"That's right." She picked up a small plastic bottle. Inside were several strands of a black material.
"Found some of these under her right thumbnail and left index finger and another caught in her hair."
Michelle squinted at the evidence. "Looks like nylon."
"From a mask?" Sean opined.
"The guy I saw wore a black mask," said Michelle. "Pam reaches back, gouges at his face with her hands. She gets the nylon under her nails."
"Did you see anything else?" asked Magoulas.
"Not really. I'm pretty observant, but the guy was shooting at me with an MP5. Came within an inch of shredding me instead of a tree. I decided it was smarter to stay alive than to get a positive ID on the shooter."
Magoulas looked at her wide-eyed. "Works for me."
"Anything on the letters on her arms?" Sean asked, as he indicated them on the body. They were harder to read now because of the discoloration of Pam's decaying skin. The dead flesh seemed to be absorbing the permanent ink. Rather than letters, they now appeared to be some sort of skin disease, or else the symbols of some insane human cataloguing process.
"I'm a pathologist, not a linguistic expert. It's black ink, probably from a broad-tipped pen like a Sharpie, written in block letters, and the penmanship, in my humble opinion, isn't great. I'm fluent in Spanish, but that's not Spanish. It's not any other Romance language. It's obviously not Chinese or Russian. Wrong alphabet."
"Maybe an African tribal language?" suggested Sean.
Michelle said, "But like Russian and Chinese I don't think they'd be using an English alphabet. Maybe it's just gibberish to throw us off."
"Okay, anything else of interest?" Sean asked.
"Yeah, that's some serious red hair the lady had. I've cut up lots of redheads, but she takes the cake. I almost needed sunglasses to do the post."
"And how is that relevant to the investigation?" asked Michelle.
"He didn't ask for relevant, he asked for interest." She added with a grin, "Hey, even MEs need to lighten up every once in a while. Otherwise, it could get depressing around here."
"Okay," said Sean. "I'll play along. Anything else of relevance?"
"Lady's had kids."
"We know that."
"Two C-sections." She indicated the old suture tracks on Pam's belly paralleling the Y-cut. They looked like faded zippers.
"And the third vaginally," added Sean.
"Impossible," said Magoulas.
"What?" Sean said sharply.
"The visual exam showed her pelvic bones were unusually configured and her birth canal was abnormally narrow: The X-ray film confirmed those conclusions. And while it's hard to tell at the autopsy level, she appears to have had an SI joint dysfunction; she was probably born with it. Bottom line, no ob-gyn would've gone the vaginal route with the lady unless they wanted to lose their malpractice insurance; way too risky. She'd have to deliver by C."
She glanced at Sean and Michelle, whose gazes were locked on Pam Dutton's savaged belly, as though the answers they craved would float from there and into them.
"Is that relevant?" asked Magoulas, looking at them inquisitively.
Sean finally pulled his gaze away from the old surgical scars and the more recent incision. "You could say it's of interest."
CHAPTER 18
AN HOUR LATER they pulled into the parking lot of a two-story building at an office park in Loudon County.
"How'd you know where he worked?" asked Michelle.
"I'm a friend of the family." He paused. "And I snitched a business card from Tuck's bedroom."
"So one of the kids was not Pam's? Only which one?"
"Pam's a redhead and Tuck has blond hair. Willa has really dark hair. The other two kids are towheads."
"So even though it's a recessive gene maybe the red hair was relevant."
"And of interest."
Inside, Sean and Michelle strolled up to the receptionist's desk.
"I'm Sean King. This is my partner, Michelle Maxwell. We're representing Tuck Dutton in this awful business with his family."
The receptionist, a young woman with short brown hair and wide sad eyes, said, "Oh, God, I know, we've all heard. It's horrible. How is he doing?"
"Not that well, actually. He asked us to come by his office and pick up some things."
"I hope he's not concerned about work at a time like this."
Sean leaned in closer. "I think it's the only thing keeping him going, actually. We just came from the hospital."
"You say you're representing him?" the woman said slowly. "Are you lawyers?"
Sean flashed his credentials. "Private investigators. We're working to find out who did this and also to get Willa back."
"Oh, God, I wish you luck. Willa came in here a few times. What a super little girl."
"Absolutely," said Michelle. "And in kidnapping cases time is of the essence. That's why Tuck wanted us to look at anything he was working on that might tie into the case."
She looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I see. Well, a lot of things Mr. Dutton's working on are sort of, well, confidential. You know, proprietary stuff."
Sean smiled. "I understand that completely. He told us as much. Maybe there's someone here who can help us?"
The woman smiled, obviously grateful to pass the situation on to someone else. "Absolutely. Let me call Mr. Hilal."
She picked up the phone and a few minutes later a tall, thin, balding man in his forties came into the lobby. "I'm David Hilal. Can I help you?"
Sean explained why they were there.
"I see." Hilal rubbed his chin. "Come on back and let's discuss this."
They followed him to his office. He closed the door and sat across from them.
"How is Tuck?"
Sean answered. "Physically, he'll recover. The emotional part is a different story."
"It was horrible. I couldn't believe it when I heard."
"I know your firm is involved in some sensitive biodefense work. Tuck said you were in the middle of trying to get a big government contract in that field?"
"That's right. We're a subcontractor on the bid. But if we win it, it'll be huge for us. Several years' worth of business. Tuck was devoting a lot of time to it. As we all were."
"And that's why he was down in Jacksonville on the day it happened?"
"That's… right," Hilal said hesitantly.
Michelle added, "Well, was it or wasn't it?"
Hilal looked uncomfortable. "This is really Tuck's company. I'm only his partner."
"We're working with Tuck," said Sean. "We just want the truth to come out. And we want to find out who killed Pam Dutton. And we want to find Willa. I assume Tuck wants that too."
"This is awkward," said Hilal. "I mean, it's not really my place."
Michelle leaned forward and tapped her finger on the man's desk. "We're talking about a little girl's life."
Hilal slumped back in his chair. "Okay, I think Tuck was down in Jacksonville with someone."
"Someone? He said he was down there at the office the company maintains to work on the project. Is that not right?"
"No, we do have an office there. It's staffed with only one person, though. A woman."
Sean and Michelle exchanged glances. "This woman have a name?" he asked.
"Cassandra. Cassandra Mallory. She was working on the proposal. We hired her about six months ago. She has incredible contacts at DHS. Lots of people wanted her."
"Because she could help get them business?"
"Government agencies are like anything else. Winning contracts is built on relationships and trust. The Feds like comfort and familiarity. Cassandra being part of our proposal would help us immeasurably."
"And Tuck was down there with her. Are you saying in something other than a professional way?"
"She's a very attractive woman. Very bright. Blonde, nice tan, favors short skirts," Hilal added in an embarrassed tone. "She and Tuck really hit it off. Her expertise wasn't on the technical side, it was in sales. And the lady could sell. Pretty much anything."
Sean leaned forward. "Was Tuck having an affair with this woman?"