a child.”
Madeline jotted a note in her pocket pad. “What about the cause of death?”
Behind her a saw whirred to life, followed by the crunching of bone. If anything, Tick paled further. Ford looked at him. “Are you okay?”
“Shit, no.” Hand still over his face, he bolted. The door swished closed behind him. Madeline smothered a laugh.
Ford pinned the other tech with a frown. “You know he can’t handle that, Young. You did that on purpose.”
Young continued to cut. “Hey, I’m just clearing the backlog.”
Madeline suppressed her humor and caught Ford’s gaze. “Cause of death?”
She didn’t hold out much hope for an answer. They hadn’t found any bullets in the dirt under the house, so Madeline was pretty sure she hadn’t been a shooting victim. If the girl had been strangled or beaten, the evidence of that would have been lost as the flesh decayed.
The door swung open, Tick’s long strides quiet on the tile floor. He stopped beside her, a strong odor of peppermint clinging to him. A smile curved her mouth. So he was trying to cut the autopsy smell by popping mints, but what was he going to do about the sights and sounds?
Ford flicked a glance at him. “Better now?”
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You have your choice of two possible causes of death.” Ford touched the skull with a gloved hand. “The fracture line here indicates massive blunt-force trauma. Enough to cause cerebral hemorrhage, which would have led to death without medical intervention.”
“You said we have a choice?” Madeline scribbled another note.
Ford pointed to the ribs laid out in meticulous order. “See these marks?”
Faint lines marred the yellowed bones, jagged lighter areas. Tick’s expression tightened. “She was stabbed.”
“Multiple times. So…she could have bled out from that.”
Madeline rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tightness there. “Anything that might give us an idea how long she’s been down there?”
“The bones are clean, so we’re talking at least five years. But you didn’t find any remnants of female clothing with her, which means she was probably buried nude. No jewelry or other objects which might help us place her in a specific time.”
Tick heaved a sigh. “Great.”
“Listen,” Ford said, “if I come up with something else, I’ll give you a call. But don’t count on it. If you come up with dental records from a missing-person file, send them over, and I’ll do a comparison.”
“Thanks, Ford.”
Outside, Tick dragged in audible gulps of air. Madeline took the high road and refrained from ragging his ass about the fact he’d basically gotten grossed out and tossed his cookies. She’d save that button to push later when he was being an ass.
She unlocked the patrol car. “This case is going to be a bitch.”
Tick grimaced at her over the roof. “What do you care? You’re not going to be here.”
Anger trembled to life in her, and she opened her mouth to tell him where he could go.
Instead, she snapped it shut. Of course, he was right. Cold cases could take weeks, months to solve. She wouldn’t be here that long.
Why that thought sent a pang through her was beyond comprehension.
Chandler County was the last place she wanted to be, wasn’t it?
Chapter Seven
Ash leaned against the hood of his truck and glanced at his watch again. He was early, but Tick needed to get a move on. It was icy cold, a sharp wind blowing beneath low, angry clouds, and the lunch rush was about to be in full swing. A familiar rumble caught his ear, and he levered away from the truck. Tick was on time for once. Maybe that explained the sudden cold weather—hell had finally frozen over.
Tick maneuvered his white 4x4 into a slot near the end of the pecan grove that served as the Hickory House’s parking lot. Ash met him at the edge of the gravel driveway. Dark hair ruffled by the wind, Tick ducked his head and flipped the collar up on his
Madeline jotted a note in her pocket pad. “What about the cause of death?”
Behind her a saw whirred to life, followed by the crunching of bone. If anything, Tick paled further. Ford looked at him. “Are you okay?”
“Shit, no.” Hand still over his face, he bolted. The door swished closed behind him. Madeline smothered a laugh.
Ford pinned the other tech with a frown. “You know he can’t handle that, Young. You did that on purpose.”
Young continued to cut. “Hey, I’m just clearing the backlog.”
Madeline suppressed her humor and caught Ford’s gaze. “Cause of death?”
She didn’t hold out much hope for an answer. They hadn’t found any bullets in the dirt under the house, so Madeline was pretty sure she hadn’t been a shooting victim. If the girl had been strangled or beaten, the evidence of that would have been lost as the flesh decayed.
The door swung open, Tick’s long strides quiet on the tile floor. He stopped beside her, a strong odor of peppermint clinging to him. A smile curved her mouth. So he was trying to cut the autopsy smell by popping mints, but what was he going to do about the sights and sounds?
Ford flicked a glance at him. “Better now?”
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You have your choice of two possible causes of death.” Ford touched the skull with a gloved hand. “The fracture line here indicates massive blunt-force trauma. Enough to cause cerebral hemorrhage, which would have led to death without medical intervention.”
“You said we have a choice?” Madeline scribbled another note.
Ford pointed to the ribs laid out in meticulous order. “See these marks?”
Faint lines marred the yellowed bones, jagged lighter areas. Tick’s expression tightened. “She was stabbed.”
“Multiple times. So…she could have bled out from that.”
Madeline rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tightness there. “Anything that might give us an idea how long she’s been down there?”
“The bones are clean, so we’re talking at least five years. But you didn’t find any remnants of female clothing with her, which means she was probably buried nude. No jewelry or other objects which might help us place her in a specific time.”
Tick heaved a sigh. “Great.”
“Listen,” Ford said, “if I come up with something else, I’ll give you a call. But don’t count on it. If you come up with dental records from a missing-person file, send them over, and I’ll do a comparison.”
“Thanks, Ford.”
Outside, Tick dragged in audible gulps of air. Madeline took the high road and refrained from ragging his ass about the fact he’d basically gotten grossed out and tossed his cookies. She’d save that button to push later when he was being an ass.
She unlocked the patrol car. “This case is going to be a bitch.”
Tick grimaced at her over the roof. “What do you care? You’re not going to be here.”
Anger trembled to life in her, and she opened her mouth to tell him where he could go.
Instead, she snapped it shut. Of course, he was right. Cold cases could take weeks, months to solve. She wouldn’t be here that long.
Why that thought sent a pang through her was beyond comprehension.
Chandler County was the last place she wanted to be, wasn’t it?
Chapter Seven
Ash leaned against the hood of his truck and glanced at his watch again. He was early, but Tick needed to get a move on. It was icy cold, a sharp wind blowing beneath low, angry clouds, and the lunch rush was about to be in full swing. A familiar rumble caught his ear, and he levered away from the truck. Tick was on time for once. Maybe that explained the sudden cold weather—hell had finally frozen over.
Tick maneuvered his white 4x4 into a slot near the end of the pecan grove that served as the Hickory House’s parking lot. Ash met him at the edge of the gravel driveway. Dark hair ruffled by the wind, Tick ducked his head and flipped the collar up on his
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