Lark Read Online Free

glared. “Where’s the body?”
    â€œIn the back.” He led the way. Tomorrow, if not this afternoon, Damon Wainwright, M.D., would have his name removed from the list of assistant medical examiners of the city of Middleburg. The chief medical examiner in Farmington must have been out on another case, as she always handled the homicides, if she could, before assigning them to one of the assistants at a local level. Nevertheless, Lark knew she would be the one to perform the autopsy.
    They reached the body and Wainwright stood looking down at it silently for a moment. “Anything touched?”
    â€œI haven’t even been through the clothing for an ID.”
    â€œDammit,” Wainwright said as he continued looking down at the corpse.
    â€œIs she dead, Doctor?” Lark asked ingenuously. He was almost enjoying the pompous doctor’s discomfort and wondered how long it was going to take this ass to realize that he had no choice but to kneel his pin-striped knee on the dirty ground next to the body.
    â€œPeople with bullet wounds in the cranium are usually dead.”
    Lark nodded. “I guess you’re right. You are going to examine her?” He had a canvas drop cloth in the truck, but he’d be damned if he would get it for this unpleasant man.
    A police sergeant arrived and immediately began snapping a series of pictures at different angles of the body and its location.
    Dr. Wainwright gave a sigh of resignation and dropped to his knees next to the body. He spoke in a monotone. “It would appear to be a bullet entrance wound at the rear of the cranium. I see no exit wound. Putrefaction has occurred to a minor extent, which means that she has been dead for over twenty-four hours. Rigor mortis is present and all extremities are rigid. There is lividity and algor mortis or cooling.” He stood up, brushed his hands, and stared sadly down at his stained knees. “That’s all I can say at this point. I would suggest a homicide.”
    â€œConsidering that shooting yourself in the back of the head is very difficult, I tend to agree,” Lark said as he squatted by the corpse. He carefully went through the jean pockets and even slipped a finger into the small blouse pocket, but they were all empty. He ground his teeth. “I guess we have a Jane Doe, there’s no ID of any sort.”
    â€œCan I go now, Lieutenant?” Wainwright asked in mock formality.
    â€œThanks for coming, Doc.”
    â€œI’m getting off the list, they don’t pay enough,” Wainwright said as he spun on his heel and strode toward the Mercedes.
    â€œWant to take a guess as to how long she’s been here?” Lark called after the retreating doctor.
    â€œBetween twenty-four and forty-eight hours,” Wainwright said without turning.
    Lark slipped acetate evidence bags over the small hands of the victim and secured them with rubber bands at the wrists. It was important that the hands not be further contaminated, as the medical examiner’s office would need to make prints and also take scrapings from under the fingernails in a search for bits of flesh or fabric.
    A semblance of frenzied order began to replace chaos. Officers who had completed their house-to-house interviews reported back to Lark. All reports were negative. No one in the immediate area had heard any shouts, screams, or shots during the past several days.
    A maze of thin white rope began to grid the crime scene and the wooded area between the yard and highway. These uneven squares were set out in ten-meter groupings and would be diagramed on a master control sheet and minutely searched by officers. The location of any discovered evidence could be accurately charted on the master sheet before being bagged.
    Lark stood near the body as the paramedics lifted the childlike form into the rubber body bag and levered it on the wheeled stretcher. They awkwardly maneuvered across the rear yard to the open