Mark’s eyebrow’s scrunched together. “No. I checked his heart, to confirm the cause of death. His manner of death did not give any reason to look into his other organs beyond a survey to verify that he was otherwise in excellent health.”
Reis muttered something under his breath. “Then go through them now. I need you to establish a proper timeline, Dr. Fell. I need to know how long he had been here for before his death.”
Mark bit back a despairing laugh. “And how do you propose I do that, Agent Reis? I cannot see any way his internal organs could possibly tell me about the length of time he had been back over the border.”
“There must be some lead you can give me, damn it!”
Mark sighed. “I can confirm that the knife used for this murder is the same one that took Henry Kay’s life.”
Reis’s honey-colored eyes snapped up to his again. “What?”
“Blades usually have microscopic defects, even when brand new—traces leftover from how and when they were made. Over time and with use, other distinctive marks might appear, such as knicks and dents. When…”
“Get to the point already, Dr. Fell,” barked Agent Reis.
“I went back over Henry Kay’s report, just like you asked. My predecessor noted damage to the heart muscle along the incision. I noted the exact same damage to this victim. Three of the five things noted are manufacture marks, meaning as the blade was likely bulk cast in a factory, all blades from the same batch would have those marks. The final two are unique. One would be a dent, often caused when a blade hits something solid. The other is a type of scratching, again likely caused by contact with something hard. Both defects are usually found on butcher’s instruments.”
“Butchers?”
Mark nodded, feeling the same wave of grim realization wash over him again as it had when he had first made the find before he’d even looked back into Henry Kay’s file. “Butcher’s blades routinely get damaged by the bones in the meat they cut. On the blade in question, which seems to be a hunting knife judging from the radius of the wounds, the gouges are all in the same location, and relatively deep.”
“I can tell from your tone that that is supposed to mean something to me.”
Mark smothered a smile. “It means that they were caused by repetitive motion,” he said, then elaborated when Reis still looked blank. “It means that someone was learning their trade, learning to stab upwards, under the sternum and directly into the heart. There were no flakes left from the knife, showing me that the damage is relatively old. My predecessor found none either, meaning the skill had already been learned by then.”
“Okay. So you’re telling me that there should have been a lot more than just two bodies found with stab wounds directly to the heart?”
Mark gave a grim nod. “Yes. Also, I’m not sure how many people we are looking for.”
Reis raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”
“The learning marks. There are two different patterns. One leftward leaning, one rightward.”
Reis frowned. “Couldn’t the same perp merely have been learning to use the blade effectively in both hands?”
Mark shrugged. “I suppose we can’t discount that possibility. There’s no real way to determine the age of the marks without the actual object.”
Reis sighed and shook his head. “I want you to run a blood screen on Agent Monterra. Look for these substances specifically, but do a wide sweep anyway.”
Mark took the offered paper and nodded. “I’ll have this to you by the end of the day.”
Reis raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I guess there is an upside to being in a one pony town. You have plenty of time to devote to this.”
****
Agent Reis stepped into the house he and Agent Boone were occupying while they were investigating Carlos’ death. Gabriella looked up as he entered the dining room turned ops base. Her long white-blonde hair had been pulled up into a messy ponytail and her deep blue eyes had dark circles under them, telling of her desire to have this case over with quickly.
“Did the good doctor tell you anything useful?” she asked as he clicked the coffee machine on.
“Looks like it might be the same perp, or at least the same weapon.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You sound surprised. Wasn’t that our suspicion all along? I mean, we know Grey didn’t kill Henry Kay, so the fact that the real murderer is still around shouldn’t surprise anyone.”
Reis sighed. “What surprises me is that the FBI didn’t act when Grey was taking the fall. I want to know what he had been sent here to do and why it meant they couldn’t just step in and tell the police force they had the wrong man.”
Gaby nodded. “Ask. Worst is the higher-ups will tell you no.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re Daniel Reis, prodigy student of the infamous Hyde. You can get away with far more than I can.”
Reis snorted but didn’t argue the point; she was right after all. “Fine. In the meantime, what have you found?”
Gaby sighed. “Not much, I’m afraid.”
He poured his coffee and came to look down at her notes—transcriptions of the key points from their questioning of the Kay sisters, Frank Connor and Mark Fell.
“Well?”
Gaby seemed to swallow a laugh at his impatience. “Well, the Connor family and the Kay family used to be the same family, four generations ago. Now’s there’s a lot of bad blood there from three generations ago. Looks like the Kays tried to stop the Connors secretly patrolling the fence at night and taking shots at anyone who came within range.”
Agent Reis shook his head. “Okay. So Rosa Kay and Frank Connor’s disagreement can be traced back to a
