removal.”
“Meaning the eyes were gouged,” Dean said. “Not plucked out.”
“Precisely,” Trumble said. “No planning, no forethought, no trophy collecting. Simply a matter of brute force and hunger. Nothing to indicate a human perpetrator.”
“But other than the attack itself,” Cordero said, “nothing to indicate an animal’s involvement.”
“Other than the attack?” Trumble asked incredulously.
“Maybe a paw print in the blood or a tuft of fur.”
A nearby patrol officer stepped forward. “A rodent was nibbling on the corpse in the dumpster when we arrived, sir.”
“A rodent, Coogan?”
“Yes, sir,” the officer said. “A rat.”
Dean looked at the medical examiner. “You’re pinning these murders on a rat?”
“Of course not,” Trumble said. “A larger animal, species undetermined.”
Sam pointed to the body bag. “May I?”
Cordero glanced down the far end of the alley, checking on the news van. The satellite mast was up, but the reporter, a sharply dressed blond woman holding a mic, had her back to the crime scene, involved in an animated discussion with her cameraman. “Make it quick.”
When Sam unzipped the body bag, all the way down to the victim’s groin, Dean squatted beside the corpse for a closer look. The medical examiner dropped awkwardly to one knee, caught his balance by placing his palm on the blacktop, then pointed with his other index finger at the flesh surrounding the eye sockets and then lower, along the perimeter of the shredded abdomen. “There—at the edges of all these wounds—those cuts were not made by a knife or any type of edged weapon. Definitely claw marks.” He tugged on a pair of latex gloves and reached into the abdominal cavity. “If you look closely at the remains of the liver, those smaller, ragged incisions are the result of teeth tearing into the organ.”
Cordero stood over them, helping to obstruct the view of the corpse as he spoke. “From what we can determine, Aidan came back here for a little after-hours vandalism with that wrist rocket. Shot out the lights over the rear doors. The darkness made it easier for whoever—or whatever—attacked him.”
“Any witnesses?” Sam asked. “Store employees?”
“None of the shops were open that time of night.”
“According to the good doctor,” Dean said, “what we have here is a considerate animal.”
“Considerate?” Trumble asked. “In what way, may I ask?”
Dean indicated the dumpster. “After attacking and feeding on Aidan, this animal takes time to clean up after itself and throws its leftovers in the trash.”
“Well, I’m sure stranger things have happened,” Trumble said, a bit flustered. “I never claimed to be a detective.” He turned to Cordero. “You’ll have EMS take the body to the morgue for a more complete examination?” Cordero nodded and Trumble said, “Then I’m done here. Good day.”
After Trumble stalked off, climbed into his SUV and slammed the door, Dean looked up at Cordero. “He always so cheerful?”
“Man’s got an ulcer, and insomnia,” Cordero said. “He really wants to chalk this up to an animal attack and be done with it. But I’m not convinced. We’ve still had no wild animal sightings and whatever attacked Holcomb and young Dufford here would have been noticed by someone.”
“Were you hoping he’d convince you this time?” Dean asked. “Since you managed to get out of your office?”
“Had to see this for myself,” Cordero said grimly. “Got a bad feeling.”
“Bad feeling,” Dean commented. “But good instincts.”
Castiel pointed to the broken exterior lights. “Aidan shot out some of these bulbs before he was killed, but somebody else blew out or extinguished the rest. Some bulbs are broken. Others have burnt-out filaments. The killer didn’t want to be seen.”
“How can you tell the unbroken lights have burnt-out filaments?” Cordero said.
“I looked at them,” Castiel said.
“You
“Meaning the eyes were gouged,” Dean said. “Not plucked out.”
“Precisely,” Trumble said. “No planning, no forethought, no trophy collecting. Simply a matter of brute force and hunger. Nothing to indicate a human perpetrator.”
“But other than the attack itself,” Cordero said, “nothing to indicate an animal’s involvement.”
“Other than the attack?” Trumble asked incredulously.
“Maybe a paw print in the blood or a tuft of fur.”
A nearby patrol officer stepped forward. “A rodent was nibbling on the corpse in the dumpster when we arrived, sir.”
“A rodent, Coogan?”
“Yes, sir,” the officer said. “A rat.”
Dean looked at the medical examiner. “You’re pinning these murders on a rat?”
“Of course not,” Trumble said. “A larger animal, species undetermined.”
Sam pointed to the body bag. “May I?”
Cordero glanced down the far end of the alley, checking on the news van. The satellite mast was up, but the reporter, a sharply dressed blond woman holding a mic, had her back to the crime scene, involved in an animated discussion with her cameraman. “Make it quick.”
When Sam unzipped the body bag, all the way down to the victim’s groin, Dean squatted beside the corpse for a closer look. The medical examiner dropped awkwardly to one knee, caught his balance by placing his palm on the blacktop, then pointed with his other index finger at the flesh surrounding the eye sockets and then lower, along the perimeter of the shredded abdomen. “There—at the edges of all these wounds—those cuts were not made by a knife or any type of edged weapon. Definitely claw marks.” He tugged on a pair of latex gloves and reached into the abdominal cavity. “If you look closely at the remains of the liver, those smaller, ragged incisions are the result of teeth tearing into the organ.”
Cordero stood over them, helping to obstruct the view of the corpse as he spoke. “From what we can determine, Aidan came back here for a little after-hours vandalism with that wrist rocket. Shot out the lights over the rear doors. The darkness made it easier for whoever—or whatever—attacked him.”
“Any witnesses?” Sam asked. “Store employees?”
“None of the shops were open that time of night.”
“According to the good doctor,” Dean said, “what we have here is a considerate animal.”
“Considerate?” Trumble asked. “In what way, may I ask?”
Dean indicated the dumpster. “After attacking and feeding on Aidan, this animal takes time to clean up after itself and throws its leftovers in the trash.”
“Well, I’m sure stranger things have happened,” Trumble said, a bit flustered. “I never claimed to be a detective.” He turned to Cordero. “You’ll have EMS take the body to the morgue for a more complete examination?” Cordero nodded and Trumble said, “Then I’m done here. Good day.”
After Trumble stalked off, climbed into his SUV and slammed the door, Dean looked up at Cordero. “He always so cheerful?”
“Man’s got an ulcer, and insomnia,” Cordero said. “He really wants to chalk this up to an animal attack and be done with it. But I’m not convinced. We’ve still had no wild animal sightings and whatever attacked Holcomb and young Dufford here would have been noticed by someone.”
“Were you hoping he’d convince you this time?” Dean asked. “Since you managed to get out of your office?”
“Had to see this for myself,” Cordero said grimly. “Got a bad feeling.”
“Bad feeling,” Dean commented. “But good instincts.”
Castiel pointed to the broken exterior lights. “Aidan shot out some of these bulbs before he was killed, but somebody else blew out or extinguished the rest. Some bulbs are broken. Others have burnt-out filaments. The killer didn’t want to be seen.”
“How can you tell the unbroken lights have burnt-out filaments?” Cordero said.
“I looked at them,” Castiel said.
“You
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