SCATTERED GRAVES


BEVERLY CONNOR
	
Chapter 1

Diane  Fallon  studied  the  Neanderthal  child  staring  at her  from  his  perch.  His  chubby  face  didn't  look  all that different from his modern Homo sapiens cousins. He was smiling shyly at her  from atop a boulder out­ side  the  rock  shelter,  his  plump  little  ?ngers  grasping the  surface  of  the  rock.
"Will  you  lookee  here . .  ."
For  a  fraction  of  a  second  Diane  was  startled,  as  if the resin ?gure of the Neanderthal had suddenly come to life. She smiled to herself and turned to see a lanky kid,   she  guessed   about  thirteen   years  old,   looking wide-eyed at the Neanderthal exhibit. Behind him stood Sheriff  Bruce  Can?eld  of  Rose  County  and  an  older man  she  did  not  know.
The  sheriff  was  holding  a  cardboard  ?le  box,  the kind with a lid and handholds on the sides. His wide- brimmed  sheriff's  hat  sat  on  top  of  the  box.  Can?eld was  a  large  man  in  his  late  ?fties  with  a  full  head of  dyed  brown  hair.  He  was  wearing  his  khaki  sher­ iff's  uniform  and  Diane  thought  he  looked  a  little sheepish.
She  hadn't  heard  them  come  in,  with  all  the  noise created  by  the  staff  working  on  the  dioramas  for  the new  human-evolution  exhibits.
"Hello,  Diane," said  the  sheriff.  "Sorry to  barge  in here  like  this."  He  set  the  box  on  a  nearby  table.
"This  here's  Arlen  Wilson  and  his  grandson  Henry.
Arlen  has  a  farm  out  in  the  county."  The  sheriff's booming  voice  echoed  across  the  room,  and  several exhibit  preparers  glanced  their  way,  then  back  at  their work.
  Arlen Wilson, the grandfather, was a man who looked to  be  in  his  sixties.  He  was  taller  than  the  sheriff  by an  inch  or  two.  He  had  a  ruddy  complexion,  white thinning hair, and the beginnings of a beer belly hang­ ing  over  his  belt.  He  and  his  grandson  both  were dressed  in  worn  jeans,  short-sleeved  plaid  shirts,  and baseball  caps.
  "Nice  meeting  you,"  Arlen  said.  He  took  off  his cap  and  grinned  broadly  as  he  shook  her  hand.
  The teen, Henry, was not as tall as his grandfather. He  was  close  to  Diane's  ?ve  nine  and  about  as  lean as  she  was.  From  the  broad  grin  on  his  boyish  face, Diane   surmised   he   was   happy   to   be   here   in   the museum.
  "I  heard  you  was  doing  something  to  the  primate room." Henry turned to his grandfather. "Lookit how real  they  are."
  Diane was afraid Henry was going to reach out and touch  them,  as  she  was  often  tempted  to.  He  looked at each small scene in turn-the child on the boulder, a  man  making  stone  tools,  a  Neanderthal  burial.  On another  pass,  his  gaze  ?nally  saw  the  little  girl  in  the back of  the cave  hiding behind a  rock, peering  out at the  other  child.  Henry  grinned.
"She  playing  hide-and-seek?"  he  asked.
"Maybe,"  said  Diane.  "That's  for  you  to  decide.
We're  trying  to  make  each  exhibit  tell  small  stories, but  you  have  to  supply  some  of  the  plot  from  what you  see."
"Wouldja  look  at  the  way  he's  staring  right  at  us," the  kid  said,  pointing  to  the  child  on  the  boulder.
"Each scene has one ?gure making eye contact with the  visitor,"  said  Diane.
"I  like  that,"  said  Henry.  "It  makes  them  look  so alive,  like  they're  watching  you."
"The artists have just ?nished a Cro-Magnon," said Diane,  "one  of  the  oldest  modern  humans.  He  looks at  you  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  as  he  stands  side­ ways  to  you.  It's  an  odd  sensation,  but  fun."  Diane smiled at Henry before she turned back to the sheriff, glad  to  see  that  the  new  exhibit  was  getting  a  good review.
