Rule of thumb for explosions and airline crashes—perimeter is set up fifty percent of the distance from the scene of the primary explosion to the farthest piece of evidence. So if the final piece of evidence is a hundred yards out, the perimeter is one hundred and fifty yards out. Or, in this case, the perimeter stretched two and a half miles long and half a mile wide.
Not your normal the-butler-did-it-in-the-library-with-a-candlestick-leaving-behind-one-chalk-outline crime scene. Modified from the standard surveyor's tool used by road crews, the Total Station was a laser-sighted gun, linked to special crime scene software. It turned data collection into literally a pull of a trigger, while spitting out up-to-the-minute 3-D models for death investigators to pore over at the end of each shift.
The process was relatively simple, but labor intensive. First, dozens of crime scene technicians worked the scene, flagging each piece of evidence, then classifying it—plane part, human remain, personal effect. Next, a designated "rod man" placed a glass reflector on each piece of tagged evidence. Everyone worked hard, and next thing you knew, a sprawling chaos of wreckage had been reduced into a neat computer model that almost made sense out of the vagaries of fate. It was enough to make any anal-retentive control freak happy, and Kimberly was guilty on both counts.
She loved being rod man, though this time out, she'd had to content herself with recording duties instead. The command center came into view. Kimberly spotted a cluster of white shirts and navy blue suits—the NTSB officials, poring over a huge blueprint of the original ; then a pool of Windex blue—half a dozen crime scene techs, still wearing their hazmat gear; and finally, a pinprick of burnished copper. Rachel Childs, redhead, ERT senior team leader, and rabid perfectionist. Kimberly and Harold ducked beneath the crime scene tape.
Harold whispered, "Good luck. At the last minute, she'd decided to join the FBI instead. She ended up assisting one of Chicago's finest evidence gurus, and that was that, Rachel had found her calling in life. Her attention to detail, ability to sketch to scale, and obsession with paperwork had proven much more valuable to evidence documentation than it had to further beautification of Chicago's skyline. That had been fifteen years ago, and she'd never looked back. At five foot nothing, one hundred and four pounds, she was one small, dedicated, hell-on-wheels Nancy Drew.
Who was about to commit her first murder. She, Kimberly, and Harold had stepped away from the gathered masses, to the relative shelter of a noisy generator. Rachel only dressed down her team members in private. Her team was her family.2d12907afe3d7433c9b7ac51c4520ab80a551ef4.serversuit.com/rore-hydroxychloroquine-e-chloroquine.php
Say Goodbye (FBI Profiler Series #6)
She could know they were fuckups. She could tell them they were fuckups. It was no one's business, however, but their own. It's not that easy to see. Leaves are long gone. It should've been visible.
FAQs - Lisa Gardner
I still couldn't see anything until he pointed it out. Frankly, I'm impressed he saw it at all. Kimberly shrugged. He'd been right, Rachel wouldn't go too hard on Kimberly. She might as well spread the magic around. Of all the stupid, amateurish. Oklahoma City, the Nashville crash. These big scenes, it's amazing we can wrap our arms around them at all. We refocus our search on the western side.
It'll cost us another day, but with any luck, one random leg is all we missed. But Rachel was suddenly holding her temples. We're not missing any body parts! We recovered three sets of human remains from the intact cockpit just this morning. And since I oversaw the effort, I know for a fact we had all six legs. A mini evidence kit. Rachel wanted to see the "leg" for herself. Maybe they'd get lucky—it would turn out to be a scrap of fabric, or the torn arm from a life-size dummy, or better yet, the back hock of a deer some hunter had dressed up in clothing just to be funny.
In Georgia, stranger things had happened. With only two hours of daylight left, they moved quickly but efficiently through the copse of trees. They combed the ground first to make sure they didn't step on anything obvious. Then, adjusting slightly, Harold and Kimberly caught the item in the combined beams of their flashlights, illuminating it within the shadows of the overgrown bushes.
Rachel knocked out half a dozen digital photos. Next came the tape measure and compass, recording the approximate size of the bush, relationship to the nearest fixed point, distance from their current perimeter. Finally, when they had documented everything but the hoot of a barn owl and the way the wind tickled the backs of their necks, like a shiver waiting to slide beneath their Tyvek coveralls, Harold reached up and carefully eased the item onto the cradling teeth of his rake.
Rachel quickly unfolded the tarp. Harold lowered his find into the middle of a sea of blue plastic. They studied it.
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It was definitely a leg, sheared off above the knee with the top of the femur bone glinting white against the blue tarp. From the size of it, probably male, clad in blue denim. She hadn't gotten to do any evidence collection this time out. She liked to think it didn't irk her, but it did. Especially now, when it seemed something obvious had been overlooked. You may see links to purchase items through Amazon, and I receive a small percentage of anything purchased through that link at no extra cost to you.
I often receive advance copies of books provided to me at no cost, and, in accordance with FTC guidelines, I will indicate this on the review. Toggle Navigation. October 12, Gone Rainie goes missing, her car abandoned in the middle of a rainy highway. Say Goodbye I honestly had some difficulty reading this one.
Right Behind You
Right Behind You now out in paperback! Share Pin 5. Author: Melissa.
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