There are rarely places to sit in a morgue, this one was no exception. The overly bright room that reeked of antiseptic had two stools on rollers. I sat on a stainless steel table that had been covered with a clean sheet. There were other tables in the room, but they were all filled with decaying body parts. The smell of decay permeated the antiseptic, giving the room a terrible odor. My nose had peppermint balm under it, making my upper lip tingle and keeping me from getting a migraine from the mingled scents.
Xavier and the odontologist were working on bite marks. I was not, however, my presence seemed to be required, so I had stacks of folders in front of me. I’d spent the morning sorting them into piles by age and sex. They were all the missing persons reported in Boone County, Missouri over the last thirty years. I had to admit, there was a staggering number.
Mostly, I was looking for young children and teens, of both sexes. Everyone else went into a different pile. So far, I had over a hundred case files sorted into the “important” piles. The stack had gotten smaller, but it didn’t feel like it had dwindled much.
Technically, this was a “John Job.” He was the geek that searched files and did magical things on his computer to sort them by relevancy. However, someone had decided it needed a more hands on approach, so I had hard copies of the files to look at.
“I’m not sure I’ll get a good impression from any of these bites,” the odontologist said loudly. His voice held a pitch that said not only was he frustrated, but horrified.
“Why?” I asked, ready for a break, however brief.
“They aren’t clean bite marks,” Xavier answered for the odontologist.
“Ah, more like worry marks than bite marks,” I sighed. “I could see that.”
“If she could guess that from sitting on a table looking at God knows what, why am I here?” The odontologist asked.
“Because I can’t make bite impressions,” I answered. “Besides, I didn’t know they were going to be worked out instead of just torn out, I’ve never eaten a person. But now that you’ve said it, it makes sense. Even strong jaws would require a little work to tear through skin, muscles, ligaments, nerves, and tendons. Neanderthal might have been able to accomplish it, but Homo sapien sapiens, probably can’t.”
“Who says the sapien twice?” Xavier asked.
“I do,” I answered.
“Yeah, only you,” Xavier shook his head.
“I am technically correct.” I frowned at him. “Try on a thinner area, where teeth would scrape bone, like the face or arms.”
“Teeth scrapes on bone do not give a good impression,” the odontologist told me.
“Maybe not, but if teeth scrape bone there, you might be able to find a good impression nearby where teeth collided with bone. Like when you eat ribs.” I offered the only example that came to mind. “You don’t mean to bite the rib bone, but sometimes it happens.”
“Oh, the scapula might have something,” Xavier became animated. I left him and the odontologist to it and went back to looking at files.
I opened one and just stopped. The picture that stared back at me was of a smiling young girl missing one of her front teeth. She had a large bruise on her chin and a scrape near her hairline. Long brown hair was pulled up into a loose braid, strands had begun to break free and framed her face. Large brown eyes sparkled with a smile that was both genuine and happy. The file had been marked “Gennifer Evans,” but the photo was of me. I had been a cute kid, but I didn’t remember ever being that happy. I didn’t know Gennifer Evans, she had gone missing after I had killed Callow and was a few years younger than me. I wasn’t sure how my picture had ended up in her folder, but I removed it. I’d already found my case file, wedged carelessly into another, one that had never been found but was suspected of being a victim of Callow.
“Whoa,” Xavier said from over my shoulder. “Add a few scars, some frown lines, and a tan and that could be you.”
“That is me,” I told him.
“Really?” Xavier looked at me. “Huh, you’re right. You had a lot fewer scars, but what’s with the bruise?”
“I fell off a bicycle, scraped my face and scalp, bruised my chin, and all two days before picture day. I went missing the following week. I have no idea how this picture even found its way into a file, let alone the wrong file. My parents wouldn’t have had it when I escaped.” I thought about it, then looked at the folder again. “If I had to make an educated guess, I would say my father did it, but I do not know why. I didn’t know the girl whose file I found it in and my case file was in another folder.”
