Alexander gestured to the woman ahead of us. “That’s Dr. Ross.”
Continuing forward, I looked in that direction.
Dr. Ross was a short woman. Biracial, but I couldn’t say what ethnic groups she represented. She was small at the top, but heavy at the bottom. Lots of hips. She had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and pink glasses. Sipping some sort of chocolate milkshake, Dr. Ross stood next to a table where Melody Luther’s body lay on top.
My eyes watered.
Calm down. It’s fine.
“Sorry. I skipped breakfast due to the Angel Maker’s surprise. I had to get in a quick protein shake.” Dr. Ross slurped through the straw, making a rather loud noise. Then, she burped.
I looked away.
Do not throw up! Do not throw up!
“Protein.” Alexander walked over to the other side of the table. “I thought it was a chocolate shake. Figured you were finally treating yourself.”
“No way. The hubby has us going on a surprise vacation this summer for our anniversary. I’m trying to get into a bikini.”
“Oh.” Alexander smiled. “You’ll fit.”
“I’ll fit, but it won’t look as nice as the girls in the magazines.”
“Men don’t care about the models in the magazines. They like someone who is warm, soft, sweet-smelling, and a good listener.”
“And one that looks good in a bikini.” Dr. Ross took another sip of her protein shake and set it down on the table. “Hey, we’ve got a newbie.”
I swallowed down more bile, unable to comprehend how Dr. Ross could eat or drink anything around all these dead bodies.
Dr. Ross turned to Alexander. “Is this a new agent, or are you finally dating?”
He laughed. “Don’t you think a morgue would be a pretty shitty date?”
“Not if she’s adventurous.” Dr. Ross eyed me.
I smiled at her. “I’m Special Agent Haven Barron.”
“Dr. Ross.” She looked me up and down. “I can already tell you’re going to give Agent King hell. Good for you.”
I was going to respond, but she turned to Melody and reminded me sadly of why we were here. I focused on my breathes—slowly inhaling and then exhaling.
Melody lay nude on the table. The little girl’s small frame was stiff, and her brown skin had grayed. Her chest was open. Dr. Ross probably had taken out her organs to test them. Her hair was braided into two long bows. According to the files of the other girls, the Angel Maker would have done that. He liked to have the girls dressed and looking nice before they died.
Oh my God. I don’t know, if I’ll. . .ever forget this.
Alexander walked around the table and studied Melody from every angle. Those blue eyes narrowed and intense. No fear or horror lay within him. At this point in his career, Melody’s body must’ve been the sixtieth corpse he’d evaluated.
He leaned forward. “Time of death?”
“6:00am.” Dr. Ross put on blue gloves. “Just like the other girls.”
“Right at the break of dawn.” Alexander grabbed white plastic gloves from the box in the back and handed me some.
Oh. Um. . .I’m going to be touching. . .her. . .too?
The chemical stench around Melody burned my nostrils. I focused on breathing out of my mouth as I put the gloves on.
Alexander continued. “He smothers them with the pillow, right when the sun hovers over the Earth. That’s important to him.”
Dr. Ross jumped in, “Her stomach was full of bacon, eggs, a mixture that suggests pancake and syrup. Orange juice. He gave the victim a big meal before smothering her.”
Alexander murmured, “Just like the others.”
“And more similarities, the pillow matches the fibers found in her throat and nose. While he was smothering her, she would’ve struggled for breath under the pillow, ingesting material from it.”
I gathered my voice and spoke, “Any bruises or marks?”
“No.” Dr. Ross shook her head. “No sign of sexual or physical abuse besides the smothering. While he keeps them, he doesn’t restrain the girls. If he did, then there would be small bruises around their wrists or ankles. Some tell-tale sign that they’d been held by rope, chains, or something.”
Alexander frowned and looked up at Dr. Ross. “Then, what is new?”
Dr. Ross’s blue-gloved fingers pointed right above Melody’s mouth. “He left a mini cross inside her mouth. He placed it on top of her tongue.”
Alexander and I exchanged glances.
“And that’s not it.” Dr. Ross walked to the counter and picked up a bag. “This is one of those pendants that have mini messages inside. Have you ever heard of them? People use a magnifying glass to write an itsy-bitsy message on it.”
Alexander picked up the bag and assessed it.
“I had my assistant blow up the message.” She picked up a card and handed it to me. “It’s the Lord’s Prayer.”
I read it, “Our Father who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. . .”
“It’s all there within that tiny cross.”
I tried to ignore the scent of death that shoved up my nostrils. “Do you think he wrote this or bought it from somewhere?”
“We tested the ink and metal. It’s all old. The cross was around longer than my kids. At least twenty years.”
Alexander turned the bag around. “I wonder if the cross was a family heirloom.”
“Or a family business,” I added.
He nodded. “Either way, this cross could help us find him. Thank you, Dr. Ross.”
I turned back to Melody and stared at her ponytails. “Did you do any tests on her hair? In Melody’s school pictures, her hair was curly. Now it looks pressed.”
Dr. Ross turned back to the body and stared at it as if for the first time. “Fascinating. I didn’t think about that.”
Alexander gave us an odd look. “About what?”
I answered, “If I remember correctly, Melody had natural hair. Right now, it looks pressed.”
“I see what you’re saying.” Dr. Ross leaned down and sniffed. “Hot combed even. I can check.”
Dr. Ross knows about a hot comb. She must have a little sister in her.
Alexander set the bag on the counter and studied Melody’s hair. “So, you’re saying that the Unsub possibly changed her hair somehow?”
“Yes. The texture. Back in the day, mothers would get a metal comb and put it on a stove to let it get super-hot.” I grinned at Alexander’s shocked expression. “And strand by strand, they would comb the hot metal through to straighten the hair.”
Dr. Ross shook her head. “Don’t even remind me. I still have the scars on my scalp. And my edges have never been the same. I’m so glad people don’t do that anymore.”
Alexander pointed to Melody’s braids. “But our Unsub does. He thinks a hot comb is what a girl needs before she gets dressed and ready to go.”
“Yes.” I let out a long breath. “This could mean that he’s older than what Tina thought. She said thirties. I would say at least late thirties to early forties. He would’ve seen it a lot more.”
Alexander crossed his arms. “And. . .he may be she after all.”