  "What  can I  do  for  you?" She  eyed  the box  sitting on  the  table.
  Henry,  who  was  leaning  rather  far  into  the  di­ orama,  spoke  up  before  the  sheriff  had  a  chance  to answer.
  "Tell  me,  what  do  you  think  happened  to  them? Did  we  kill  them  off,  or  did  they  marry  with  us  and disappear,  or  did  the  weather  get  them?"
  "I  didn't  know  you're  interested  in  Neanderthals, Henry."  The  sheriff  chuckled.
"We  watch  a  lot  of  those  shows,"  said  his  grandfa­ ther. "The ones on PBS and the Discovery Channel."
"I  don't  know  what  caused  their  extinction,"  said Diane.  "Right  now  it  looks  like  they  did  not  inter­ breed with us. So far, scientists haven't found any Ne­ anderthal  DNA  in  our  gene  pool."
"Those  scientists  need  to  come  to  my  jailhouse  on a  Saturday  night,"  said  the  sheriff.
They  laughed,  and  Diane  made  a  move  to  address the  box.
She  reached  out  to  touch  the  lid.
"What's  in  the  box?"  she  asked  the  sheriff.
"It's probably nothing, just pieces of animal bone . . .	 but  you  never  know.  Henry  may  have  a  point,"  said the  sheriff.
Diane  raised  her  eyebrows,  looked  at  Henry,  and started  to  open  her  mouth.  Arlen  Wilson  spoke  ?rst.
"The  land  next  to  mine  is  owned  by  a  man  from Detroit. He sometimes asks me to tend it for him. He got the idea he wanted to plant ryegrass and put some cattle  on  it  this  winter.  I  guess  he  was  gonna  ask  me to tend to them too. I'll have to tell him to hire some­ body else. I'm not a cattleman." Arlen shook his head.
	Beverly  Connor "Anyways,  I  was  plowing  it  before  planting  the  rye­ grass, and my grandson Henry likes to look over fresh- plowed  ground."
  "I  ?nd  the  neatest  stuff,"  said  Henry.  "I've  got  a whole   collection   of   arrowheads.   I   once   found   an Indian-head  penny."
"This time he found some bones-pieces of bones.
I thought it was nothing, just the bones of some ani­ mal.  But  Henry  thought  we  should  call  the  sheriff."
"I ?gured it like this," said Henry. "The pieces are all   about   the   same   size.   Mostly.   And   they   look chopped  up.  Well,  you  don't  get  rid  of  animals  that way.  If  an  animal  dies,  you  either  bury  it  or  haul  it out into the woods for the buzzards and coyotes-you don't  chop  it  up  in  small  pieces."
"He thought they might have gone through a wood chipper,"  said  Arlen.  He  and  the  sheriff  chuckled.
"We  just  thought  it  was  worth  a  look,"  said  the sheriff,   still   appearing   a   little   embarrassed.   "You know,  just  in  case."
"Then,  let's  have  a  look.  We'll  use  the  lab  through here,"  said  Diane.
She  led  them  through  double  doors  into  a  room with   cabinets   and   counter   space,   sinks,   and   work islands-all  metal  and  shiny.  One  end  was  stacked with  materials  that  had  over?owed  from  the  exhibit preparations.
Diane  donned  a  pair  of  gloves  she  pulled  from  a box  on  the  wall,  tore  a  sheet  of  brown  paper  from  a roll mounted on the wall, and spread it out on one of the  shiny  tables.  She  set  the  box  down  and  opened  it to ?nd wadded-up newspaper. She gently removed the paper.  The  box  was  ?lled  with  pieces  of  bone  with moist  dirt  clinging  to  their  surface.
"We  didn't want  to wash  them up,"  said Henry.  "I don't  think  you're  supposed  to  do  that,  are  you?"
"You  did  right,"  said  Diane.
She picked out several pieces of bone, put them on the  table,  teased  the  dirt  away  from  them  with  her ?ngers,  and  set  them  aside.  The  pieces  were  all  of SCATTERED  GRAVES	 similar  size,  but  not  so  small  that  she  couldn't  recog­ nize  them.
