Salvation

Salvation #8

"What've you got for me Michael?" Marissa asks, striding swiftly into the autopsy room. A shudder ripples across her spine, reaching out over her shoulders. Her gaze flickers over the bones placed neatly over the examination table.

They're arranged in their broken bodies, disconnected from each other and shattered into shards of bone.

Blinding, silvery lights beam down on them. The fluorescent lights cast shadows across Marissa's face. Her mouth pulls into a tight line.

"Besides a lot of dusty old bones and dead bodies?" Michael sighs. His hazel eyes flash over the table before meeting Marissa's. "Besides the obvious, yes," a sober tone dries her voice. Michael draws in a deep breath, tugging the blue gloves further over his wrists.

"Well there's four skulls which means we're dealing with at least four bodies," Michael says. Gently he picks up one of the skulls, making Marissa shiver. "Most of the bones are in pretty bad condition which suggests the victims were beaten before they were killed."

"Great," Marissa mutters bitterly.

"From what I can gather all of the victims were female," Michael sighs. "This one here had her jaw shattered which suggest a pretty brutal beating," Michael runs his gloved finger along the crumbling jaw. He sit's the skull back down with it's disjointed body.

"Her leg was broken in three places. And this girl over here had four ribs broken and another two cracked," Michael waves his hand over another, slightly smaller body.

"Christ," Marissa gasps, shaking her head. "Were they all beaten like this?" she asks.

Michael nods, "From what I can gather."

"Is there anything consistent?" she frowns.

"I could only find one thing that they all have," Michael murmurs.

He lifts up a skeletal hand and points to a jagged hole driven through the centre of the palm. "Stigmata," Michael says.

"What?" confusion creases Marissa's forehead, "Sorry Michael but you'll have to explain."

"Stigmata are wounds similar to those that were inflicted on Jesus Christ when he was hung on the cross. It's were the nails went through His hands and feet," Michael explains.

"So they were crucified?" Marissa murmurs.

"I'm not sure but that's what it looks like," Michael breathes.

A sickening feeling knots inside Marissa's stomach, rising inside her chest. "Do we know who any of the victims are?" Marissa says, swallowing the nausea.

 "So far we only know two," Michael leans against the examination table and tilts his head toward the only full skeleton. "Lilly Cross. She went missing about a year ago from somewhere near the Queensland border."

"That's a long way," Marissa mutters.

Her lips pull tight at the corners. Michael nods, "The second one is Janine Hice. She disappeared six years ago from northern Sydney."

"How old were they?" Marissa desperately tries to kill the frail tone that slips into her voice. She swiftly composes herself. "Lilly was sixteen and Janine was eighteen."

"Crap," Marissa mumbles, pressing her fingers against her temples.

"Looks like you've got quite a case," Michael mutters, straightening.

"Are you thinking serial killer?" Marissa arcs an eyebrow.

"I'm thinking one hell of a bastard," Michael mumbles.