Tattooed by Pamela Callow Read Free Book Online

she freaked and dropped all her samples.” He pointed at the flagged test tubes that were visible in the scrub. “The good news is that she says she didn’t remove anything from the bog except the bone she found. So far, I can’t see anything to disprove it.”
Dr. Hughes opened her backpack and removed a DSLR camera with a massive lens. “Hopefully, she didn’t disturb any loose bones. I’m going to take some photos in situ. Then we’ll stake the area into a grid, and set up a datum point. And then, ” she said, giving Dr. Guthro a conspiratorial grin, “it’s time to get our hands dirty.”
Gridding, Ethan knew, was painstaking work. And he guessed that this particular grid would prove to be more challenging than most.
He was right. Once the general area to be gridded was determined by Dr. Hughes, and the datum point had been established, they began the process of staking twelve-inch-by-twelve-inch sections and marking the grid with rope. The stakes had a nasty habit of either sinking into the hummock or being yanked out by a too-enthusiastic tightening of the rope.
Sweat soon ran down their backs, attracting a cloud of persistent blackflies. Several hours later, Ethan figured he had personally supplied the local blackfly population with enough blood to keep them going for a week.
As soon as the grid was complete, Dr. Hughes took more photos. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing upward. Over the time it had taken to lay out the grid, a massive bank of clouds had obliterated the blue sky. No sign of the sun now. It would be dark in about two hours. He hoped that the M.E. would be able to remove the body by tonight…but that was assuming there was an intact skeleton. It would all depend on what they found when they began the process of removing the layers of hummock covering the remains.
“Clarence,” Dr. Hughes said, turning to Dr. Guthro, hands on her hips as she surveyed the gridded area. “We aren’t going to be able to sift through this. It’s too spongy and wet. Not to mention all the roots from the scrub.” She swiped a strand of hair from her forehead, leaving a streak of mucky water in its stead.
Dr. Guthro offered her a handkerchief. “What do you propose?”
She dabbed the sweat on her forehead with the neatly pressed cotton square, which Ethan noted were monogrammed with the medical examiner’s initials. “We are going to have to remove the hummock in sections. We can take the sections back to the lab and try to break the peat down. If we can’t sift through it all, we will have to X-ray each piece.”
Dr. Guthro’s brows rose. “I can just imagine how popular we would be with the X-ray techs. Hopefully, we won’t need to do that.”
Dr. Hughes stuffed the handkerchief in one of her pockets. “I’ll give this a wash, Clarence,” she said with a grin, and picked up the spade that lay under an open kit bag. “I’m going to remove the first section. I’ll start with the one over the mask.”
She climbed onto the hummock, and knelt next to the flagged section. “Clarence, can you help me on the other side? I need someone to take the section when I lift it up.” She groped in one of her many vest pockets and extracted a plastic bag, which she handed to Dr. Guthro.
The Forensic Identification Services team, which had been searching the area, grouped behind Ethan, a wall of white bunny suits peering over Dr. Hughes’ shoulder as she sliced the edge of the spade into the hummock. Water squelched up its sides as she pushed the spade deeper. Then she slid it up, and repeated the process along the other three sides of the section. “I think I’ve loosened it enough,” she said.
All eyes were fixed on the spade as she pushed it into the section, tipped the edge under and lifted the edge of the hummock up. It appeared about two feet deep. A mass of torn roots thatched the underside. A fresh, piney scent filled Ethan’s nose, undercut with a damp, mossy smell.
Dr. Guthro held open the