"I'm afraid that Henry is right," said Diane. "They are human, they're fairly fresh, and they show de?nite tool markings as a result of being chopped up, proba­ bly  in  a  wood  chipper."
"I  knew  it,"  said  Henry.  "I  knew  it."
Chapter 2
"Well,  damn.  Well,  damn.  Are  you  sure?  Of  course you're  sure.  Well,  damn."  The  sheriff  slapped  his  hat against  his  thigh  and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling.  "All  I need  is  a  maniac  running  loose  in  the  county.  You're sure, aren't you?" he asked again. "Could it be a pig?
I  understand  pigs  are  like  humans."
Both  Arlen  and  Henry  looked  at  Sheriff  Can?eld with  identical  bewildered  expressions.
Diane grinned at him. "The tissue is similar. That's why  pig  valves  can  be  used  in  heart  surgery  and  why pigs  are  sometimes  used  in  forensic  research.  But  the shapes  of  the  bones  are  very  different."  She  picked up  several  pieces  of  the  broken  bone.  "This  is  the distal  end  of  a  phalange,  this  is  a  piece  sliced  off  a greater  trochanter,  this  is  the  petrous  portion  of  the temporal  bone,  this  is  a  piece  of  occipital-all  of  it is  human."
"Okay,  I  was  just  hoping  that  you  were  having  an off  day,"  he  said.  "I  don't  suppose  you  can  ID  the victim?"
Diane  cocked  an  eyebrow  at  him.  "Right  now  I can't  even  tell  you  if  it's  one  individual  or  more  than one.  If  we  get  lucky-"
"You  mean  there  may  be  more  than  one  body?
Well,  hell,"  said  the  sheriff.
"I don't know," said Diane. She looked from Henry to  Arlen.  "Are  these  all  the  bones  you  found?"
Henry  nodded.  "We  just  looked  in  that  one  spot where  they  turned  up  in  the  plowed  ground,"  said Henry.  "We  didn't  go  digging  around."
"How  big  a  ?eld  are  we  talking  about?"  asked  the sheriff.
"Well,"  said  Arlen.  "The  part  we  was  plowing's  a three-acre bit that's  circled by trees. It's  connected to a  bigger,  ?fteen-acre  ?eld  by  a  path  just  about  wide enough  for  me  to  get  the  tractor  through.  A  creek runs  along  the  far  edge  in  the  woods.  That's  why  the owner wanted it seeded. It's where the cows would go to  get  water.  Not  that  he's  really  going  to  put  cows there.  He'll  change  his  mind."
"So we have eighteen acres to search?" interrupted the  sheriff.  "That's  just  great."
"Well,  I  don't  know  if  you'd  need  to  look  at  the ?fteen," said Arlen. "See, the owner had me plow the three-acre  ?eld  a  couple  of  years  ago.  So  it's  easier digging  if  you're  of  a  mind  to  bury  something.  The ?fteen-acre  parcel's   rock  hard.  Two  years   ago  the owner  got  it  into  his  head  he  wanted  to  plant  sun­
?owers  on  the  small  piece  and  grow  peanuts  on  the larger  ?eld.  He  changed  his  mind-he's  always  doing that, doesn't really know anything about farming-and ended up not doing anything with either ?eld. So, I'm thinking  that  maybe  whoever  did  it  used  the  small ?eld  only,  being  as  it's  kind  of  off  by  itself  and  the dirt was already roughed up from the earlier plowing."
"Did you hear anything like a wood chipper?" asked the  sheriff.
"No.  And  might  not  have.  Our  house  is  about  ?ve miles  away,"  said  Arlen.  "Sometimes  you  can  hear things  through  the  woods-depends  on  the  weather."
"How   long   do   you   think   they've   been   in   the ground?"  the  sheriff  asked  Diane.
She  picked  up  one  of  the  fragments  and  examined it, felt it. She put it to her nose and sniffed it. She did the  same  thing  to  another  one.
"I'd  say  not  more  than  a  few  months-could  be  a few weeks," she said. "This is fairly new bone. Chopped up like this, the ?esh would decompose very quickly."
