INT. - SILVER CITY MORGUE - EVENING

Ray leaned over the damaged body of the victim from the warehouse, face protected by a plastic shield, light focused on the ravaged flesh before her. A call from the 9th a half hour ago pulled her assistant, Robert, away before his nimble fingers entered the woman's deets into the database.

"Our Jane Doe has an ID," he said as he hung up, sliding from his stool to join Ray at the exam table. His almond eyes crinkled at the corners in ...