The Keepsake: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

This was now beyond her sphere of knowledge, beyond anything she’d ever dealt with in the autopsy room, and she did not want to proceed without technical guidance.
    “Maura?”
    She turned to Sansone. “Can we continue this discussion another time? I need to make some phone calls.”
    “May I make a suggestion before I leave? I know a gentleman you might want to contact. A Dr. Pieter Vandenbrink. I can put you in touch with him.”
    “Why are you telling me about him?”
    “You’ll find his name well represented on the Internet. Look up his curriculum vitae, and you’ll understand why.”

FIFTEEN
     
    The TV news vans were back, and this time, there were more of them. Once a killer earns a nickname, he becomes public property, and every news station wanted a piece of the Archaeology Killer investigation.
    Jane felt the all-seeing eyes of the cameras following her as she and Frost walked from the parking lot to the ME’s building. When she’d first made detective, she’d gotten a thrill seeing herself for the first time on the evening news. That thrill had long since faded, and these days she viewed reporters with irritation. Instead of mugging for the cameras, she walked with her head down and her shoulders rolled forward; on the six o’clock news tonight, she’d probably look like a hunchbacked troll in a blue blazer.
    It was a relief to step inside the building and escape the invasive zoom lenses, but the worst ordeal lay ahead. As she and Frost made their way to the autopsy lab, she felt her muscles tensing, her stomach churning in anticipation of what they’d have to confront on the table today.
    In the anteroom, Frost was unusually silent as they both donned gowns and shoe covers. Braving a glimpse through the window, she was relieved to see that the body was still covered by a drape, a brief reprieve before the horror. With a grim sense of duty, she pushed into the autopsy room.
    Maura had just clipped X-rays onto the morgue viewing box, and the dental films of Jane Doe Number Three glowed against the backlight. She looked at the two detectives. “So what do you think of these?” she quizzed them.
    “Those look like pretty good teeth,” said Jane.
    Maura nodded. “There are two amalgam fillings here, plus one gold crown on the lower left molar. I see no caries, and there’s no alveolar bone loss to indicate any periodontal disease. Finally, there’s this detail.” Maura tapped a finger on the X-ray. “She’s missing both pre-molars.”
    “You think they were pulled?”
    “But there are no gaps between the teeth. And the roots of these incisors have been shortened and blunted.”
    “And that means?”
    “She’s had orthodontic work. She’s worn braces.”
    “So we’re talking a well-to-do victim.”
    “Certainly middle class, at the very least.”
    “Hey, I never got braces.” Jane bared her teeth, revealing an irregular bottom row. “These, Doc, are middle-class teeth.” She pointed to the X-ray. “My dad couldn’t afford to pay for something like that.”
    “Madam X had good teeth, too,” said Frost.
    Maura nodded. “Both women had what I’d guess were privileged childhoods. Privileged enough to pay for good dental care and orthodontics.” She pulled down the dental film and reached for a new set, which twanged as she shoved them under the clips. The bones of the lower extremities now glowed on the light box.
    “And here’s what else the two victims had in common.”
    Jane and Frost simultaneously sucked in startled breaths. They needed no radiologist to interpret the damage they saw on those X-rays.
    “It was done to both of her tibias,” said Maura. “With a blunt instrument of some kind. A hammer maybe, or a tire iron. We’re not talking about mere glancing blows on her shins. These were brutal and purposeful, meant to shatter bone. Both tibias have transverse diaphyseal fractures, with scattered fragments embedded in the soft tissue. The pain would have been excruciating. She certainly couldn’t have walked. I can’t imagine how she must have suffered over the days that followed. Infection probably set in, spreading from open wounds into soft tissues. Bacteria would have infiltrated bone, and eventually blood.”
    Jane looked at her. “Did you say
days
?”
    “These fractures wouldn’t have been fatal. Not immediately.”
    “Maybe she was killed first. These could be postmortem mutilations.”
Please make them postmortem, and not what I’m