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he
were giving a lecture while directing my gaze with his gloved hand,
“there are several deep lacerations along her hips and thighs.”
    Razor precise incisions lined her shapely,
once unblemished legs in diagonal, half-chevron stripes. Lifeless
flesh, now growing mildly flaccid, shrank away in opposing
directions, exposing the severity and depth of the cuts.
    “Whoever made the incisions managed to miss
any major blood vessels.” The doctor continued his dispassionate
dissertation of the facts. “And, as I told you, her spinal column
was virtually shattered, most likely from the fall. However, there
were several fractures in her limbs, and both shoulders were
displaced. Bruising would indicate that both the dislocations and a
number of the leg fractures occurred well before she died.”
    “How long?” I asked.
    “Six to twelve hours, approximately.”
    “I assume she rented the room and not her
client?” I directed the question over my shoulder to Ben. “Or else
I wouldn’t be here looking at this.”
    “Yeah,” he grunted. “Room was in her name.
Rented that afternoon on her credit card. Not unusual for her
accordin’ to her Vice rap sheet. Considerin’ what she charged per
hour, I expect she just considered it the cost of doin’
business.”
    “What time did she take the fall?”
    I heard him flip back through his notes.
“Call came in around one-forty a.m. She bounced off the hood of a
BMW and set off the alarm. It was parked right in front of the
lobby entrance, so she wasn’t layin’ there for long.”
    I mused aloud for my friend’s benefit as well
as my own. “That means, theoretically, he could have been torturing
her almost the entire day. But why didn’t anyone hear her? Surely
she had to have screamed.”
    “We found fibers matching the hotel linens in
her mouth and bite lacerations on her tongue,” the medical examiner
offered. “As well as tape residue around her mouth.”
    “There were washcloths and a lot of duct tape
in the room,” Ben added. “Lab’s checking for saliva and all that,
but we’re pretty sure he used ‘em to gag her. Show him the other
marks, Doc.”
    “Mister Gant, if you’ll step over here.”
    I moved down the length of the metal table
toward the M.E., and Ben followed along behind. With heartless
clinical detachment, the doctor carefully scissored Brianna
Walker’s legs apart. In a sense, I had begun to feel sorry for him.
Dealing with the cruelties of death on a daily basis had robbed him
of his compassion. I loathed the thought of becoming as he was but
at the same time wished for the ability to switch off the emotions
I was now feeling.
    “Here on the inner thigh.” He indicated a
patch of incised flesh as he held a large magnifying glass above
it.
    The lens did its prescribed duty and visually
enlarged the area, showing a circle carefully carved into the skin.
Around the edges of the circle, small hash marks bisected the
curved line. Centrally located in the ringlet, a large X
intersected and formed union with a large P. I simply stared in
utter disbelief.
    “There is an identical marking on the left
inner thigh as well. There are several small but unremarkable
puncture wounds on her back and buttocks. It also appears that
several cigarettes were used to burn the soles of her feet.”
    The doctor continued his antiseptic diatribe,
carefully outlining the facts of the examination for my benefit. He
was still holding the magnifying glass in place while I blindly
gazed through it. Staring dumbfounded, only superficially aware
that it was he who was speaking, yet still assimilating the
information that was voiced.
    “Her pelvis is fractured in a manner
inconsistent with injuries from the fall. Evidence of bleeding and
preliminary examination would seem to indicate that some foreign
object was inserted forcibly into her vagina.”
    “A Pear ,” I whispered, ending my
muteness.
    “What?” Ben asked. “You mean the shithead
stuck fruit up