A/N: If you are enjoying this story please do not forget to vote and comment at the end of each section. Happy reading.
5
ANOTHER BODY
Ron let out a frustrated sigh, it has been over a month since his partner retired and was starting to feel like a replacement was not coming. While Ron much preferred his own company, he started to understand the utility of a partner as he stares at the stacks of case files on his desk being proof. They always disappeared much faster before Art left.
Ron felt his mind tiring, the case of the mutilated prostitute tugged at the back of his mind, and he wondered if being burnt out was what left it unsolved.
"What's this?" Ron raised an eyebrow at the file that had been dropped on his desk. A few photographs tumble out. Ron barely glances at them as he tidies the disarrayed documents and places them back in the file before they become lost in the mountain of paperwork already there.
"These were sent over this morning. Take a look." The deep monotone voice of his supervisor jogs his mind back to reality. With one hand he thumbs the corner of the folder and the other runs through his salt and pepper hair. He makes a mental note to get a haircut as it starts to appear unkempt. He grazes over the notes on the first page before looking up questioningly to his superior.
"This is not my jurisdiction?" a puzzled look comes to his face when he read the site location.
"No, it's not. But just look at the file there are some similarities to a case you handled a few weeks back - when you are done make sure you send over your stuff to them... although it will probably become yours if you want it. Just requires some coordinating..." His supervisor slowly trails off his sentence as he becomes disinterested and went back to reading something in his hands ignoring him completely.
Ron returns to his own reading. He flips the cover page.
Some similarities is an understatement.
***
Based on this new development Ron is surprised that his supervisor did not seem more excited that they would have first dibs on the case. It would be high profile and it would likely mean another promotion for his young ambitious boss. Perhaps he thought it would be too much for Ron to handle and they would be better off leaving this one to the big city detectives, with bigger budgets and more experience.
Ron turns his attention to the large volume of photographs the scene technicians had taken. The black and white images have a haunting affect. The shadows make it seem staged - gore for shock. The lifeless eyes of the poor woman stare off to the right, the tongue rolled off and out at an odd angle. To her side, a plash of darkness pooled onto the ground. There was a dark gaping wound that ran the length of the neck. As had been the case with Martha, Polly's skirt was pulled up, almost to the height of her chest. Her lower abdomen gave off the appearance of a poorly carved Thanksgiving turkey.
Stab wounds, Ron deducts.
"Shit? How did I not hear about this sooner?" Ron's eyes grow wide as he looks up for an answer.
"Not sure how it didn't get the kind of publicity ours did - maybe Toronto just sees more of this kind of stuff?" His supervisor shrugs his shoulders and turns to make his way back to his office ending any further attempts at conversation.
***
Ron examines the pictures at length, spreading them across his desk, the macabre display drawing the attention of those who sit around him. Noticing the attention he is garnishing, Ron gathers the pictures up and tucks them back into the file. As he looks around, mixed expressions plaster the faces around him - horror, shock, intrigue, sadness and pity. The group quickly disperse as each individual turn to other tasks. Pushing the thoughts of those around him aside, he turns back to the file, pulling it open to look at the statements.
There had been no witnesses. The body had been discovered early in the morning on August 31st by a Nathan Blakely. He was of no help and the canvassing had returned nothing.
The fingerprints came back as a Polly Stanton. A few priors for drunken disorderly, a solicitation charge, that had been dropped, and one assault charge from when she had been eighteen.
The detective on the case had tracked down her ex-husband who had sole custody of their children. None of them had seen her in over three years. The details he provided coincided with her record. Polly was having an affair with the bottle and when he made her choose, the liquid was too much for her to give up. Ron shook his head thinking about how sad it must be too choose an alcohol fueled reality to one with your small children and husband.
Her mother had passed some years ago, but her father spoke fondly of their family life together. She was raised upper middle class and had married a boy from the neighbourhood. Remaining a close family unit until shortly after the divorce. At first she would check in with her father to learn about her children and how everyone was doing. The calls became less frequent until they ceased altogether.
He had once tried to track her down - unsuccessfully. Although noted as distraught, he stated to have 'found solace in the closure.'
After both interviews, the detective had not liked either of the man for the murder.
An older picture in the file from five years previous showed an attractive and vibrant woman - a photocopy of her recent driver's license showed an aged somber version.
After reading through the statements and finding nothing particularly helpful, Ron turns his attention to the evidence and coroner statements.
Her list of belongings compiled an oddity of trinkets: a comb, a white linen handkerchief, a small mirror and a ten dollar bill.
Ron takes a second look at one of the crime scene photographs that provided a full view of Polly. Her hair was curled, and having two nearly grown daughters, he knew those curls were the result of a curling iron. Pulling his notebook from the breast pocket of his jacket, he makes the notation - Polly - curled hair - comb? - before returning it to it's home.
With the exception of the money, the belongings had been dusted and came back without a single print. There was nothing distinct about any, and all could have been purchased at your corner pharmacy. Several different partials had been pulled off the currency, and while the results were still out, Ron already knew that was dicey.
