Strangulation. The most intimate way to kill someone but one that suggested a lack of sexual motivation.
“Were there any signs of sexual assault?” she asked.
“No. I’m certain of it. No semen residue that I could find, and it looks to me like this woman hasn’t been sexually active in a while.”
Interesting, she thought. “What about these cuts?” Ella asked.
Dr. Levesque moved the light over the severed limb. Jagged cuts, not completely clean, but could have passed for surgical accuracy a century ago.
“The good news is that we’re not dealing with a professional surgeon here. These cuts were made with a hacksaw. An industrial strength hacksaw with a bi-metal blade, probably stainless steel but I can’t be sure.”
“And he did this by hand?” Ella asked.
“Definitely. An electric saw would have pulled this off much more cleanly.”
“Something like this requires some serious strength, right?” Ella asked.
“Yes. This man also likes making work for himself, because he chose the toughest part of the leg to cut through. Just above the knee would have been much easier. Less fatty tissue, more feeble bones. Another tick in the amateur box,” the doctor said.
Ella only had one more question regarding victim number one. “Doctor, can you tell how long the victim was dead for before the dissection took place?” Paige had joined her side, arms folded, eyes locked on the doctor’s lips.
“Impossible to say. I never give times of death and any pathologist that does is lying to you. There are too many variables with liver temperature or lividity. Even insect activity is smoke and mirrors.”
Every day was a school day, Ella thought. She’d keep that in mind for next time.
“Got you. And victim two?” She turned to her partner. “Okay there Ellis?”
Paige waved a dismissive hand. Ella guessed not. Her medical mask was all but concealing her vital micro-signals, but her body language said she wanted out of here fast. Better make it quick, Ella told herself.
Dr. Levesque moved onto the second body. Everything was an exact reproduction of the first, even down to the placement of the wound.
“Teri Harper. Also 25 years old, right down to the same month as the last vic. Everything’s identical. The marks on the neck. The dissection of the leg. Your man has hit copy and paste,” the doctor said.
Ella glanced between the two corpses, searching for something that distinguished them from one another. Aside from Teri’s missing leg, nothing stood out. The exact replication suggested a highly specific ritual, and it implied that this killer wouldn’t deviate from his modus operandi no matter what the victim or police threw his way. It meant the killer might suffer from a kind of psychosis, perhaps one of an obsessive-compulsive nature.
“What about the leg?” Ella asked. “Anything to note?”
“Yes actually,” Levesque said. She shone her light over the severed limb. “This leg does indeed belong to Cassie Sullivan, and your man preserved it very well during his time with it.”
Ella wasn’t surprised. To this killer, the ritual was everything. Everything had been planned and calculated long before he took his saw to these women’s bodies.
“Frozen?”
“Yes, but before that he exsiccated it. Quite well I might add.”
Ella glanced back at Paige to see how she was holding up. Not well. She looked one gruesome term away from fainting. Ella told herself it was time to wrap it up.
“As in embalmed?” she asked as she moved back to her partner. It was the little gesture that declared their exit was on the horizon.
“Along the same lines. He treated this leg with dry heat to remove the excess moisture, like a butcher would with an animal carcass. But there’s one more thing. Something I wasn’t confident about until I double-checked just before you got here.”
“Oh?” Ella asked. If there was an anomaly, it could really help get an idea of this perp’s state of mind. Right now, he was something of an enigma.
“If I place the severed leg up against the wound, it doesn’t… exactly match.” Levesque said.
Ella’s first thought was that there might be another victim, but the doctor had confirmed it belonged to Cassie Sullivan.
“It doesn’t match? Like it might belong to someone else?”