The Silent Girl

found positive for gunshot residue. Fingerprints from this hand were found on the grip of the Heckler & Koch, leaving no doubt that the victim had fired the bullets, scattering five casings on the rooftop. Maura swung the magnifier over the hand and examined the severed wrist.
    “The cut sliced right between the distal radius and the lunate bone,” she said. “But I can see a good chunk of the triquetral here.”
    “And that would mean?” asked Jane.
    “Whatever made this cut divided a carpal bone. And these bones are very dense.”
    “So it had to be a sharp blade.”
    “Sharp enough to amputate with a single slice.” Maura looked up. “I don’t see any secondary cut marks.”
    “Just tell me this hand matches that body.”
    Maura turned to the table and unzipped the body bag. The plastic parted, releasing the stomach-turning smell of refrigerated meat and stale blood. The cadaver inside was still fully clothed, the head tipped backward, exposing the gaping wound in her neck. As Yoshima took photos, Maura’s gaze was drawn to the woman’s auburn hair, caked in blood. Beautiful hair, she thought, and a beautiful woman. A woman who was armed and shooting at someone on that rooftop.
    “Dr. Isles, we’ve got some hair and fiber evidence staring at us,” said Yoshima. He was bending over the corpse’s black sweatshirt, peering at a single pale strand that clung to the sleeve.
    With a pair of tweezers, Maura plucked up the hair and examined it under the light. It was about two inches long, silvery gray and slightly curved. She glanced at the cadaver. “This obviously is not her hair.”
    “Look, there’s another one,” said Jane, pointing to a second strand clinging to the victim’s black leggings.
    “Maybe animal hairs,” said Yoshima. “Could be a golden retriever.”
    “Or maybe she got whacked by a gray-haired grandpa.”
    Maura slipped the strands into separate evidence envelopes and set them aside. “Okay, let’s undress her.”
    First they removed the only item of jewelry she was wearing, a black Swiss Hanowa watch, from her left wrist. Next came the shoes, black Reeboks, followed by the hoodie sweatshirt and a long-sleeved T-shirt, leggings, cotton panties, and an athletic bra. What emerged was a well-toned body, slim but muscular. Maura had once heard a pathology professor assert that in his many years of performingautopsies, he’d never come across an attractive corpse. This woman proved there could be exceptions to that rule. Despite the gaping wound and dependent mottling of her back and buttocks, despite the glassy eyes, she was still a stunningly beautiful woman.
    With the corpse now fully stripped of clothing, Maura and the two detectives stepped out of the room so that Yoshima could take X-rays. In the anteroom, they watched through the viewing window as he donned a lead apron and positioned the film cartridges.
    “A woman like that,” said Maura, “is going to be missed by someone.”
    “You saying that because she’s good-looking?” Jane said.
    “I’m saying it because she looks incredibly fit, she has perfect dentition, and those are Donna Karan leggings she was wearing.”
    “Question, please, from an ignorant man,” said Tam. “Does that mean they’re expensive?”
    Jane said, “I’ll bet Dr. Isles here can quote you the exact retail price.”
    “The point is,” said Maura, “she’s not some penniless stray off the street. She was carrying a lot of cash, and she was armed with a Heckler and Koch, which I understand is not your usual street gun.”
    “She also had no ID,” said Tam.
    “It could have been stolen.”
    “But the thief leaves behind three hundred bucks?” Tam shook his head. “That would be weird.”
    Through the viewing window, Maura saw Yoshima give a wave. “He’s done,” she said, and pushed through the door back into the lab.
    Maura examined the incised neck first. Like the cut that had amputated the hand, this wound appeared to be a single slice, delivered without hesitation. Inserting a ruler into the wound, Maura said: “It’s almost eight centimeters deep. Transects the trachea and penetrates all the way to the cervical spine.” She reoriented the ruler. “Wider than it is deep, around twelve centimeters side to side. Not a stab but a slash.” She paused, studying the exposed incision. “Odd how smooth it is. There’s no bread-knifing, no secondary cuts. No bruisingor crushing. It was done so quickly, the victim never