Once Gone (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1)

Chapter 2

 "It got worse for her every day," Sam Flores said, bringing up another horrific image on the huge multimedia display looming above the conference table. "Right up to when he finished her off."

Bill had guessed as much, but he hated to be right.

The Bureau had flown the body to the BAU in Quantico, forensics technicians had taken photos, and the lab had started all the tests. Flores, a lab technician with black-rimmed glasses, ran the grisly slide show, and the gigantic screens were a forbidding presence in the BAU conference room.

"How long was she dead before the body was found?" Bill asked.

"Not long," he replied. "Maybe early evening before."

Beside Bill sat Spelbren, who had flown into Quantico with him after they'd left Yarnell. At the head of the table sat Special Agent Brent Meredith, the team chief. Meredith cut a daunting presence with his broad frame, his black, angular features, and his no-nonsense face. Not that Bill was intimidated by him—far from it. He liked to think that they had a lot in common. They were both seasoned veterans, and had both seen it all.

Flores flashed a series of close-ups of the victim's wounds.

"The wounds on the left were inflicted early on," he said. "Those on the right are more recent, some inflicted hours or even minutes before he strangled her with the ribbon. He seems to have gotten progressively more violent during the week or so that he held her captive. Breaking her arm might have been the last thing he did while she was still alive."

"The wounds look like the work of one perpetrator to me," Meredith observed. "Judging from the mounting level of aggression, probably male. What else have you got?"

"From the light stubble on her scalp, we're guessing her head was shaved two days before she was killed," Flores continued. "The wig was stitched together with pieces of other wigs, all cheap. The contact lenses were probably mail order. And one more thing," he said, looking around at the faces, hesitant. "He covered her with Vaseline."

Bill could feel the tension in the room thicken.

"Vaseline?" he asked.

Flores nodded.

"Why?" Spelbren asked.

Flores shrugged.

"That's your job," he replied.

Bill thought about the two tourists he'd interviewed yesterday. They had been no help at all, torn between morbid curiosity and the edge of panic at what they had seen. They were eager to get back home to Arlington and there hadn't been any reason to detain them. They had been interviewed by every officer on hand. And they'd been duly cautioned to say nothing about what they'd seen.

Meredith exhaled and laid both palms on the table.

"Good work, Flores," Meredith said.

Flores looked grateful for the praise—and maybe a bit surprised. Brent Meredith wasn't given to making compliments.

"Now Agent Jeffreys," Meredith turned to him, "brief us on how this relates to your old case."

Bill took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

"A little over six months ago," he began, "on December sixteenth, actually—the body of Eileen Rogers was found on a farm near Daggett. I got called in to investigate, along with my partner, Riley Paige. The weather was extremely cold, and the body was frozen solid. It was hard to tell how long it had been left there, and the time of death was never exactly determined. Flores, show them."