Indefensible by Pamela Callow Page A

sullen eyes. “I’m not leaving her.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Ethan asked, his tone gentle.
    â€œNick.”
    â€œNick,” he said, “this isn’t something you need to see.”
    The young man’s jaw clenched. “I’m not leaving her.”
    His sister threw him an alarmed look.
    Ethan gave a subtle nod to the constable. The constable leaned down and grasped Nick’s arm. “I’m sorry, but this is police protocol. We are conducting an investigation. We need to examine her.” Nick’s eyes dropped. What kid would want to see their dead mother being examined for trace evidence?
    The constable tugged gently on Nick’s arm. “Let’s go, Nick.” The teen stood, his stance suggesting defiance but his eyes expressing defeat. He pulled his arm from the constable’s grasp and looked at his sister. “Come on, Luce.”
    Ethan watched the brother and sister leave. Their bodies leaned toward one another, but whenever the sister got too close the brother shifted away.
    They needed to get a child worker in first thing tomorrow to interview these kids.
    The Ident guy was taking photos of the victim’s body, starting at midrange, then moving in for close-ups.
    â€œCan I have a quick look at her?” Ethan asked the FIS technician. He wanted to get a feel for the victim before examining the crime scene. The detective nodded, lowering his camera. Ethan knelt carefully by Elise Vanderzell.
    Did she know she was about to die when she arrived this afternoon? he wondered as he studied her empty eyes.
    That was the million-dollar question. They’d have to check for signs of suicide—a note, prescription drugs, depressed behavior. Other signs, like putting out garbage when it wasn’t garbage day or excessive cleaning, were unlikely, as she had only just arrived.
    A dark, glistening mask of blood on one side of her face had the effect of highlighting her pure bone structure. She was a beautiful woman, Ethan realized. And in the prime of her life, judging from the toned limbs revealed by her spaghetti-strap nightgown.
    No markings on her neck. Just a smooth column that fanned out into tanned shoulders and swelling breasts. He scanned her nightgown inch by inch. The FIS detective would use a Lumalight to look for hidden stains—semen, in particular—but the only thing that was visible to Ethan’s gaze was a tear in the fabric near the hip of her nightgown. Had it caught on the edge of the balcony when she fell? Or was it a sign of a struggle?
    There was a massive bruise on one shin and one of her toenails was broken. He studied her arms. She woreno jewelry. Was that a faint bruise on the wrist? It was hard to tell. Again, he would need the pathologist to determine the injuries and date them.
    Her fingers bore no marks of struggle.
    He stood. All in all, a fairly nondescript body in terms of evidence. What he observed could easily be explained away if she had hit the balcony or a wall as she fell.
    He studied the balcony. It acted as a fire escape, as well, with a set of wooden stairs running diagonally across each floor of the house. Decorative wrought-iron plant hooks had been mounted on the posts at each staging. Those could certainly do some damage to the fine skin of a scalp. FIS would have to examine them to see if any trace could be found and analyze the blood spatter dotting the fire escape to see when and how the trauma had occurred.
    Sue MacLeod hurried toward him, her broad, hunched form sending gnomelike shadows across the deep yard. Ethan turned and surveyed the property. His heart sank. An extremely tall hedge enclosed the terraced garden. “Shit,” he muttered to Sue. “No one would be able to see anything through those trees.”
    â€œOr the hedges,” Sue added. The yard was extremely private, to the delight, Ethan was sure, of its owner.
    â€œCould you see any houses from up there?”