The tags on her clothing showed wear of that which had been laundered several times. Her shoes had been found a short distance from the body. With the exception of a few hairs, they were unable to pull anything else, and the initial notes indicated that they appeared to be a match to the victim.
The evidence did not appear any more promising then what they had for Martha.
The similarities to Martha were astounding. The placement of the body, as if it had been gently laid down to rest showed a sharp contradiction to the cruelty unleashed upon it. The skirt had been hiked up, displaying her in a degrading fashion as she lay on the side street next to Essex Condominiums. Polly staring lifelessly up from the cold asphalt that would be her final resting place. The eyes, endlessly searching.
A deep purple blush set the lower right jaw and a circular bruise covered the left side of the face. The examiner noted lacerations and stabs covering her neck and torso. The official post mortem noted that a total of five teeth were missing. They had been recovered in Polly's pocket, suggesting that they were pulled by the killer.
No injuires were about the body until the lower torso. A jagged wound ran left to right across the abdomen, which had cut deep. Two additional wounds stretched in a similar fashion and on the right side four diagonal lacerations had occurred.
It was of his opinion that all the injuries were caused by the same instrument - a moderately sharp, long bladed knife.
Cause of death was determined to be a slash of the throat with the majority of the mutilation happening post mortem. Ron thought it to be a small relief that the murderer was compassionate enough to make the kill quick before settling into his madness.
The wounds in a frenzied yet precise manner, would have taken less than 5-10 minutes to complete. Ron shuddered as he reads over the notes.
Slitting a throat was personal, it meant holding the victim, in an intimate and twisted embrace. Ron wondered how you could hate another person this much. He ran his fingers through his hair and said a silent prayer for humanity.
Taking everything in, there was little more to go on other than possibly profession and alcoholism.
***
Emma jumped at the sound of Ethan dropping a stack of files on his desk.
"What's that?" She inquires spinning around in her chair to face her partner.
"Back up photographs from last weeks cases," he answers as he proceeds to label each one. Emma watches the methodological task for a few minutes before turning her attention back to her desk.
"Do you rememebr that case we worked a few weeks ago?"
"Sorry, you will have to be more specific - we do work several a week." She glances at her To Do List scribbled on the corner of her desktop calendar and wonders which one will allow for her to multi task with the lengthy conversation she knew she had just unravelled.
"The one at Intrepid Park," his tone flat and matter of fact as he continues with his routine.
"How could I forget," the statement barely escapes her lips and she realizes her voice comes out as a croak. If she allowerd herself to be truthful, not a day had gone by where she did not think about that early morning at least once. Martha did not just haunt Emma's dreams, she haunted her waking moments as well.
"It still gets me too," Emma can feel Ethan shudder through the back of their touching chairs. Knowing she was not alone in this provided a small element of comfort.
"What about it Ethan?" Emotional bonding was not on the menu.
"Well, I have this buddy in Toronto..."
"You have a buddy?" Emma could not help but laugh at Ethan's expense. She flashes him a large smile so that he knows she is just poking fun at him.
Barely giving her a roll of his eyes he continues, "Yes, before you interrupted me, I have a friend, his name is Alex, he is an analyst in Toronto...anyways he worked a case a few days ago and when he did some background, linked it to that one - at Intrepid."
"Linked it. How?"
Ethan stops and stares at the motivational poster hanging over his desk. He watches the waves crash at the rocks at the base of a lighthouse.
"He didn't tell me much, prostitute, throat slit, mutilation. I never really looked into it, you know, not our workload and I don't want to get into trouble...just thought I would share."
***
This had nothing to do with them. Emma knew that. She is busy. This is not her case work, and yet it still nags at her.
Silently she twirls a select few strands of her long auburn hair between her thumb and index finger. She scrolls through the pictures of the crime scene taking in all the minute details. Saving them to memory, to be recalled at a later date.
The killer was smart, no fingerprints to run, no DNA samples left behind and the body discovered in a heavily traveled locations.
It was evident that he wanted attention in the way he choose such anonymous victims, whom no one would have reported missing for weeks perhaps even months and at the same time created such a grand display.
Emma turns her attention to the file photographs. Missing teeth, bruised face, and several incisions across her abdomen. There were definite similarities to Martha's case, and yet there was a familiarity beyond that - almost as if she had seen these same images before.
Emma racked her brain, 'think, darn it - you know this!' It was there, she could feel it, pushing its way into her conscious mind. Try as she might, it will not surface.
This had been the reason why Emma had requested the transfer - she has a great eye for gathering and objectively analyzing the evidence, what she lacks is the intuition - the gut - to piece things together. An integral part of being a good detective, in her mind.
While Emma's supervisor at the time had tried to talk her out of it, she honestly felt that her place was in the lab and after she had received the training she knew she was right.
Emma couldn't put that last piece together - she is missing something.
A/N: This is the 2nd revision to this section. An exchange between Ethan and Emma has been added which I am hoping will provide further clarification and character development. As well I have augmented the section regarding the details around Polly's unfortunate demise. Not only does it add clues, it shows a greater connection between the two cases.