  The  sheriff  sighed.  "I  suppose  I  can  get  those  ar­ chaeology  students  at  the  university,  like  we  did  be­ fore, to grid and sift," said the sheriff, more to himself than  to  Diane  and  the  other  two.
  Diane looked at the box of bone fragments. She had successfully  reconstructed  bones   from  an  explosion and  from  plane  crashes.  She  should  be  able  to  do something  with  these.
  "If  you  can  ?nd  the  right  pieces ...  ,"  she  began and   picked   up   the   petrosal.   "This   is   the   auditory canal." She pointed to an opening in the bone. "I can make  a  mold  of  the  canal,  measure  the  angle,  and estimate  the  sex  of  the  person  who  owns  this  piece, with  a  little  over  eighty  percent  accuracy."
"Well,  that'll  be  a  good  start,"  said  the  sheriff.
"What  about  DNA?  Can  Jin  give  us  a  pro?le?"
Diane smiled to herself. No matter what fascinating thing she could do with bones, DNA was always going to  be  king.
"If  any  DNA  survived,"  she  said.  "And  that's  a big  if."
"Why?" asked Henry. He hovered over the box like it  was  his  stuff  inside.  His  grandfather  gently  pulled him  back.
"DNA  is  very  fragile,"  said  Diane.  "It  degrades quickly."
"Then  how  can  they  ?nd  DNA  in  Neanderthals- they're something like thirty thousand years old-and not  these  bones?"  asked  Henry.
"That's  a  good  question,"  said  the  sheriff.  "Those Neanderthals  have  tougher  DNA?"
The three of them looked at Diane as if demanding an  explanation  for  what  looked  to  them  to  be  a  con­ tradiction.
"No," said Diane. She put down the bone fragment and stepped back from the table  so she could look at the  three  of  them.
"For  DNA  to  be  preserved,  it  has  to  be  protected from  the  elements.  The  Neanderthal  skeletons  that have  survived  to  modern  times  were  buried  deep  in the  ground  or  inside  caves.  That  gave  them  enough protection. Even then, scientists had to look for DNA in  inner  protected  places  like  the  roots  of  teeth  and deep  in  the  long  bones."
  Diane  gestured  toward  the  box  of  bones.  "I  doubt these  remains  were  covered  with  more  than  a  thin layer  of  soil.  Chopping  them  up  caused  them  to  de­ compose quickly and destroyed most of the places that DNA  could  be  preserved."
  It   was   written   on   their   faces   that   they   weren't convinced-after all, she could just see them thinking, thirty  thousand  years  verses a  few  weeks.  Diane  took a  deep  breath.  "Okay.  Until  fairly  recently  the  prob­ lem was that even when there was DNA present, there was  simply  not  enough  to  do  anything  with.  We  now have better methods of copying the DNA, duplicating it  to  make  more  of  it."
Diane  stepped  to  the  table  and  began  putting  the bones  back in  the  box.  She kept  the  petrosal out,  got a  smaller  box  from  a  cabinet,  and  dropped  the  bone inside.
"Well, just how does that work, exactly?" asked the sheriff. "I hear all the time about copying DNA, PCR tests,  and  this  and  that,  but  I  don't  understand  how you  can  copy  something  like  DNA.  They  always  talk about  it  as  if  they  were  making  a  Xerox  copy."
"I  don't  understand  it  either,"  said  Henry.
Jin  would  be  better  at  this,  thought  Diane.
"Every  living  thing  has  a  mechanism  to  copy  its DNA-if  we  didn't,  we  couldn't  grow  or  make  new cells.  And  there  is  not  a  lot  of  variation  across  the animal  and  plant  kingdoms  in  the  way  the  copying  is done.  One  of  the  big  breakthroughs  came  when  peo­ ple  working  with  DNA  ?gured  out  how  to  make  that copying  process  happen  in  a  test  tube."
For a fraction of a moment Diane thought she could stop  there  with  her  explanation,  but  no.  The  three  of them were looking at her again, demanding an expla­ nation   of   how   one   goes   about   copying   DNA.   Jin wanted  to  do  a  computer  teaching  program  for  the museum.  It  was  a  good  idea.  Diane  wished  she  had one  now.  She  smiled  at  the  three  of  them,  actually glad  they  were  curious.  Curiosity  was  good  for  mu­ seum  business.
