Chapter Twenty-Seven.

"A woman out walking her dog down this path found the body this morning. She called it in as soon as she could get to a phone, she said her cell didn't work here so she had to find a house."

Detective Allen looked up the road. There was a mailbox up where the road went around a curve; he figured that was probably the closest dwelling to this hidden drive. He turned to walk down the narrow road down through the trees. It was about one hundred yards from Skyline, curving down and to the left. There was yellow tape strung around the trees, circling the body. There were the technicians, leaving the tent shaped markers and picking up bits and pieces, putting them into envelopes and paper bags.

He walked up to the charred body; the main part of the torso was blackened and wet from the past evening's rain. The face was obliterated by fire as well; he could see the teeth and parts of the skull. The arms and legs were burned as well, but the hands and feet were nearly untouched. That was good thing; they would be able to get the prints fairly easily.

The body looked strange, almost like a shell, the abdomen was collapsed and bowl shaped. He looked away, through the woods. Something caught his eye a few feet away, and he walked toward the base of a tree several feet past the small clearing. There was a box of nails sitting open. He called one of the techs over to mark it.

After spending several hours at the site, he finally left to go back to his office. There were several messages waiting there for him, and he spent the first hour returning calls and leaving his own messages.

He went through a drive thru on his way out to Clackamas to meet with the medical examiner. He had questions about the body they picked up that morning and wanted to be there for the autopsy.

The procedure had already started by the time he arrived. The doctor was speaking into the recorder as Allen walked in; he looked up but continued talking into the microphone hanging above the table. The pathology assistant was drawing blood and other fluids from the body, and taking notes as well.

"We have a bit of a problem here," the ME said. "We don't have any internal organs. Look here," he was pointing toward the bottom of the torso.

Jacob looked over where the finger was aimed. He thought what he was looking at was the intestines. "Now look here," he said, moving his finger. The rib bones had been mostly burned away, but even he could see that there wasn't anything in there.

"It will take some time to determine the cause of death, but I can tell you right now, she was already dead when she was burned," the examiner told the detective, "Right now, it looks like some kind of accelerant was poured into the body cavity after the organs were removed."

"Now look here," he said, holding up an arm near the wrist, "She was tied with something at one point." He set the arm down and walked down to the end of the table where her feet and ankles were. "See, the marks are here as well.'

Allen waited and watched through the rest of the autopsy, listening as the findings were reported. He would have to run home and shower before heading to the gym this afternoon, the smell permeated through the clothing and into his skin.

Leaving the Multnomah County Medical Offices in Clackamas, he drove up 224 west toward his home. It was a short drive, just over ten minutes before he was pulling into his driveway.

Inside, he went into his room, and emptied his pockets out on the top of the dresser. Stripping his clothes off, he went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He pulled the shower curtain aside to step over the edge of the tub and under the hot streaming water.

He scrubbed his body roughly, single-minded in his resolve to remove the autopsy smell. He quickly shampooed his hair as well, and then stood under the water for several minutes to relax the muscles in his back.

Dressing in his workout clothes, he put a spare set of clothing into a gym bag to take with him. Putting his wallet and other items into a pocket of the bag, he picked up his keys and headed back across the river to get to the fitness club he had joined.

While he lifted the weights, his mind kept going over his cases. He was sure they were close now; the only thing was trying to put all the pieces together in some kind of cohesive order. The forensic psychologist had left a report on his desk earlier, they had a fairly workable profile now, plus with Dana's help, they now knew one of his routines.

He seemed to be changing his methods now, more frequently. He had grown tired of the stabbing, or perhaps it had just gotten too messy for him. The profile said he was an organized killer as opposed to disorganized. Those were the smarter ones, with above average intelligence.

Jacob considered the methods that were being used. Stabbing someone usually required close physical contact, but it would also fulfill some kind of psychological need.

He stopped thinking for now, letting his subconscious work on the details. He focused on the weights and the stretching of his muscles, knowing how sore he would be in a few hours.

He also needed to call Dana.