The Child in the Lab

The Truth in the Hypothesis

Jocelyn.

The dark tarp was placed tentatively on the grassy embankment, at the feet of many workers. I only recognized a few from earlier today, for the majority were unfamiliar faces. Instinctively, I stepped forward and produced a yellow latex glove from my pocket, before I was pushed back. It was Dr. Saroyan's hand on my shoulder. Look but don't touch.

Dr. Brennan stepped forward and knelt beside the tarp. She reached a steady hand out to the remains and peeled back the tarp. Underneath the first layer of nylon found she found another thin piece of plastic, and beneath that was finally the reason we were called. A waterlogged plastic crate contained what appeared to be the remains of another young woman, not unlike the first. The crate itself appeared to be a poorly sealed, blue tinted plastic box, approximately six feet by two feet; like a mock-coffin. Any flesh or organ tissue had almost completely gelatinized at the bottom of the receptacle. The bones themselves appeared to be void of all tissue, with the exception of the sinewy ligaments connecting the joints.

"Prove yourself, Jocelyn. What do you see?" Dr. Brennan inquired.

"Well, um I guess, from what is visible, I can deduce from the visible colles fracture pattern on the Scaphoid, Trapezoid, Trapezium.... And what I can see on the anterior aspect of the Pisiform, as well as the heads of both ulna and radii, I'd say that the victim fell forward, and broke the fall with their arms outstretched. Most likely accidental in an attempt to get away from the assailant."

"Explain yourself."

"Well, the fracture pattern is consistent with forward trauma at an angle of..." I mentally factored in the simple circle geometry to come up with the angle, "she fell forward at an angle of approximately sixty four degrees, which fits her height. From the measure of the tibia, we can extrapolate the height to fall within the range of one hundred and fifteen centimeters. Knowing the speed and force needed to fissure in this way, simple math would explain that the only way to obtain this force and still keep the angle of impact would be if she was running. I know it was accidental, because the other lacerations in the bone appear to be clean cut, most likely with a power saw; but these colles fractures are not clean cut."

"Is there anything else?"

"I know the victim is female because of the subtlety of the mastoid process, as well as the delicate brow ridge."

Everyone at the scene stopped and stared at me, with a look of awe plain on their faces.

"I think she out-Brennaned Brennan..." I heard someone say and I couldn't help but smile.

"May I?" I gestured towards the crate.

"Go ahead." Dr. Saroyan mentioned, much to the discontent of Dr. Brennan.

I opened the crate in unsteady fingers, fully aware of the spectators. First off, I pulled the skull carefully out of the box, and handed it to Dr. Brennan, on my left. She nodded in acknowledgement, and looked the skull over before handing it back to me.

"Well noted." She told me. I took it as a compliment.

Together, along with Dr. Saroyan, Dr. Brennan and I both examined the remains, coming to a general consensus on the age, height, and race of the victim.

The eruption of the second molars was not yet complete, leaving the age as young as ten years old. The slight stature confirmed this, and the bone structure was determined to have belonged to a pre-pubescent Caucasian female.

"The damn bastard killed another child." I let the words slip from my mouth.

"How could you conclude that they both fell victim to the same person?" Dr. Brennan tested me again.

"As always, I have reason. Notice the slight wearing of the scapula, and the stress fractures to the head of the left humerus. Meaning that both were dragged a long distance, by a tall person of average strength." I paused, "and I'd appreciate it if you stopped testing me like one of your grad students."

The clock read 6:14 AM as we pulled into the Jeffersonian loading zone. Dr. Hodgins entered through the door first, armed with an array of swabs and particulate evidence collected at the scene. These samples included a trace of oily residue obtained from the inside surface of the box. He ran towards the door, and straight to run mass spectronomy examination on it. He came up with the solution after my hypothesis. On the first victim, positively identified as Miarra Von Mast, an oily substance had been recovered from the body. If I was correct, then the two swabs might match as chemical compounds.

Seeing no way to possibly help, I followed close on the heels of Dr. Saroyan, overseeing her job. I was just about to ask her about the circumstances behind tonight's discovery, when Dr. Hodgins emerged again, holding a crumpled paper in white knuckles.

"You were right, Jocelyn! Both samples match."

We sat in silence for longer than a few moments.

"Both contained traces of Propylene Glycol, Dimethicone, Cetearyl Alcohol, Behentrimonium Methosulphate, Benzyl Benzoate, Phenoxyethanol, Caprylyl Glycol, and Blueberry fruit extract."

Both Dr. Saroyan, and Dr. Brennan looked over at him, exasperated, while I attempted to understand the components.

"Well, Cetearyl Alcohol is a fatty alcohol constituent, commonly used in skin creams, and Caprylyl Glycol is a synthetic anti-aging component, but that's all I've got."

"Well, you're close," Hodgins explained, "All of these are major ingredients of body lotion. We can assume that it's a berry scented product, from the Blueberry fruit extract."

"And you're sure that it was the same compound on both victims?"

"Yes. The unique compound proves that both came from the same mixing batch, maybe even the same bottle.

"Do you think it's from the killer?" I found myself asking.

"No, you said yourself that both victims were dragged quite a distance from a tall person. No women would be that tall, and that strong."

"But what if a guy wore that lotion?"

"Seriously, you'd honestly have to consider the fact that a man would be wearing a blueberry body lotion?"

Ms. Montenegro entered the room, dressed in uncharacteristically long sweatpants and a faded concert T-shirt; a far cry from her usual collection of sundresses. She immediately looked over to me.

"How could you even be here? I heard what happened, and you have no excuse to be alright about this." She addressed me.

"Like Dr. Brennan, I indulge myself in work as a problem avoidance mechanism." I replied.

"Well, I don't think you should be here. Maybe you're wrong about this."

"About what?" I shot back.

"Both you and Brennan said that it was dark in the house when it happened. Is there any way that you were mistaken?" Her voice trembled.

"No. No she was my sister, and I saw her. I know it was-" the idea hit me.

"And I can prove it..."