“There’s still a wallet.” said Mark holding up a tattered clump of leather. “Although it’s pretty gross, covered with decaying flesh and blood and all.” He held it up higher into the light, “I’m almost certain that this is an eyeball.” He said poking the thing that was hanging from one corner with his gloved finger. He peeled the leather apart and pulled out a card. "And we have an I.D." he said satisfied. "It looks like David Whelington or Whelsmen, Helingham maybe." He furrowed his brow and squinted at the bloody piece of plastic. After a few minutes of squinting he decided that his efforts were futile and dumped the I.D. into an evidence bag. This would be sent to the lab and deciphered by a super computer which was far better at reading illegible writing than he was. He stuck his hand back into the clump of decaying flesh and cloth, around the victim's pelvis, and was able to get samples of his pants, shirt, and some still good flesh.
"How can you touch that?" asked Matt the new guy. "I mean it's might be some guys eye AND YOU POKE IT and if that wasn't enough you stick your hand into his PELVIS why not his face or leg or something HIS PELVIS?" he said his eyes wide with disgust. His eyes went blank for a second then his voice, barely above a whisper, broke the compunction that came with the silence that had fallen over the room, "I know how he died." Matt you see could see the past. He might be squeamish but he was definitely useful at a crime scene. He actually saw what happened, so that they knew what to look for making their jobs a whole lot easier. His eyes returned to their previously blank state and he started talking in a monotone.
His name is David Whelihan otherwise known as Kyle Ray. He was a deftly famous singer, actor, all around broudwayish kind of guy. He first went missing from his home twenty years ago. The newspaper headline read "THE RAY OF KYLE RAY SNUFFED". Everyone thought he ran away from his life of stardom for a more relaxing lifestyle. In reality he had been kidnapped by a crazed fanatic. They forced him to perform private, diurnal concerts and he did so night after night hopping that one day he would be set free. He never lamented once even though they never carried a gun and it was a malignant little girl so she wasn't very intimidating but her intelligence far surpassed his. He became a recluse after months being pinioned in that room. One day he refused to perform. She didn't feed him for a week while he came to abhor him more and more. Her clout over him was now so strong that whenever she would return he would sing as long as she wanted. Each day he managed to free his hands a little more until one day he got his left hand out which enabled him to emancipate his right. He stood up and went to the door. He turned the door handle and flung the door open but there the little girl stood unheralded with her arms crossed frowning. He backed away from her slowly she matched each of his steps menacingly. With his back finally against a bulwark he sank to his knees and begged for his life. She denied his claim and threshed him with her own two fists until dead. She dragged him out of the room on a blanket so as not trail leave a trail of blood anywhere else. She dumped the body in the abandoned bovine barn across the street and returned to bleach the room. She doesn't live their any more, nobody does. The house was said to be haunted with the ghost of Kyle Ray. No one of course believes that but it has sat there abandoned for at least eight years now. I can't seem to find her name but I can see another headline. It reads "CRAZED FAN RUES MURDERING THREE ACTORS AND IS SENTENCED TO DEATH BY LETHAL INJECTION" so I assume she is either dead or about to die. I can't see anyone abetting her so she worked alone.
His eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at his partners. They had all moved closer with their arms crossed. "So the killer is already in jail?" Michaela asked the disappointment on her face clearly showing. She was one of the few forensic anthropologist who got the thrill from finally getting the murderer behind bars rather than finding the clues as he colleagues did.
"Seems that way." Matt answered and he shrugged which showed he could be of no further assistance.
Mark cleared his throat, "We should bring him back to the coroner so that he can have a proper burial for his family." All four of them went around and got all the things necessary to move the body and let the rest of their team pack everything up. Michaela and Marisol moved the remains into a body bag. Mark and Matt placed the body bag on a gurney and pushed it out to the coroners van. Michaela gave the ok on the whole site and closed the back door to the van. The four of them stood together and watched the van pull away before they dispersed into their separate cars and drove off into the sunset back towards Springfield and their homes and families.
