“Over here.”

Susan fetched paperwork from a countertop. I began flipping through charts, concentrating particularly on emergency room records and the report filled in by the rescue squad. Nowhere did it indicate that Eddie Heath’s hands had been bound. I tried to remember what Detective Trent had said to me when describing the scene where the boy’s body had been found. Hadn’t Trent said that Eddie’s hands were by his sides? “You find something?”

Susan finally asked.

“You have to look through the lens to see. There. The undersides of his wrists and here on the left one, to the left of the wrist bone. You see the gummy residue? The traces of adhesive? It looks like smudges of grayish dirt.”

“Just barely. And maybe some fibers sticking to it,” Susan marveled, her shoulder pressed against mine as slue stared through the lens.

“And the skin’s smooth,” I continued to point out. “Less hair in this area than here and here.”

“Because when the tape was removed, hairs would have been pulled out.”

“Exactly. We’ll take wrist hairs for exemplars. The adhesive and fibers can be matched back to the tape, if the tape is ever recovered. And if the tape that bound him is recovered, it can be matched back to the roll.”

“I don’t understand.”

She straightened up and looked at me. “His IV lines were held in place with adhesive tape. You sure that’s not the explanation?”

“There are no needle marks on these areas of his wrists that would indicate marks of therapy,” I said to her. “And you saw what was taped to him when he came in. Nothing to account for the adhesive here.”

“True.”

“Let’s take photographs and then I’m going to collect this adhesive residue and let Trace see what they find.”

“His body was outside next to a Dumpster. Seems like that would be a Trace nightmare.”

“It depends on whether this residue on his wrists was in contact with the pavement.”

I began gently scraping the residue off with a scalpel.

“I don’t guess they did a vacuuming out there.”

“No, I’m sure they wouldn’t have. But I think we can still get sweepings if we ask nicely. It can’t hurt to try.”

I continued examining Eddie Heath’s thin forearms and wrists, looking for contusions or abrasions I might have missed. But I did not find any.

“His ankles look okay,” Susan said from the far end of the table. “I don’t see any adhesive or areas where the hair is gone. No injuries. It doesn’t look like he was taped around his ankles. just his wrists.”

I could recall only a few cases in which a victim’s tight bindings had left no mark on skin. Clearly, the strapping tape, had been in direct contact with Eddies skin. He should have moved his hands, wriggled as his discomfort had grown and his circulation had been restricted. But he had not resisted. He had not tugged or squirmed or tried to get away.