  "It's  an enzyme-polymerase-that  makes the  cop­ ies of DNA when a cell divides. We can use polymer­ ase   from   certain   organisms,   such   as   the   bacteria Thermus aquaticus, in a test tube to mimic the natural procedure. Polymerase and some other chemicals unzip the  DNA  helix,  use  both  sides  of  the  helix  as  tem­ plates,  copy  them,  and  zip  them  back  up,  re-forming the  helix."  Diane  whorled  her  ?nger  around  for  em­ phasis.  "Millions  of  copies  can  be  made."
  She  knew  they  were  going  to  ask  how,  and  she  re­ gretted  that  she  wasn't  a  better  teacher.  Occasionally she taught classes in physical anthropology at the mu­ seum  for  Bartram  University,  but  they  were  mainly hands-on  courses  about  the  very  basics  of  bones  and the  human  skeleton.
  But Henry didn't ask for details. He wanted to know about  mistakes.
  "I remember somebody saying you get errors when you  make  a  lot  of  copies  from  a  little  bit  of  DNA.  Is that  true?"  he  asked.
  "That  was  a  problem  with  some  of  the  earlier  pro­ cesses," said Diane. "But the Thermus aquaticus poly­ merase compares each duplicate with the original and corrects  errors  as  it  copies."
  Henry grinned. "Now, see, that's just plain amazing. That's  just  like  science  ?ction."
  "It is that," said the sheriff.  "Kind of hard to wrap your brain around." He paused a moment as if study­ ing  what  she  had  told  them.  "Is  there  any  possibility you  can  get  some  DNA  from  these  bones?"  he  asked again.
  "Yes,"  Diane  reluctantly  agreed,  "there  is  a  small possibility  that  there  may  be  something  we  can  use, particularly if we are lucky enough to ?nd some intact teeth  or  bone  marrow."
The sheriff grinned broadly. That was what he wanted to  hear.  Diane  sighed  inwardly;  she  might  have  been able  to  avoid  the  whole  explanation  if  she  had  just said  yes  in  the  ?rst  place.  She  put  the  smaller  box containing  the  petrosal  in  with  the  other  bones  and put  the  lid  back  on  the  box.
  "If you and your grandfather like, you can tour the museum before you leave. I'll call for a docent if you want  a  guided  tour,"  said  Diane.
  "Thank you. We might just look around some," said Arlen   Wilson.   "But   Henry   here   knows   this   place pretty  good."
  Diane  picked  up  the  box  and  escorted  the  three  of them  out  of  the  lab,  through  the  un?nished  human- evolution   exhibit,   and   out   into   the   main   hallway. Diane and the sheriff stood off to the side, away from the  ?ow  of  people  visiting  the  museum.  The  sheriff watched  Arlen  and  his  grandson  as  they  disappeared past  the  museum  store  toward  the  dinosaur  exhibit.
"Arlen and his wife, Mary, are good people," he said.
"They raised Henry and his brother, Caleb Miller, since they were just little fellas." He looked back at Diane.
"Arlen's  daughter  and  son-in-law  were  kind  of  wild.
Not  in  a  real  bad  way.  They  didn't  do  drugs  or  any­ thing. Just liked having fun. Got in a boating accident on the lake-going too fast, as usual. Killed the daugh­ ter,  Arlene,  and  left  Caleb  Senior  in  a  coma  for  a couple  of  years  before  he  died  too.  Real  sad.  Arlen and  his  wife  did  a  good  job  raising  the  boys,  though.
Caleb  will  be  ?nishing  up  at  Bartram  this  year.  And you see how Henry is. Bright kid. Both of them are."
He shook his head. "Henry was excited about ?nd­ ing the bones. He doesn't quite see the tragedy behind it. It's adventure to him. But I'm afraid folks are going to  be  pretty  upset  ?nding  out  somebody's  been  put through  a  wood  chipper."
