Forty-Nine
Cleveland, Ohio
The flames rose more than a hundred feet, licking the night sky with a column of fire that could be seen for miles.
Freeway traffic halted in torrents of brake lights.
Scores of 911 calls inundated the Cuyahoga Emergency Communications System.
Drivers who’d witnessed the crash had stopped safely then risked their lives by confronting potential explosions and blistering heat to rescue injured people from the wrecked vehicles scattered across the lanes.
Within minutes, sirens sounded the arrival of emergency crews; fire, police, paramedics, and other groups dispatched to the scene, including the Cuyahoga County Medical Examiner.
Taking brave action despite the heightened volatility and heat of the blaze, firefighters and police removed all surviving crash victims from the scene, including the truck driver. Bleeding, he had first dragged himself from his overturned cab, which, after breaking away, had slid some distance from the fire. He was dazed but walking as they aided him through the strewn metal and wrecked cars, to the back of an ambulance.
“She was standing there! Nothing I could do!” said Leroy Vine, the forty-two-year-old truck driver from Corbin, Kentucky. His face stitched with blood, soot, and sweat as he gave his statement to Ohio State Highway Patrol trooper Brandon Caster. “There was no way I could miss her! No way! Why was she there?” Vine’s cheeks glistened with tears as he looked to the fire.
Responders worked fast, cordoning a large area, keeping people away, detouring traffic, getting alerts broadcast for drivers to avoid that section of the interstate, and evacuating residents within a blast radius in case of additional explosions.
Firefighters attacked the inferno from a distance with unmanned equipment using fire-suppression foam then cooling operations, deciding the best strategy was to let it burn itself out and consume all the fuel—even though it would rage for hours.
Drones were employed throughout the night to assess the status and scope of the incident. Mindful of statements given by the injured motorists, investigators determined that a total of ten vehicles and sixteen people were involved. Miraculously, fifteen survived with injuries ranging from fractures to abrasions to lacerations.
A testament to airbags and seat belts, one official told reporters.
All the people in the crash were accounted for.
Except one.
The terrified woman witnessed running into freeway traffic.
* * *
A dog barked behind the cordoned zone.
Shadow, the canine half of a state police K-9 unit, stared at the heaps of blackened, twisted metal, eager to get to work while his handler, Annie Gaynor, held his leash and stroked his coat.
“Hold on, buddy,” Gaynor said softly as firefighters continued their work.
It was dawn when the fire was finally doused, cooled and the destruction zone deemed safe for Gaynor and Shadow to probe it. They’d been called to the scene to find the woman, believed to have been entombed and incinerated in the wreckage.
Shadow, a Labrador retriever, had been trained as a cadaver dog. He had the ability to find human remains. Even after an intense fire, he could detect bone, blood, and tissue. Gaynor knew that Shadow had confidence, good nerves, and the soul of a hunter.
A weary-faced fire captain waved to Gaynor, giving her the all clear. She lowered herself, then unclipped Shadow’s leash.
“Show time,” she said into his ear.
Shadow trotted to the devastation, panting as he poked around the charred vehicles then picked his way through burned fragments and scorched chunks of debris, dripping with foam and water, and coated in ash. The air was thick with a riot of smells, chemical, gas, oil, engine fluids and components, the competing odors of burnt rubber, plastic, and broiled asphalt.
Debris crackled under Gaynor’s boots as she followed Shadow.
He darted here and there, sticking his snout into this area then that, his tail wagging as he worked. He’d stop, think, then dismiss a scent before moving on. Gaynor knew he was contending with so many smells, challenging him to pinpoint anything human.
Shadow inserted his nose into a blackened tangle of wreckage, withdrew it, reinserted it, then released a deep bark.
Bingo, Gaynor thought as she went to him.
“Got something, buddy?”
Tugging on latex gloves, Gaynor bent down.
She lifted a hunk of metal to reveal a piece of human skull no bigger than an orange peel.
A few minutes later, Gaynor was joined by Jasmine Sharp, from the medical examiner’s death scene investigation unit.
Together, they soon discovered other bone fragments but so damaged they were nearly unrecognizable. A partial outline of a human form emerged in the debris and ash. Sharp took control of the scene, taking photos, video, measurements, making notes, swabs.
It took time before Sharp could make a preliminary examination to determine the remains, what little there were, had been pulverized, cremated and baked into the pavement and debris.
* * *
The remains were removed from the scene and transferred to the Cuyahoga County Medical Examiner’s Office at University Circle.
A short walk from the Cleveland Museum of Art, the stone and glass building housed several services. Among them: the crime lab, the morgue, and autopsy suites, which were located on the top floor.
In one of the suites, the remains from the freeway tragedy had been placed on a table where forensic pathologist Dr. Lynn Narlow prepared to examine them, to determine the cause of death and identify the deceased.
Police investigators needed as much information as possible to determine who the person was and the circumstances that led to their death.
Gowned and gloved, Narlow looked through her face shield, surveying what she had on the table. The medical examiner’s office examined nearly two thousand bodies each year. Narlow knew the team was good.
But with so little to work with, this one’s going to be a challenge.
She glanced at her primary tools nearby. They were basic—a scalpel, scissors, forceps, a ruler, a probe, and a large knife.
Taking a deep breath, she set out to work.
All of the deceased’s skin was gone, so fingerprints, scars, and tattoos were eliminated as a means to help in identification. The impact forces of the crash had crushed the small pieces of jaw that had been recovered. The few surviving tooth fragments were extremely damaged. Dental identification would not be possible. No surgical implants, or jewelry, clothing, or pieces of identifying information had survived.
Narlow continued working.
From the fragment of rib cage she determined from the lumbar curve that it was female. Her observation was reinforced after she examined pieces of the pelvic region and the triangular bone found in the upper section of the pelvic cavity—the sacrum.