Dr. Watterson pulled on rubber gloves. “Usually I don’t have the pleasure of seeing you twice in a week.”
“Not that I don’t like you, doc, but this isn’t my idea of a fun date.”
The doctor chuckled. “You weren’t the pretty face I was imagining when I started this day.”
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”
Dr. Watterson pulled down the microphone, suspended over the table, until it was inches from his mouth. He clicked it on and pulled back the sheet covering the body.
Sara Wentworth’s pale bluish body lay on the table still and flaccid. Her head rested on a block and her blond hair was brushed off her face. The tech had removed her make-up. She’d been a pretty woman. And it was clear she’d taken pride in her appearance. Her skin was in excellent shape. Her hair neatly trimmed. Her nails manicured. She’d not scrimped on herself.
“Not often we have someone freeze to death in Texas during such a bitch of a heat wave.”
Bragg donned rubber gloves and approached the table. “No, I suppose you don’t.”
“I’ve sent her blood off for analysis so we’ll know soon if she had drugs in her system. There is no sign of physical trauma on her body. No defensive wounds.”
“Like Rory Edwards.”
“Yes.”
“You think this is a suicide?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say right now.”
Bragg thought about the red bracelet. She’d worn one and so had Rory. Could the two have had something going on no one knew about? His death had clearly been assisted, whereas hers showed no signs of a second party.
Winchester was running the numbers on Wentworth’s phone and searching for connections to Rory and Greer.
“I did find an interesting fact about her.” The doctor walked from the head of the table to the foot. “Look at her left foot.”
He glanced at the pale, long, manicured nails and instantly saw what the doctor found odd. “She’s missing her two small toes.”
“A recent injury?”
Watterson turned the foot so Bragg had a full view. “No. They’ve been gone a long time.”
“Birth defect?”
“No. Look closely, and you’ll see suture lines. The toes were removed.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It could have been an accident, but given her cause of death the first thought that comes to mind would be frostbite.”
Bragg leaned in and studied the old injury. “Frostbite?”
Dr. Watterson peered through protective goggles. “Sure, if she’d been exposed to the elements for a long time she could well have lost toes or fingers.”
“I asked her parents directly if she’d had any mental instability problems and they said no.”
“Might not have been a suicide attempt. Could have been a ski accident. And remember, frostbite is a guess. She could have dropped a rock on her foot or God knows what.”
Bragg would have bet a month’s paycheck Sara’s past included more instability than her parents had conceded. “I’ll see if I can find her medical records.”
Dr. Watterson reached for his scalpel and made a neat clean Y in the chest’s center. “I’d be curious myself.”
The doctor continued the exam for several hours while Bragg watched. After he’d sutured her back together and covered her with a sheet, the doctor shook his head. “I can find nothing wrong with her. She was a healthy woman.”
“So why’d she end up dead in a freezer in East Austin?”
Willie Nelson’s “Georgia on My Mind” played on the radio as Greer studied the stack of invoices on her desk. Several times she’d lost her train of thought and had had to recalculate a column of numbers. When she added a row of numbers and came up with a different answer for the third time, she tossed her pencil on the desk and sat back in her chair.
She glanced out the window and saw Mitch working with the horses. He’d barely spoken since his arrival, but she’d noticed he carried a little less worry in his shoulders. His patience with the horses remained endless even when Beauty nipped or Buttercup lagged. And José had said he listened well in the fields and had caught on quickly with operating the equipment.
At first blush she’d never have put Mitch and Bragg together but the more she’d watched him today the more she’d seen similarities. Mitch’s coloring was lighter, but he had a square jaw like his uncle and he carried himself with the same straight-backed posture. Both were over six feet and though Bragg had a broader chest Mitch would fill out more given time.
Bragg.
Why did her thoughts keep circling back to Bragg?
The man didn’t trust her. His distrust reflected in his gray eyes. Though he’d kept silent about Mitch’s working here, he didn’t like it.
She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to work away the fatigue. She didn’t have time to worry over what was out of her control.
As she pushed away from the books, the afternoon news started. She was half listening when she heard the newscaster say, “Woman found frozen to death in downtown Austin.”
The temperatures had been well over a hundred the last few days and the idea a woman freezing to death struck her more as wrong. The reporter gave scant details so she switched to another radio station hoping another report would air. When she found none, she turned to her computer and searched the story. On the newspaper Web site she spotted the small blurb: The Austin resident, 32, was found dead in an East Austin warehouse freezer.
She sat back in her chair, thinking back to another girl she’d known who had nearly frozen to death. That girl had gone out into the frigid cold night air with the intent of killing herself. She’d been found in time and saved. Like Rory and like Greer. Her name had been Joan. And she’d not only known Rory but had loved him. It was hard not to love Rory. He was so handsome and beautiful. Most girls noticed him, but Joan had had a deep affection for him and was furious when he’d chosen Greer. One of the last nights they were all in camp together, Greer had been late meeting Rory. She’d been delayed by extra chores in the kitchen. As she’d approached his tent, she’d seen Joan inside with him.
She’d watched as Joan had wrapped her arms around Rory’s neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Rory had responded and kissed her back. Greer’s heart sank. She’d wanted Rory and had been ready to give him what he’d been begging for.
Finally, Rory eased out of her grip and whispered something only Joan could hear. She’d smiled, kissed him good-bye, and left.
Greer, lingering in the shadows, could have slipped away into the night and written Rory off. But she’d lost so much and to lose him was unbearable. So, she’d summoned her courage and slipped into his tent. Before she thought, she rushed up to him and kissed him on the lips. He’d folded his arms around her and held her so close she could feel the erection Joan’s touch had created. But she’d ignored his attraction for another girl and she’d deepened the kiss thinking maybe she could make him forget Joan. He’d kissed her back and then took her by the hand and led her into the woods to a soft grassy patch of land.
As she sat at her desk now, nervous energy churned in her stomach. Silly to think there’d be any kind of connection today between Rory and the woman in the news report. The cops had said Rory ran with a rough crowd and could very well have angered the wrong guy. And this woman who’d frozen to death could be a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. There could have been any number of odd circumstances why she’d met such an odd ending.
Not her business.
Not her problem.
She had so much work to do.
And after she reminded herself again of the reasons why she should just drop this, she reached for her purse and car keys. She went in search of José. They had a quick discussion about the daily tasks still to be done, Mitch’s assignments, and the target date for harvest. Both agreed they’d be harvesting soon. And with José mumbling in Spanish, she left.