Diane remembered when she had thought of foren­ sics  as  an  adventure.  One  mass  grave  ended  the  ro­ mance  for  her.  She  paused  and  waved  at  one  of  the visitors  who  was  waving  at  her,  trying  to  remember his  name.  She  turned  back  to  the  sheriff.
	Beverly  Connor   "As  the  archaeology  students  are  sifting  for  the bone,  they need  to  look  for bug  parts  too-carapaces and  the  like.  David . . .  ,"  began  Diane.
  The  sheriff  was  shaking  his  head  before  she  could ?nish.  "I've  got  nothing  against  David,  and  I  know he's  good  with  bugs.  But  the  crime  lab  is  different than  when  you  were  running  it."
"Get  an  entomologist  at  the  university  then,"  said Diane.
The  sheriff  nodded  and leaned  his  shoulder  against the  wall,  rolling  the  brim  of  his  hat  as  he  spoke.
"I wasn't real fond of the  last police chief in Rose­ wood;  you  know  that;  but  we  worked  things  out.  But this new mayor and the people he put in, they're arro­ gant  and  pushy.  Why  did  you  guys  vote  them  in?"
I  didn't,  thought  Diane,  but  she  didn't  say  it.  She shrugged. "There was a lot of petty crime, and Jeffer­ ies  promised  that  as  mayor  he  would  do  something about it. I think a lot of voters responded to that. The last  administration  concentrated  on  drugs  and  violent crimes  and  less  on  burglaries,  but  more  people  are actually  affected  by  break-ins.  Plus,  Jefferies  is  fairly young.  Rosewood  tends  to  see  itself  as  Atlanta  and wants  young  blood."
"Don't  I  know  it.  Rosewood's  always  been  too  big for its britches. We didn't need a crime lab in the ?rst place.  No  offense  intended,  but  the  GBI  lab  was  just ?ne."  He  sighed.  "You  know,  it's  awfully  hard  some­ times  to  get  burglars.  Even  if  you  know  who  it  is- proving it's another matter. Have these new guys done any  better  than  the  old  bunch?"
"I  don't  know,"  said  Diane.  "I  don't  keep  up  with local  politics  or  the  police  blotter."  Diane  shifted  the box  to  rest  on  a  hip.
The  sheriff  shook  his  head  and  rolled  the  brim  of his  hat  again.  Diane  wondered  why  it  didn't  have  a permanent  roll  in  it.
"The new head of the crime lab, now, Bryce . . . he's a  piece  of  work,"  said  the  sheriff.  "You  know  what he  did?"
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
Diane  shook  her  head.
  "Early  on,  when  we  had  that  killing  at  the  tavern near  the  county  line,  Bryce  showed  up  to  work  the crime  scene.  I  hadn't  called  him  and  didn't  intend  to. We had the GBI coming. I told him I wasn't using the Rosewood crime scene unit. He got all huffy. I thought me  and  my  deputies  were  going  to  have  to  escort  him back  to  the  city  limits.  Felt  sorry  for  Neva.  I  like  her, and I  know  she must have been embarrassed."
  He shook his head. "And now Mayor Jefferies is talk­ ing  about  incorporating  Rosewood  and  Rose  County. Hell,  if  we  wanted  to  have  Rosewood  politics,  we'd move  into  the  city.  He's  not  going  to  get  anyone  in the  county  to  vote  for  that,  I  can  tell  you."
  The  sheriff  stopped,  ?nally,  it  seemed,  running  out of  wind.  He  stood  up  straight.
  "Well,  I  guess  I  need  to  let  us  both  get  back  to work,"  he  said.  "I'll  go  directly  to  the  Bartram  Ar­ chaeology  Department  and  ask  about  some  students to  do  the  sifting.  We'll  bring  any  more  bones  we  ?nd straight  to  you,  if  that's  all  right."
  Diane nodded. "That's ?ne. Take care, Sheriff. Good to  see  you  again."
  "You  too," he  said and  took his  leave, weaving  his way through a crowd of schoolkids getting on the ele­ vators  to  the  second-?oor  exhibits.
Diane's  cell  rang.  It  was  Jin  calling  from  the  DNA lab  in  the  basement  of  the  museum.
