Bad Bones (Claire Morgan) by Linda Ladd Read Free Book Online Page B

back out of his reach. Pa started laughing.
    “Okay, now. That’s more like it, kid. Showin’ a little spunk now, aren’t you, boy? That’s what you gotta do, show me some grit and I’ll leave you be. Maybe I oughta beat that little puppy there every time you turn coward. Maybe that’s what’ll light a fire under you and get you as tough as the rest of us. Nothin’ else’s done it.”
    Punk said nothing, just ground his teeth together so he wouldn’t cry. But inside he was angry, so angry that he could barely stand it. He wanted to grab that whip and beat his father in the face with it. But Pa was untying his hands. Then he turned around and walked off toward the house without another word. Punk fell to his knees and grabbed up Banjo and held her tightly against his chest, licking the little dog’s face, comforting her just like Banjo had comforted him the night before. That’s when Punk decided that Pa wasn’t never gonna hit Banjo again, never. Even if he had to beat some other kid to death in a fight, Pa wasn’t ever going to whip poor little Banjo again.

Chapter Three
    By the time Claire and Bud arrived at the medical examiner’s office late the next morning, the rest of the team had already assembled around the corpse. Fortunately, the forecasters had been wrong and the storm front had not materialized, at least not directly over the lake. Outside, the sun was actually bright and shining and making the mountains of snow sparkle in the balmy nineteen-degree weather. Not a lot of melting going on, however, and that was unfortunate. As they entered the autopsy room where Buck still had the victim’s body warming under heat lamps, the first thing Claire noticed was the ultra-serious expressions on her colleagues’ faces. The second thing she noted were the x-rays on the light boxes attached to the back wall.
    Buck saw her repulsed reaction. “That’s right. Every damn bone in his body is either broken or cracked or chipped. Some have pierced through the skin, causing severe compound fractures. This poor man endured a beating like none other that I’ve seen or heard of in all the many years I’ve worked here.”
    Bud moved closer and stared at the x-rays. “So he didn’t fall, I take it? He was just dumped down there?”
    “Some of the damage could’ve come from the fall, I reckon. There are lots of cuts and abrasions and bruises. But certainly not to this degree, and certainly not incurred by that kind of fall. The skull is fractured in three different places. If I had to guess, I’d say an aluminum baseball bat or a piece of pipe, maybe even a tire iron or crowbar, something on that order.”
    “Good grief,” Bud muttered, still staring at the films. “I’ve never seen anything like this, either.”
    Buckeye nodded. “Certainly not this extensive. I believe this victim was slowly and methodically beaten to death, no question in my mind.”
    Claire stood beside Bud and studied the skeletal fractures, her mind hovering on the very edge of disbelief, too. “How could anybody do something like this to another human being?”
    “The victim probably didn’t stay conscious very long, unless the perpetrator saved those blows to his head for last. The pain he suffered would’ve been excruciating. And look at the body. I’ve never seen so many bones actually broken and piercing through the skin, except maybe in the very worst car crashes. Look how many there are, and all over the body. This took some time and effort and know-how.”
    “A crime of passion,” Claire said. “Whoever did this hated this guy’s guts, no doubt about it, not to my mind.”
    “Yeah. Or maybe there could’ve been more than one assailant,” Bud said. “It would take a long time to inflict this much damage. We got overkill here. Big-time.”
    Claire moved back to the body and felt the heat from the lamps warm her cold face. There was water on the steel table under the body from the thawing process. She stared down at