"A coming-of-age ceremony, huh?" Jack roughly understood what was going on. The legal drinking age in California is 21, while in Mexico it's 18.
These American kids, upon turning 18, would cross the border to Tijuana and get themselves stoned, some even trying some contraband.
"Since they were traveling together, why did Lee die in the end, while Rosie made it back home safely? Does anyone think there's something fishy going on?" Aubrey asked.
"There's more to it than that." After briefly investigating Lee Kern's situation, Alice pulled up Rosie Bental's file.
"Interestingly, I noticed Rosie had a Traveler Express Pass."
"What's that?" Clay asked, puzzled.
"It's an electronic ID used by people who frequently cross the US-Mexico border. It's only available to US citizens, allowing for quick entry and exit."
Alice explained, logging into the CBP database and pulling up a long list of entry and exit records.
"Lee Kern was going to Tijuana for the first time, but Rosie goes back and forth almost weekly, and each time she's with a different person."
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, a look of smug satisfaction on his face, as if he'd seen through everything. "An 18-year-old girl crossing the border so frequently, you'd probably think the same thing as me, right?"
"Drug trafficking?" Jubal frowned. Although he was a seasoned FBI agent, as the father of two girls, seeing such things inevitably affected him emotionally.
"Luckily, we landed in San Diego. After we got off the plane, Jiejie and Aubrey went to talk to Rosie, and Clay was in charge of checking the equipment. Hopefully, we won't need it."
The Most Wanted team inherited the BAU's fine traditions. After Jubal assigned their tasks, except for Alice, who was still busy at her computer, the others set up a mahjong table in the cafeteria and built a Great Wall of China, standing or sitting.
—
"Thank you for letting me assist with the autopsy, Dr. Granado." Jack pulled over the telescopic hose and carefully rinsed the red paint off the body.
The red pigment, though intimidating, was easy to clean up, easily removed with plain water.
As previously agreed, the seven members of the Most Wanted team split up after landing in San Diego. Jack and Hannah first crossed the border and found the medical examiner's office in Tijuana.
As Jack cleaned the body, he carefully observed the surface injuries. He could see that most of them were inflicted postmortem, such as the wrists and arms from being bound with ropes.
He had already examined the rope, which was just ordinary plastic. Mexico, unlike the United States, lacked a comprehensive criminal database, so fiber comparisons were out of the question.
A woman in her fifties, whom Jack had referred to as Medical Examiner Granado, was examining the wound on the body's neck on the other side of the stainless steel dissection table.
She smiled at Jack, and though her expression was hidden by her mask, the smile lines at the corners of her eyes were still visible.
"Actually, I should thank you for your assistance, Agent Tavola. Please forgive our current predicament. I'm sure you can see that we're short-staffed and overwhelmed by the workload."
The middle-aged female medical examiner spoke excellent English, with a barely audible Spanish accent, and was quite friendly towards the two FBI agents.
Jack certainly understood her point. Tijuana is the fourth-largest city in Mexico, but its crime rate is second only to Juarez, with an average of nearly ten homicides per day.
Hannah stood at a distance, arms folded, watching the two men's work, her beautiful eyes darting around, a look of uncertainty.
This Texas chick had even dared to join in the fun when the Wolf Brothers ranch slaughtered cattle and pigs. While she hadn't committed as many murders as someone else during her years at the FBI, she had written several shooting reports.
But she still struggled with autopsies, a psychological discomfort that couldn't be overcome.
Of course, not even the seasoned Jubal or the combat-hardened Clay on the team could manage to chat about dinner like Jack could while working alongside the professional medical examiners.
Jack wasn't inherently antisocial; he'd simply seen too many, and he couldn't handle particularly disgusting corpses, like those of giants that were highly decomposed and had a strong odor.
But he was constantly working on his skills, always bringing a team member with him. Only by getting used to corpses could he focus and avoid missing potentially important clues.
Doctor Granado glanced at Hannah, his tone tinged with understanding. "I've been doing this for so many years, and every time I see a body, I still feel a little uncomfortable.
Especially with someone so young, living in America, who should have had a brighter future."
"Perhaps," Jack snorted, not directly addressing the middle-aged female doctor, but scraping some white powder from between the nails of the deceased's right hand.
"Is this... some kind of poison?" Doctor Granado took the glass container of powder and examined it under a lighted magnifying glass. He then turned and retrieved several portable poison test kits from the medicine cabinet.
"Leave it to me," Hannah said, somewhat embarrassedly, offering to take over this relatively simple task.
So Doctor Granado returned to his work at the autopsy table, while Jack had already pulled the shadowless light directly over the corpse's head.
"It looks like the cause of death has been confirmed. The carotid artery, trachea, and larynx were completely severed, and no other fatal injuries were found elsewhere. The abrasions indicate the victim was tied up after death."
Forensic Medic Granado nodded in agreement, but soon frowned. "But the weapon that caused this type of injury doesn't seem common. The wound tapers from right to left, with a limited depth but extending to almost half of the victim's neck."
Jack also leaned down, almost head-to-head with the middle-aged female forensic doctor. "This shows that the weapon has a considerable arc, and the wound is extremely neat. There are no signs of repeated cutting, and there are no tears on the edges of the skin, so it definitely wasn't a serrated dagger."
Forensic Medic Granado demonstrated several postures in succession, finally settling on the one of slitting the throat from behind. "This is the most reasonable way to apply force, but what kind of weapon can inflict such a clean wound with a single blow?" Of
course, it was one of the weapons that capitalists feared the most. Jack took off his mask and gloves, grabbed the sticky note on the workbench, drew a simple sketch, and showed it to the other party.
"Sickle?" The middle-aged female medical examiner also took off her mask, revealing a surprised expression.
Meanwhile, Hannah's test results came back, "This powder is cocaine."
(End of Chapter)