“Correct,” Harris says.

Coblentz meets my gaze. “These tooth marks, carved into those three large bones, occurred shortly before or shortly after death.”

“Are you telling me this individual may have died because of those tooth marks?” I ask.

“I’m telling you it’s a possibility,” Harris says.

I look down at the bones, and the chill that had been hovering moves through me. “So this decedent could have been attacked by an animal and killed?”

“An animal or animals as yet unidentified,” Harris tells me.

“Could that have occurred in the crawl space beneath the barn?” I ask. “Maybe he was working on the foundation and a coyote or dog attacked him? Or was he killed elsewhere and his remains moved and hidden in that crawl space?”

“We have no way of knowing for certain,” Doc Coblentz says.

“And, of course, we don’t yet know which species of animal,” Harris points out.

I stare at him, searching my memory for someone I’ve come in contact with over the years who might be able to identify the tooth marks, but I come up blank. “Do either of you know of someone who might be able to identify the tooth marks?” I ask. “If that was the cause of death, I need to know.”

Harris nods. “I worked with a guy over at the Columbus Zoo six or seven years ago. I’d performed an autopsy on a Franklin County man who’d been keeping a cougar illegally on his property and was mauled to death when he went into the animal’s pen to feed it. Nelson Woodburn’s specialty is wildlife biology. If anyone can figure out the source of those teeth marks, Woodburn can.”

I address Doc Coblentz: “Can you forward images of those tooth marks to Woodburn?”

“Right away.”

Harris looks excited by the prospect of involving his colleague. “I’ll let him know to expect your call.” He grins. “Nelson can’t resist a good mystery.”

I think about everything I’ve learned and realize that while it’s crucial to determine the source of the tooth marks, there’s still a possibility that foul play was involved. “So if those pieces of fabric or plastic found on scene turn out to be a garbage bag, then it’s possible that while our victim may have been attacked by an as-yet-unknown animal, his body may have still been put into some type of bag and dumped in that crawl space.”

“Bag aside, perhaps he was attacked and injured and crawled beneath the barn, trying to reach safety,” Doc offers.

I nod, realizing that while I know a lot more about this victim than when I started, the list of things I don’t know is much longer. “I guess I’d been hoping this guy had been working on the foundation or repairing a squeaky floor plank in the barn and had a heart attack or something.”

“Unfortunately,” Harris says with a sigh. “I suspect this individual suffered a much more horrific demise.”

CHAPTER 9

Herb and Marie Strackbein live in a small Victorian that’s painted a cheery yellow and set among mature maple and black walnut trees. According to the Holmes County auditor, they’ve owned the property on Gellerman Road since inheriting it when his mother passed away in 1978. The Strackbeins are in their sixties and live in Painters Mill.