McCabe squeezed in next to Terri. She pointed a gloved finger to a wound in the small indentation in the back of Jane Doe’s neck. Right where the head and the neck connect. A small wound, no more than half an inch across. ‘That’s what killed her?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Looks like the killer pushed a thin-bladed knife or possibly an ice pick up into the base of her skull at the C1 vertebra. Probably went through the foramen magnum and into the brain stem.’

‘The foramen what?’

‘The foramen magnum. It’s a small opening at the base of the skull. The spinal cord goes through it to attach to the brain stem. If the killer gets it right, he severs the spine from the brain; cardiac and respiratory systems stop working. The victim falls to the ground dead.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

‘Doesn’t look like there was much bleeding.’

‘He didn’t hit any major blood vessels.’

‘Death was instantaneous?’ asked Maggie.

‘Yes. It’s called pithing. It’s one of the very few injuries that cause virtually instantaneous death. Victim goes down like a rag doll.’

‘If he hits the wrong spot?’

‘He ends up with a messy, possibly nonlethal wound.’

‘So the creep knows his anatomy.’

‘Yes. Unless he was just lucky, he knows his anatomy well enough to know the effect. Though, if the victim is immobilized, and it looks like she may have been, it’s pretty easy to put the knife where you want it.’

‘You’re sure that’s what killed her?’

‘About as sure as I can be until I get her in for the autopsy, and we can’t do that until she thaws out. It’ll be three or four days at the very least. Probably more like a week.’

‘A week? Jesus. Can’t we do it faster?’ asked Maggie. ‘Maybe soak her in a tub under running water? That’s how my mom handled the Butterballs.’

‘Unfortunately, she’s not a turkey. We thaw her too fast and we end up with tissue damage. The outside starts decomposing while the internal organs are still frozen. That’ll interfere with some of the tests I need to run. Plus, soaking her in water could wash away any trace evidence on or in the body. We’ll just have to wait.’

‘A week?’

‘For a total thaw, yes. We’ll put her in the refrigeration unit at the lab, and at a constant thirty-eight degrees, it’ll take about a week. Doing it that way minimizes decomp. Helps us learn more about what or who killed her. However, we should be able to get some information sooner.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, I’ll be able to check the body surface almost immediately, and clip her nails in case she scratched her attacker. If there’s any hair or saliva or skin cells that aren’t hers, we’ll find them. Also I should be able to move her limbs enough in a day or so to do an internal swab and check for semen.’ Even going over the gory details Terri sounded cheerful. She was one of those people who loved her job. Unraveling the mysteries of the dead, as they might have said on the Discovery Channel. McCabe found forensic pathology a strange way to get your jollies, but he guessed that’s what made Terri so good at it.

She went back to her task of looking over the body. She was squatting down, shining her light at Jane Doe’s face, when she called out, ‘McCabe?’

‘Yeah?’

‘She’s got something in her mouth.’

‘Like what?’ McCabe pushed in next to Terri again and looked where her light was pointing. Jane Doe’s lips and teeth were slightly parted. Behind the teeth he could see a small flash of white he hadn’t noticed before.

‘Looks like paper,’ said Terri.

‘A gag?’ asked Maggie.

‘I don’t think so,’ said McCabe. ‘It’s not balled up like a gag would be. Looks folded. Maybe some kind of note? Like maybe the murderer left us a message. Can you get it out?’

‘I don’t know. Her jaw’s frozen in position. No more than an eighth of an inch clearance. I’ll try to thread it through the opening with forceps.’

‘Won’t the paper be frozen, too?’ asked Maggie.

‘Mouth would have to be wet for the paper to freeze, but it might have been. Possibly with saliva. Or, if decomp already started, there might be some purge fluid.’

Terri rummaged in her bag and came out with an instrument that looked like a pair of delicate tweezers with small blunt teeth at the ends. She slipped it between Jane Doe’s parted lips, grasped the paper, and gently tugged. It didn’t move. ‘It’s frozen, alright,’ she said. ‘I’ll see if I can wiggle it free.’

It took three or four minutes of carefully pulling and prodding, first one way, then the other. Finally the paper moved. ‘I think maybe I’ve freed it. Now let’s see if I can extract it without tearing it.’

Holding Jane Doe’s frozen jaw in place with her left hand, Terri coaxed the paper through her parted teeth. Finally it was free.

‘Can you unfold it?’ asked McCabe. ‘Let’s see what’s written. If anything.’

‘Not till we warm it up a bit,’ said Terri. She was holding what looked like a standard 81/2’ by 11’ sheet of copy paper between the teeth of her forceps. The paper was folded over and over into a one- by two-inch wad. It had been discolored, probably by fluid in the mouth.

‘Here, Doc, put it in here.’ Bill Jacobi was holding out a small stainless steel pan. ‘We’ll warm it in the van. Then maybe we can take a look.’

Terri dropped the folded sheet of paper into the pan. They walked back toward Jacobi’s crime scene van. It only took a minute for Bill to warm the paper enough to unfold it. He flattened it on a tray and took two shots of it, front and back, with a digital camera.

McCabe looked down. The paper was blank except for two words printed in the center in twelve-point type in an ordinary font.

Amos. 9:10.

‘From the Bible?’ asked Maggie.

‘Yes,’ said McCabe. ‘Unfortunately. It may not be good news.’

Maggie looked at him sharply. ‘Why? What’s it say? Who’s Amos?’

‘One of the minor Old Testament prophets. Book of Amos. Chapter nine. Verse ten.’ McCabe closed his eyes and let his brain take him back to sixth-grade Bible class at St Barnabas. There he was, eleven-year-old Michael, the oddity standing uncomfortably before the entire class. And there was Sister Mary Joseph, standing over him, smiling benignly down, celebrating God’s gift of eidetic memory to her young student, making him recite yet another passage from an obscure book of the Bible. Her version of Trivial Pursuit. Could she stump him? No, she couldn’t. Not even with the Book of Amos. Twenty-seven years later in the cold and dark of the Portland Fish Pier, McCabe’s mind brought the words back. ‘It seems someone was punishing our victim for her sins.’

‘What’s it say?’ Maggie asked again.

‘All the sinners of my people shall die by the sword, which say, The evil shall not overtake nor prevent us. That’s what the Book of Amos was all about. God punishing the Israelites for their sins.’

‘What kinds of sins?’

‘The standard list. Greed, corruption, oppression of the poor.’

‘It did say all the sinners – so there might be more?’

‘Well, she might be the only sinner he planned on punishing, but I’m not sure I’d count on it.’

Jacobi stared at McCabe. ‘Book of Amos? Chapter nine? Verse ten? I heard you have a fancy memory, but how in hell would you know a thing like that?’

‘Trust him, Bill. He knows,’ said Maggie.

‘You know the whole Bible by heart?’

‘No. Just the parts we learned in class.’ He passed Terri the note.

Terri glanced at the note and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Wonder what sins he was punishing her for.’

‘The sins of the flesh, I suppose. It’s a pretty common syndrome among whackos all the way from Jack the Ripper to that guy Picton they just put away in Vancouver.’

‘Those guys were hunting prostitutes,’ said Maggie. ‘Elaine Goff was a lawyer, not a prostitute. And yes, McCabe,’ she added, looking directly at him, ‘there is a difference.’