“People who were trying to mend their ways?” Tatum suggested.
“Yes, exactly.”
“Ex-convicts?” Tatum asked.
A long silence.
“Was Catherine a counselor to former convicts?” O’Donnell asked, exchanging a quick look with Tatum.
“Some. You need to understand. These people would do anything for Catherine. They would never . . . not this.”
“I understand,” O’Donnell said.
She moved away from the topic, as if it no longer interested her, but the rest of her questions were just fluff, stuff that would lower the pastor’s guard. When, by the end of the interview, she asked for a few contacts, he gave her the details easily. Including the second religious counselor.
Finally, O’Donnell had gotten all she needed, and the pastor left, his body stooped, drained by the worst day in his life.
“Well, you said the person who killed Catherine knew her,” O’Donnell said.
“That’s what I think,” Zoe said.
“If he’s a former convict from her church, he’s not your guy, right?”
“Rod Glover has never been incarcerated.”
“Fine.” Finality entered her tone. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“The autopsy,” Tatum said. “When will it be?”
“Probably first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Can we be present? Once we have the autopsy report, we’ll be out of your hair.”
There was that frown and head tilt again, but she finally nodded. “Fine. Give me your number. I’ll update you once I know the time.”
CHAPTER 5
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Zoe and Tatum waited outside the morgue. The medical examiner, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Terrel, wasn’t thrilled to perform the autopsy with three people watching her. “It’s crowded enough here,” she’d said, gesturing at the rows of body coolers behind her. Zoe had a feeling it wasn’t the first time she’d used that joke. They’d used the time to grab some breakfast in a nearby café, reading the sparsely detailed news articles about the murder. They returned two hours later only to find out the autopsy wasn’t over yet.
Zoe had already lost interest in the case. The homicide of Catherine Lamb in Glover’s previous neighborhood began to feel like a coincidence and nothing more. There was too much deviance from Glover’s usual MO and signature.
Glover attacked women outdoors, usually near a body of water, in relatively remote locations, where witnesses weren’t likely. The last time Glover had attacked someone indoors was a month before, when he’d assaulted Andrea, Zoe’s sister. The consequences for him had been nearly fatal, and Zoe found it unlikely that he would do it again.
The covering of the victim’s body was also not typical of him. In all of his assaults, Glover showed a complete lack of interest in the victim’s body once he was done. She saw no reason for this case to be any different.
No. Zoe’s estimate was that Catherine Lamb had been attacked by someone she knew. The gloves the murderer used indicated the death probably wasn’t accidental—he had planned to rape and kill her. But after the murder he’d had a moment of regret. He’d been confused, stepping in the blood, leaving his footprints behind. He’d covered the body to alleviate the guilt. Zoe wasn’t sure regarding the necklace—perhaps O’Donnell was right, and it had been there from the start, ignored by the killer.
Then why take the woman’s underwear? That niggled at her. Taking a trophy didn’t feel like an act of guilt.
It didn’t matter. Maybe he’d shoved the underwear into his pocket after tearing them. Every murder had its little anomalies.
She checked her watch impatiently. They were wasting precious time. This investigation couldn’t be indefinite. Mancuso, the unit chief, had agreed to give Zoe and Tatum ten days in Chicago, tracing Rod Glover’s steps, and their time was almost up. They had two more days, and there were still a few leads Zoe wanted to follow up on before they gave up. Every minute they waited here to hear the results of an unrelated autopsy was a minute they could—
The morgue door opened. Detective O’Donnell stood in the doorway, beckoning them in. She seemed pale, though perhaps that could be attributed to the white fluorescent light.
Zoe entered the room, her breathing already shallow, anticipating the typical stench of death intermingled with chemicals. Catherine Lamb’s body lay on the table, a large Y-shaped scar over her torso. It was the first time Zoe had actually seen Catherine’s body with her own eyes. Now that she could examine the lacerations on the neck up close, a chill ran up her spine. Glover’s victims all had marks just like these.
“I’ve concluded the autopsy, and I have a few findings that I already shared with Detective O’Donnell,” Dr. Terrel said. “The preliminary report will be ready tomorrow, but O’Donnell wanted me to tell you what I found.”
“Thank you—we appreciate it,” Tatum said.
Terrel nodded curtly. “The body was in full rigor mortis when I first checked it. Typically that means the victim died between twelve and twenty-four hours before, but it could be less than that in certain cases, especially if the victim’s muscle activity was severe before death.”
“For instance, if the victim struggled,” Tatum said.
“Exactly. However, I did find something interesting when examining the lividity marks.”
Lividity was the dark bruises that appeared on the body’s skin after death. This was caused by the stagnant blood settling in the body, following the only force that kept working on it even after the victim’s death—gravity.
“There are pronounced lividity marks on the victim’s left side.” Terrel pointed at dark bruises on Catherine’s left arm and thigh. “But if you look carefully at the victim’s right side, you’ll see the faint lividity marks there as well.”
“The body was moved after death,” Zoe said. “Someone turned it to the other side.”
“It was found lying on its right side,” O’Donnell said. “I’m assuming that means it was moved a significant amount of time after death, when lividity was almost complete.”
“So you think it was the father who moved it,” Tatum said.
Zoe nodded. It made sense. Albert Lamb had found Catherine. According to his own statement, he’d shaken her, trying to wake her up, not realizing he’d turned her around in the process. If that was really what had happened, it gave them a likely timeline of death, since they knew when Albert Lamb had found the body.
It was interesting. The most basic instruction at a crime scene was to disturb nothing until the police processed it. But in this case, because of the manner in which Albert had moved his daughter’s body, they had a more accurate timeline than before.
“It’s impossible for me to know if it was first on the left side or on the right side,” Terrel said. “And it’s possible she was on the right side, turned to the left after a few hours, then turned back to the right when lividity was complete.”
“Can you estimate how long she was lying on her left side?” Tatum asked.
“I estimate eight to ten hours.”