“Why would your dad do that?” Xavier asked.
“There are many things I don’t know about my father, his work life is one of them,” I answered. This wasn’t because my father was enigmatic, but because my father had gone off the deep end. I had once been his “little girl,” but things had changed after Callow. Our relationship had gotten cold and distant after I returned home, now a killer at the tender age of eight. I had never dwelt on it before, but it had changed. There were no more bedtime stories, he didn’t pray with me at night or encourage me to find faith and meaning. He hadn’t taken me anywhere or allowed me out of his sight when he was home. While my mother was encouraging me to make friends, my father was banning them from the house for sleepovers or even birthday parties. The rotating poker game my father had loved had stopped rotating and become a permanent fixture in our house. He became overbearing and oppressive at times, monitoring my movements with every resource he could muster. He never called me his “little girl” again. Perhaps he hadn’t been protecting me, but protecting the world from me.
“I got one!” The odontologist suddenly shouted. Xavier jumped. I turned to stare at the man like he had just manifested maggots from thin air. One thing about being a sociopath, I didn’t have much of a startle reflex. I was more annoyed that he had interrupted my reverie.
“Great, what does it tell us?” Xavier asked.
“Well, if you can find a person, I can tell you if it’s a match,” the odontologist answered. “Otherwise, it’s just a piece of evidence. One molar is chipped, but not badly. They could use braces.” He gave me a sideways glance at this. I took out the dentures on top and frowned.
“Braces always seemed like a waste,” I answered, putting the dentures back in. “I’ve lost a lot of teeth over the years. Straightening them would have been pointless.”
“Are you always combative?” He asked me.
“Yes,” I answered flatly.
“It isn’t personal,” Xavier stepped in. “She’s like this with everyone until you get to know her really well, then it’s worse.” Xavier smiled at his own joke. I raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
“I see. Well, that’s about all I can give you. An educated guess says that all the bite marks are from a single person. You can see evidence of the chipped tooth in a couple of different places, the size is roughly the same and the way they worked loose the flesh with their teeth is similar.”
“Similar, not exact?” I asked.
“It will never be exact. If you gnaw on a hundred bones, each will be slightly different based on the size of the bone, the amount of tissue adhering to it, the effort you put into the bite, and honestly, your overall mood can impact it.”
“Close enough?” I pressed.
“It’s all very close, I’d give it a 97% chance that all the bites were made by the same person.”
“I’ll take 97%,” Xavier jumped back into the conversation, steering it away from any doubts I might have. “Thank you for taking the time to help with this.”
“You’re welcome, I hope you catch him soon,” the doctor nodded at me and shook hands with Xavier. I gave a small wave.
“Did you learn anything from the files?” Xavier came back over to me.
“Maybe,” I answered cryptically. “There are a lot of missing persons in the county. If we widened the search, I can’t imagine how much larger the number would grow to be. I can tell you that over the years, there have been increases in missing persons all around the same age and gender. It goes on for a few months then it stops.”
“How so?” Xavier asked.
“Well, we have the group of girls, progressively younger, from twenty-five years ago, then we have another cluster, this time boys, progressively younger about twenty years ago. In the interim, there are boys and girls that go missing and might or might not be related. Then we jump ahead and sixteen years ago, a group of girls went missing again, this time they were about twelve when they went missing and got progressively younger. So, it goes in spurts. Some could be attributed to other killers, but the progressively younger bothers me. Also, there’s been a handful of feet found in the county with no bodies. Some have belonged to boys, some girls, some young children, some teenagers, one had a tattoo on it, and so I’m guessing that one was a little older. It’s almost like he’s experimenting to find the right age and sex.”
“Meat ages different,” Xavier said. “You don’t want a steak from a cow that’s got one foot in the grave.”
“Crude, but accurate,” I said. “I think the deviation is about finding the right age and gender that produces the best food.”
“By the way,” Xavier quickly snatched the photo of me. “You were adorable.”
“That inspires me with terror,” I climbed down from the table.