His hand hovered over the glossy photo before he set it down. The palm of his hand covered Skye’s face. Nothing. He waited a few more minutes, but all he sensed was lingering residue from Cisco, who’d been anxious to get Luca home last night for a round or two of hard fucking. Ten shivered. The last thing he needed was to hitch a ride on Cisco’s fantasy train.
“What’s wrong?” Ronan asked. He set a hand on Tennyson’s.
“Nothing.” Ten managed a smile. “I was hoping to get something from Skye, but all that was left on the picture was from a horny Cisco.”
“Really?” Ronan looked intrigued for a moment before a darker look came over his face. “Do you think you’ll sense Skye in the other photos?”
“I’m not sure.” Ten knew the next photos were from the crime scene. He didn’t want to look at them, but knew he had no choice. Taking the picture of the smiling, carefree Skye, he flipped it over and focused on the next photo. It was an image of the crime scene. It was obviously nighttime. Hard-packed and heavily footprinted snow surrounded the body of the teenager. Skye was lying on her stomach, with both hands reaching forward for help that never came. The snow around her was tinged with red from her spilled blood.
Ten had seen pictures like this before. Hell, he’d even been to murder scenes where the body was fresh and the blood still wet, but this picture hit him hard. He set his hands down over Skye as much to read it as to hide her reaching hands from his vision. Nothing. Another dead-end.
Not wanting to linger, Ten did the same thing with the remaining pictures in the stack. Each one was more detailed and gruesome, including shots of Skye’s bloodstained hands and jacket. He knew the autopsy photos would be worse. They’d be clinical, but the evidence of violence would still be there.
“Are you okay?” Ronan asked gently.
“There’s so much violence. So much rage. And before you ask, no, I’m not getting anything from the pics, but I know violence when I see it. Whoever did this wasn’t just angry, they went nuclear.”
“That’s what the autopsy report says, only in more clinical terms. They recorded forty-nine stab wounds, but believe the total was higher since some of the wounds were larger than others.” Ronan handed the report to Jude.
“I don’t understand.” Ten looked from Fitzgibbon to Ronan.
“Watch this.” Ronan flipped to a blank page in his notebook. He raised his pen high and stabbed the notebook. A dot was left on the page. “Count,” Ronan ordered before he started stabbing the page in a frenzy.
“Twenty,” Ten said when Ronan stopped. “Twenty-one if you include the original stab.”
“Count the marks.” Ronan pushed the notebook toward Ten.
The page was a mess. Some marks were dots, while others showed the tip of the pen skidding on the page. Ten took a deep breath and did as Ronan asked. “I only count eighteen.”
Ronan circled a couple of the larger marks. “You can tell these marks look like they were made bigger by a second stab, right? This is what the coroner’s report means.”
Ten understood the point Ronan was trying to make. He could see how the stab wounds could get a little muddy if someone was in a rage. “I can’t imagine.” Ten shook his head.
“If you need to walk away…” Ronan began.
“I’m fine. We need to get through the preliminary evidence here so we can go speak to the family. Has Cisco called to let them know we were taking this case?” Ten had a feeling the answer was no.
“I texted to let him know we were reading the file this morning, but I haven’t heard back from him. Maybe he and Luca are still going at it.” Ronan laughed while Jude grimaced.
“The media was all over the place with this case. Some reports think Skye’s killer was a member of her family. Others think this is the work of a serial killer. Since there were no immediate suspects, the media ran with their own theories.” Jude did not seem impressed.
“Keep in mind this murder took place prior to DNA profiling. The best they could do at the time was look for fingerprints, boot prints, and to type any blood at the scene that didn’t belong to Skye.” Fitzgibbon held up a stapled evidence report.
“Has the DNA been tested as technology advanced?” Ten asked. He wondered what the protocol was for that. Did the city of Salem pay for it? The Commonwealth of Massachusetts? The family?
“According to what I’m reading, some of it has. What has been tested all came back to Skye.” Fitzgibbon’s brow furrowed. “They have a couple of samples that were too small, and they didn’t want to risk destroying the sample and not getting viable results.”
“Get with Cisco and see if we can get those samples tested now,” Fitzgibbon ordered, sounding like he did when Ten and Ronan worked for him.
Ronan smirked at his former boss, but picked up the phone. A knock at the door stopped him. “Who the hell could that be? We’re all here.”
“Not all of us.” Cisco walked into the room carrying two large evidence boxes. “I got these out of storage for you. I know Tennyson is sometimes able to connect with items…” The chief shot Tennyson a hopeful look.
“We need to talk about getting some of the DNA tested, the smaller samples that haven’t been tested yet, and we need to make an appointment to speak to the parents.” Ronan looked back down at his notes.
“I spoke to Butch and Muriel this morning. They’re expecting you at one. As for the DNA, I can submit it, but our budget is rather tight this year.” Cisco did not look hopeful.
“Truman is our social media guru. Get him to set up a GoFundMe page to pay for the DNA testing. Then we’ll call Channel 5 and get John Jameson down here to do a special interest piece. It will get people to contribute to the fund, and give us leads to follow. Sometimes killers do things like that out of guilt. Renewed interest in the case could also prod people who know something about this case to come forward.”
“Not to mention the fact that it will get names out there for future business…” Jude trailed off. His eyes were glued to Tennyson.
“Guys, I’m not stopping Ronan from being the third musketeer in your band of merry men. If he wants to go all in on this detective agency, I’ve got no problem with that.”
“Why do I feel a but coming on?” Jude asked.
“There’s no ‘but,’ Jude.” Ten sighed. The next word out of his mouth was going to be “but.” He needed to change his thought process. Ten moved his eyes back to Ronan. “I just don’t want you to end up working the same kind of hours we pulled at the BPD. There were a lot of nights we only got a few hours of sleep before getting back at it. You’re a family man now.”
“Look, Ten. All of us are fathers. We’re all happily married. None of us want to be working all hours of the night or sleeping in the office like in the old days, but sometimes it’s what the job calls for. We all know that too.” Fitzgibbon’s words were gentle as he eyed Tennyson.
“I understand.” Ten absolutely understood. He just didn’t want to be home with Everly while Ronan chased leads. Their daughter would miss him. So would Ten. On the other hand, there was a family who’d been waiting thirty-five years for justice. He couldn’t stand in the way of that.