Acrylic Bones

The body lies calmly on the hardwood table, restraints wrapped around the wrists and ankles. Anyone else might have questioned the need for such restraints. After all, the girl's body had been cold and motionless for days. But Dakota Myres knew better. Her fingers traced slow lines across the girl's skin, flattening and stretching it as needed. One brown eye was magnified through the lens of her telescope. Through the glass tube, she could see every inch of the girl's body in exquisite detail. Every curve in her vanilla skin looked like a hill, every edge of her limbs a road to be studied and memorized. As revolting as the job was, Dakota couldn't help but be interested. The girl's body was still in the state it had been in the forest. It makes the job far more gruesome, but she wasn't willing to erase possible evidence by washing it, even with a sponge.

Taking a deep breath, Dakota glances at the corpse face. Her eyes are deep brown, and glassy. They stare sightlessly at the stucco ceiling high above. Her lips, slightly parted, gives the face an effect of looking horrified and stunned. As if it couldn't believe it was dead.

"Sorry, girl." she whispers, reaching up and grabbing one of the girl's hairs just above her temple. "So much for the latest styles, huh."

With a quick, jerking motion, she pulled the hair free and lay it on the table in front of her. There was a lot of evidence that could be picked up through a hair sample. Especially one with the root attached. Keratin, the almost chalk-like condensed protein that made up hair, held all kinds of stories long after a person thought they had erased all signs of it.

Dakota swung the telescope around, zooming in on the curled hair until she could see every growth segment which made up the almost foot long silky strand.

"Not dyed," she whispers, raising her eyebrows slightly, "cute colour for a natural. No trace of poisons. No traces of gunpowder, so no weapon was used. Slight traces of cocaine residue ... mostly likely not ingested." Dakota smirked slightly. "Don't worry girl, your friend's secrets are safe with me." looking more closely through the telescope, her eyebrows suddenly lowered.

"Holy shit." she whispered, leaning closer to the eye of the lens. "I didn't want to believe it."

Straightening from the table, the woman pulls her brown leather jacket off the peg by the foot of the stairs and takes them two at a time. Pausing at the top for a moment, she shrugs slightly and pulls a key from her pocket. The basement door clicks as she locks it shut. The body didn't show any of the usual signs, but that wouldn't stop her from being careful. Striding out the front door and slamming it behind her, Dakota jogged to her vehicle and pulled open the drivers-side door, falling into the seat comfortably. Her car engine hums as she reverses out of her gravel driveway and begins the trip into town.

The morning sunlight filters through the windows, falling on her copper skin and warming her entire body pleasantly. Dakota tilts her head back as she drives, her deep chocolate eyes scanning the road ahead of her. The sky above was clear and blue, with only wispy traces of whipped-cream clouds floating quickly from horizon to horizon. Fields spread out in both directions beside her, and a combine slowly ploughed through one of them. Another day for another farmer, she thought quickly.

At twenty-five years old, she often thinks she is too young to be where she is. Detective, investigative authority, doctor, exorcist, and barely more than a teenager. She looks it, too. Her dark skin is flawless, with no signs of ageing. Her voice is raspy, but still holds the pleasant highness of youth. Only her eyes give it away; silent, sombre eyes that have seen too much.

The houses appear seemingly from nowhere. Fields one moment, and a 'Welcome to Acrylic' sign the next. And then she is driving between the houses, their painted-wood slats rising on all sides of her against the pastel blue sky. The sandy pink brick pleasant on the eyes.

Acrylic is a good town, she thinks suddenly. If not for her business here, it might be a nice place to live. It was both friendly and quiet, withdrawn and outgoing. For all it's solitude, it had an active air. A very nice place to live indeed, she thinks.

Slowing to a crawl and gently letting the steering wheel spin through her fingers, Dakota pulls into the Acrylic Creek Police Department parking lot and parks in one of the spots that says 'reserved'. Stepping out of the vehicle, she turns towards the front door of the station and pulls her wavy hair back over one shoulder. Her eyes are determined as she strides towards the building and pulls open the front door. Without stopping to glance at the secretary, she strides down the dimly-lit hallway and takes the first door on her left. It opens into another hallway. She finds what she is looking for at the very end of the hall, exactly where she knew it to be.

'Chief Examiner' the small copper plaque on the door reads. She smooths both hands down the front of her knee-length leather jacket and knocks twice, quickly. Her knuckles ring on the sturdy wood, sounding without an echo.

"Come in." a voice from within calls. It is deep and resonant, reverberating even muffled as it was by the thick oaken door.

Gripping the steel handle in one hand, Dakota gives it a quick turn and enters the office, letting the door click closed behind her. Inside, the room is brightly lit, even without any windows. An enormous man sits behind a wooden desk, his head raised from the file he had obviously been reading through. His chin and cheeks are almost completely covered by a thick black beard, which comes down just past his neck. His dark brown eyes, already sombre, seem to darken as he sees her.

