The doctor led Quinn and Nate to a drawer at the far end of the room. 'You've had burn victims here before?' Quinn asked. 'A few,' the doctor said. 'And if you ask me, I can wait awhile until the next one. It's not pretty.'
Without asking if his visitors were ready, the doctor pulled open the drawer. The body, or what was left of it, lay uncovered on the long tray. It was a charred mass of flesh. Quinn didn't even flinch at the sight of it, but Nate turned away, gagging.
'You okay?' the doctor asked.
'It's his first time,' Quinn said.
'I'm okay,' Nate said, clearly not looking at it.
'Maybe you want to step outside for a minute,' Horner said. Nate shook his head and resumed his spot beside the doctor as Quinn took a look at the body.
Taggert was lying on his back, his arms and legs bent upward in the pugilistic posture caused by shrinking tissue common to most burn victims. In some areas the flesh was completely burned away. Elsewhere the skin was sunken where the muscles and organs had cooked and contracted.
'Asphyxiation?' Quinn asked.
The doctor hesitated. 'Actually, no.'
Quinn looked over at Horner. 'No?'
'There appeared to be very little smoke damage to his lungs. I've sent some tissue off to the lab in Denver to be sure.'
Quinn made a mental note. That was one sample that needed to get lost. 'If he didn't die of the smoke, then what?'
The coroner shrugged. 'My best guess is that when he realized there was a fire, he panicked, tripped, and hit his head on something. Maybe a bedpost or a nightstand.'
'Was there damage to his skull?' Nate asked. Quinn shot his apprentice a quick look, but said nothing.
'Some,' the doctor said. 'Which could have happened after the house collapsed. But that's doubtful.'
'Why?' Quinn asked.
'There was a lot of blood loss that occurred around the wound,' Horner said. 'Since his lungs seemed clean, I'm pretty sure by the time the house fell apart, Mr. Taggert here was already dead.'
'You don't find that unusual?'
'Not really,' the doctor said. 'Given the circumstances, I mean. He was probably terrified. The house was burning up around him. Most people make mistakes under that kind of pressure.' Horner looked at Quinn for a moment. 'If you're really asking if someone else did this to him, I guess it's possible, but unlikely. Frankly, Agent Bennett, that kind of thing doesn't happen here in Allyson. You've been spending too much time in big cities.'
'Sorry,' Nate said, once they were back in the Explorer driving away. 'I just couldn't help myself. I mean, it's obvious he was murdered.'
Quinn pulled the SUV to the curb and turned to Nate. 'Why?' he asked. 'The wound. That's what killed him. Someone hit him over the head.' 'So the wound tells us conclusively that he was murdered?' 'Well, sure,' Nate said, only now he didn't sound so confident. 'It couldn't have happened the way Dr. Horner said? Taggert panicked and hit his head?'
'Sure, it's possible. But it doesn't seem likely.'
Quinn stared at Nate for a moment, then looked back out the front window and put the Explorer back in gear. 'What?' Nate asked.
Quinn said nothing. Taggert had indeed been murdered, and the evidence had been right there in front of them at the morgue. But it wasn't the blow to the head that had led Quinn to this conclusion.
Quinn had known what happened the moment he'd seen the body. Taking the contractions in the arms and legs caused by the heat into account, the fire had frozen Taggert in the position he'd been in when the flames consumed him. If he'd died of smoke inhalation, the body would have been curled up in an obvious defensive posture. Even if he died from a head trauma, it was unlikely that his body would have landed so neatly laid out.
No, Quinn knew someone had posed him like this. Someone had wanted the Office to know this was a murder.
They drove across town, eventually parking in a lot just off Lake Avenue. Quinn was relieved to see the 'Open' sign hanging in the window.
He looked over at Nate. 'You stay here.' There was no protest. Quinn zipped up his jacket and got out.
The building was an old, one-story house that had been converted into an office. Hanging on the wall near the front door was a sign that read, 'Goose Valley Vacation Rentals & Realty.' There was a covered porch where Quinn dusted the snow off his jacket. He then opened the door and went inside.
The front room had at one time probably made for a comfortable parlor, but now it was crowded with three desks, several bookcases, and a row of black metal filing cabinets. A radio was playing an old Neil Diamond song softly in the background. Against the far wall, a fire burned in a brick fireplace.
Only the desk closest to the fireplace was occupied. Behind it sat a woman Quinn judged to be in her mid- forties. Her blonde, frosted hair fell to just above her shoulders. She was wearing a smart-looking blue business suit. She smiled broadly as Quinn entered.
'Good afternoon,' she said, standing. 'Didn't expect anybody else today.'
Quinn offered a friendly chuckle as he approached her desk. 'Yeah, weather's getting a little crazy out there. Don't worry. I won't keep you long.'
'I heard we're in for almost two feet of snow by tomorrow.' She stuck out a hand. 'I'm Ann Henderson.'
