I scanned the area around us briefly and imagined what it would be like to be alone up here in the dead of night. Scary, desolate…and worst of all, isolated. No one would ever hear you scream. Bailey and I picked our way carefully across the river of loose rocks and mud that had streamed from the grave. As our steps brought us closer, I steeled myself for a sight that was likely to be gruesome. But nothing could have prepared me for what lay inside the crime scene tape. The body of Brian Shandling, né Maher.
As I stared at the pale, wet face, body frozen in rigor, his aunt’s words repeated in my head: “gentle soul,” “sweet boy.” Her words had fallen on cynical ears at the time. Now, I was more inclined to believe they were true. And if they were, this was yet another child who’d been ripped from the world before he even had a chance to live. I wasn’t ready to deal with the tragedy of another young death this soon. My only path of escape was to focus on the evidence.
“George, can you give me an estimate for time of death?” I asked.
“Just a very rough one. I’d say he’s been dead for about three days now.”
Three days. That would put his death very close in time to Hayley’s. We’d get a tighter frame when the autopsy was done for both of them-though, contrary to popular belief, it wouldn’t be down to the minute, or even the hour. Usually, the best a coroner can do is narrow the time of death down to a window of a few hours. Even then, an estimate as narrow as a couple of hours requires more information than a pathologist can gather on his own. For example, stomach contents can be helpful, but without certain information like a witness who can say when the victim last ate, or how fast that victim digests, or how much physical activity the victim engaged in after the meal, and so on-the coroner can’t give a precise time of death. Since no one we’d spoken to so far had seen Brian after Iris Stavros had a glimpse of him on Monday, we weren’t likely to find anyone who could say when he last ate. We’d need other information to prove conclusively that he’d died shortly before or after Hayley. I motioned for Bailey to join me and we moved outside the crime scene tape to a spot where we could talk.
“You could’ve told me who the victim was,” I said, more than a little irritated at the way I’d been blindsided.
“Sorry. It’s just that the cop wasn’t sure.” Bailey glanced at me. “It’s just…I didn’t want to jump the gun…”