"Is it a good morning, Doctor Myres?" he asks, his powerful voice both calming and impressive.

"I have new evidence," she said, cutting straight to the point, "but it's circumstantial at best. Incriminating at worse. Before I even begin to rule into any hypothesis, I need to take a look at the other body."

"The body was buried last night." the man said, shaking his head sadly. "The Glensk Grove cemetery, just to the west of town. I attended the funeral myself."

"Noble of you." she said dryly. "Specifically, I need a hair sample. I assume you collected at least one in your examination of the body?"

"We did." he said. His voice was thunderous, even low as it was. "Unfortunately, I cannot release those samples without permission. Her parents have expressly forbade it." he held up one hand to stop her from interrupting. "Yes, doctor - not even you are above the law."

"Where do her parents live?" Dakota asks, her brown eyes fierce. "May I speak with them?"

"Doctor." the man said, rising from his desk. Standing, her towered over her. She refused to be intimidated, tilting her head back slightly to look him in the eye. "They have made their decision. I cannot overrule it, and you cannot change it. Let it go, and continue with what other evidence you can gather. I can provide what records we managed to obtain from the crime scene."

"Oh for fucks sake!" she scoffed, "I have those records! They don't include an intact hair sample, and that's what I need."

The man hesitated for a moment, and then breathed out deeply. His eyes shut, pressing together tightly until lines form at the edges of his temples. He looks to be contemplating something.

"Why do you need the sample?" he asks suddenly, his deep voice considering.

The young woman hesitates, deciding how much to reveal. She could not reveal it all, she knew. Those who had not seen what she had seen would not believe her. That was a basic flaw in human nature, she had found. People only trusted what they could see - and trusted each other very little.

"I found traces of burnt keratin inside the intermediate growth cells." she said quietly, dropping her gravelly voice so that it would not be heard outside the office.

"And what exactly does that mean?" the Chief Examiner asked, his dark eyes opening narrowly.

"Nothing, on its own. It means that she straightened her hair too often. Or that she enjoyed spending time around bonfires. Or she smoked slightly too often."

"So why are you telling me this?" he asked, sensing she had more to say.

"Because," the young woman held up one finger. "There is no sign of yellowing between the victim's fingers, and no accentuated plaque build-up or reddening around the gumline. She didn't smoke. Her skin is moist - I could see the openness of the sweat glands when I studied her through the telescope, and there was not a trace of smoke in her hair or lungs. She hadn't been around smoke in the last month or so. I studied the hair near the root. It was new growth, yet it still contained traces of burning."

"So..." the examiner paused, spreading his hands slightly. "She straightened her hair?"

"That's the really interesting part, Chief." the young woman said, stepping closer to him and placing her hands on the desk. "I noticed it right away, but it didn't click until I saw the burn marks. She had straight hair. There was no need for her to straighten it. A quick questioning of her parents revealed that no one in their home even owns a hair straightener."

"Which reveals nothing." the police examiner summed up, his voice gruff. "So she hung out at a friends' house and they decided to get dolled up for something. So she hid a hair straightener from her parents. With the amount of beauty junk my own daughters own, I sure can't keep track of it. Her hair was slightly burnt, Doctor. That is hardly what I would call evidence ... even circumstantially."

"Have you ever studied thermodynamics or calorimetry, officer?" she asked quietly, her eyes intense.

"No." he said bluntly. "Doctor, I have work to do. I have families to help put to rest about the murder of their daughters, unless you can give me something more-"

"It was burnt from the inside out!" she growled, cutting him off. She saw his eyes widen slightly, their depths suddenly uncertain, and knew she had his attention. "The outside shell of the hair follicle was untouched. Only the inside was burnt. If it had been a fire, or an explosion, or a fucking hair straightener - it wouldn't happen like that. Heat lessens as it transfers, it doesn't just magically go from place to place! Whatever happened to that girl, it was not a bad hair-job."

"What do you mean ... from the inside out?" he whispered in his thunderous baritone. Even trying to be quiet, his voice filled the room.

"Well I'd have to see hair samples from the other body to answer that." she said, her voice meaningful. When he hesitated, she added, "Officer - one way or another, I am going to get those samples."

"Fine." he shook his head, his voice defeated. "I'll convince her parents to sign the waver. This is on you, Dakota."

His use of her first name caught her attention, and she nodded gratefully. He might not understand, and he might not believe her, but she genuinely thought the Chief to be a good person. Reaching out one hand, she patted him lightly on the shoulder and turned to leave his office.

"As soon as possible would be appreciated, Chief." she said softly as she pulled open the door. Turning to look back at him over her shoulder, she gave him a rare smile. "Try to have a better afternoon."

And then the door clicked shut behind her, and she was gone.