Less Than a Moment by Steven F. Havill

Author:Steven F. Havill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2019-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

For a methodical fifteen minutes, Francis Guzman sorted through the scene of Kyle Thompson’s death without saying a word, and Estelle didn’t interrupt him. “Most likely four or five hours,” he said finally. “What time did you arrive?”

“Five thirty seven. Miller called it in right at four thirty.”

He glanced at his own watch, pushing in the little control button to light the dial. “And it’s going on seven thirty now. So.” He knelt once more while balancing carefully, then reached out to turn the victim’s head a little. “Linda?”

“Sir?”

“You have all the original position photos you need? We want to turn him over.”

“I have a plethora.”

“That’s always good.” Dr. Guzman moved the corpse’s left arm, now awkwardly stiff, so that it lay close to the torso. “Okay. Querida, you want to work his feet?” Together, they gently rolled Kyle Thompson onto his back. For a long moment, the physician stood silently, regarding the corpse, the evening shade of the rocks illuminated now in the twin arc lights whose cords ran down the boulders from the small generator on top. Then he knelt again, methodically examining the facial damage. He finally snapped the flashlight closed and stood up.

“He hit hard enough to cave in just about the most difficult part of the skull to damage,” he said. “Really, really hard.” His right hand went up to his own skull as if in sympathy. “No other wounds obvious. The lack of gravel or whatever crunched into the palms of his hands tells me that he led with his head, which is kinda strange. And no torn clothing, scuffed elbows or knees or broken skeletal bones that are obvious, so he didn’t just tumble down the rocks.” He turned and looked at Estelle. “Autopsy’s going to be interesting.”

An hour later, with the canyon’s light sinking into darkness and the arc lights dazzling harshly among the rocks and boulders, Estelle followed the gurney bearing Kyle Thompson’s body up the narrow trail to the ambulance parked immediately behind the Subaru. She spoke briefly to Deputy Luke Miller, then walked the hundred yards or so back to the county road.

Lydia Thompson sat on the tailgate sill of her Explorer, kept company by Captain Jackie Taber. The dome light of the vehicle haloed Lydia’s tousled blond hair, now out of its ponytail and hanging down on either side of her face.

“Let me give you some time alone,” Jackie said, and Estelle nodded her thanks.

“Lydia, your husband’s body will be taken to the hospital now. There will be an autopsy tomorrow. I don’t know exactly what time.” The young woman nodded dully without looking up, her hands working to compress a wad of facial tissue into a tiny ball. “Dr. Guzman believes that your husband died sometime early this afternoon, perhaps as early as noon.”

Lydia almost managed a weak laugh as she looked up at Estelle. “Is that what you call him at home? Dr. Guzman?”

“Only when I’m trying to get his attention.”

“And then he responds by calling you sheriff?”

“Never.

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