The throat had been cut deeply from ear to ear, severing gullet and trachea, separating the ivory knobs of the spinal cord, millimeters from complete decapitation. Each small breast was circled by stab wounds. The abdomen had been sliced open under the ribs on the right side, swooping down to the pelvis and back up to the left. Glossy bits of tissue peeked out from under the flap of the wound. The pubic region was an unrecognizable mass of gore.
The fire in his belly intensified. He covered the body from the neck down.
'She wasn't killed here,' he said.
Steinfeld shook his head in agreement. 'Not enough blood for that. Almost no blood at all, in fact. Looks as if she's been drained.'
'What do you mean?'
Steinfeld pointed to the wound flap. 'No blood on the body. What's visible under the wound looks pale-like a lab specimen. Drained.'
'What about semen?'
'Nothing conspicuous-we took scrapings. Levi's internal will tell you more.'
Daniel thought of the destruction that had been visited upon the genitals. 'Do you think Dr. Levi will be able to get anything from the vaginal vault?'
'You'll have to ask Dr. Levi.' Steinfeld snapped the evidence case shut.
'Someone cleaned her up thoroughly,' said Daniel, more to himself than to the techs.
'I suppose.'
There was a camera next to the case.
'You've taken your pictures?'
'All the usual ones.'
'Take some extra ones. Just in case.'
'We've already shot three rolls,' said Steinfeld.
'Shoot more,' said Daniel. 'Let's not have a repeat of the Aboutboul disaster.'
'I had nothing to do with Aboutboul,' said Steinfeld, defensively. But the look on his face bespoke more than defensiveness.
He's horrified, thought Daniel, and fighting to hide it. He softened his tone.
'I know that, Meir.'
'Some defective from Northern District on loan to the National Staff,' the technician continued to complain. 'Takes the camera and opens it in a lighted room-bye-bye evidence.'
Daniel's mind longed to be somewhere else, but he shook his head knowingly, forced himself to commiserate.
'Protekzia?'
'What else? Someone's nephew.'
'Figures.'
Steinfeld inspected the contents of his case, closed it, and wiped his hands on his pants. He glanced toward the camera, picked it up.
'How many extra rolls do you want?'
'Take two more, okay?'
'Okay.'
Daniel wrote in his note pad, rose, brushed off his trousers, and looked again at the dead girl. The static beauty of the face, the defilement? Young one, what were your final thoughts, your agonies??
'Any sand on the body?' he asked.
'Nothing,' said Avital, 'not even between the toes.'
'What about the hair?'
'No,' she said. 'I combed through it. Before that, it looked perfect-shampooed and set.' Pause. 'Why would that be?'
'A hair fetishist,' said Steinfeld. 'A freak. When you deal with freaks, anything's possible. Isn't that right, Pakad?'
'Absolutely.' Daniel said good-bye and climbed back up. Laufer was back in his Volvo, talking on the radio. His driver stood behind the barrier, chatting with Afif. The old Hagah man was still sandwiched between the two officers. Daniel caught his eye and he nodded formally, as if in salute. Daniel began walking toward him but was stopped by the deputy commander's voice.
'Sharavi.'
He turned around. Laufer had gotten out of the car and was waving him over.
'So?' the deputy commander demanded when they were face to face.
'As you said, butchery.'
