cooler until first thing Monday morning?”
    Remarkably, Culpepper and DeVriess both agreed that Monday morning was soon enough. I still had some work to do on the next day’s talk in Washington, so after packing the slightly soiled scissors and the unused Stryker saw and pliers in the back of my truck, Miranda and I departed for campus. DeVriess followed us down the driveway, leaving the body of Trey Willoughby—what was left of it—in the keeping of detective Culpepper and the forensic technicians who would comb the coffin for clues to the postmortem butchery.

CHAPTER 5
    THE DOT OF THE LASER POINTER DANCED ACROSS