“I’ve done the autopsy of your Jane Doe. It’s taken me several days to write up the report, and I apologize for the delay.” To Dr. McIntyre’s credit, she cared about all the bodies she examined, even the ones without names.

“Any idea of the cause of death? We’re all assuming asphyxiation on this end.” Jordan picked up a pencil and began to draw more circles.

“As you know, the decomposition is advanced, so much of the soft-tissue evidence has been lost. But X-rays did not show any broken bones, and the U-shaped hyoid bone, often fractured during strangulation, is intact. There was a hairline fracture on the back of her skull. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it would have knocked her out.”

Dr. McIntyre continued, “After we stripped off the outer-layer wrapping, as you said, we found a plastic bag around her head. There was a drawstring, and it was cinched pretty tight. My guess is that’s what killed her.”

“Any identifying marks on the body?”

“Three tattoos, including a bird, the name Billy, and a cross. She was also wearing a crescent moon necklace. Small and delicate.”

Jordan scribbled notes into her case notebook. “What about sexual assault?” she asked.

“The vaginal tissue was fairly degraded, but I did find the presence of semen. It’s also not in great shape, so I doubt there’ll be any viable DNA. But she did have sex shortly before she died.” Papers flipped in the background. “Her stomach was nearly empty. I doubt she’d eaten that day.”

“What about ethnicity and age?”

“White female in her late teens or early twenties. She was about five foot two, and she had blond hair, which does not appear natural.”

Not a lot, but now she had details to share when she called the missing person department.

“I also ran a toxicology test,” Dr. McIntyre said. “I’m still waiting on the results. They should be back soon, but it appears she had track marks on her arms.”

“If she’s been arrested, there’s a chance her DNA is on file.”

“Agreed. We’ll send it all to your forensic department.”

“It’s a start.”

“Good luck, Detective. Keep me posted on any arrests.”

“Will do, Dr. McIntyre.”

Jordan hung up the phone and immediately dialed the missing person department.

“Detective Rivers,” a woman said unhurriedly after three rings. Detective Marla Rivers was a transplant from Florida, newly divorced, in her early thirties, and good at her job.

“Detective Rivers, this is Jordan Poe with Austin Police. I work homicide.”

“Right. Haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

“Been busy.”

“How’s the homicide department?”

“Can’t complain.” Jordan was making a name for herself and did not hide her ambition to rise up the chain. “Have you heard about the Jane Doe found two weeks ago wrapped in plastic?”

“Sure. You identify her?”