"Boss,  you  got  to  help  me.  I've  had  to  lock  down my  lab,"  said  Jin.
Chapter 3
"Locked  down?"  said  Diane.  "What  do  you  mean?"
"I mean that Lloyd Bryce sent this guy, Curtis Crab­ grass,  from  the  crime  lab  to  apply  for  a  job-"
"His  name  is  Crabgrass?"  said  Diane.
"Maybe  it's  Crabtree,"  Jin  conceded.  "Curtis  Crab­ tree.  Anyway,  I  told  him  the  DNA  lab  is  not  hiring right  now.  But  the  guy  won't  take  no  for  an  answer.
He  tried  to  bully  me  into  giving  him  a  job.  I  ?nally got  him  out  the  door,  but  he  tried  to  come  back.  I had  to  lock  him  out."
"Is  he  violent?"  asked  Diane.
"Not  exactly  violent,  yet,  but  he  did  some  shoving.
Now   he's   hanging   out   at   the   door   talking   on   his phone."
"You  say  Bryce  sent  him?"
"Yeah,  like  it  was  an  order  to  me  from  Bryce  that I  should  give  Crabtree  a  job  in  the  DNA  lab."
"I'll  be  right  down."
Diane  shoved  her  phone  in  her  pocket,  picked  up the  box  of  bones,  and  headed  for  the  DNA  lab.
"What  on  earth  does  Bryce  think  he's  up  to?"  she muttered.
Visitors were gathered in front of the bank of eleva­ tors, waiting to go up to the second-?oor exhibits. She worked  her  way  past  them  and  balanced  the  box  of bones  on her  knee as  she unlocked  the private  eleva­ tor,  the  one  that  went  all  the  way  from  the  subbase­ ment to the attic. It was quiet inside the elevator, and she  tried  to  clear  her  thoughts  as  she  rode  down  to the   recently   renovated   basement   that   housed   the brand-new  DNA  lab.
  The  elevator  door  opened  and  Diane  saw  Curtis Crabtree  in  front  of  the  glass  doors  to  the  DNA  lab. She  had  glimpsed  him  in  the  parking  lot  but  had  not known  his  name.  She  remembered  David  telling  her that Bryce had hired two new people-a young woman whom  David  and  Neva  called  Lollipop  because  she always  had  one  in  her  mouth,  and  a  man  who  David was  sure  was  some  kind  of  thug.  This  must  be  him, she  thought.
  Curtis Crabtree had dark curly hair and a fair com­ plexion that  made his day-old  beard look dark  on his thin  face.  He  was  wearing  corduroy  bell-bottoms,  a white shirt open at the neck, and a gold chain hanging among  wisps  of  black  chest  hairs.
  Jin  saw  her  through  the  glass  door  and  came  out, locking  the  door  behind  him.  His  jet-black  hair  was cut  short.  He  had  on  jeans  and  a  white  lab  coat  and wore  a  decidedly  irritated  expression  on  his  face. Deven Jin was formerly one of Diane's crime scene crew.  He  was  now  head  of  the  new  DNA  lab  run under the auspices of the museum. DNA labs all over the  country  were  backed  up  with  work,  and  Jin  was getting  just  about  more  samples  to  analyze  than  he could  handle  himself.  The  lab  was  proving  to  be  a lucrative  addition  to  the  museum.  He  had  not  adver­ tised  yet,  but  he  was  planning  to  hire  another  techni­ cian.  But  Jin  was  picky.  He  had  to  be.  Diane  could imagine  that   Curtis  Crabtree   in  no   way  met   Jin's criteria.
  "This  is  Curtis  Crab . . .  tree,"  said  Jin,  waving  a hand  in  the  direction  of  Mr. Bell-bottoms  and  Gold Chain.
Crabtree  stood  with  his  arms  folded,  frowning  at Jin.
"Look," Crabtree said, "Lloyd Bryce appointed me as the link between the Rosewood Crime Lab and the DNA  lab.  He  wants  me  to  run  all  the  samples  that come  from  our  unit.  What's  the  problem?"
Diane  set  her  box  down  on  a  nearby  coffee  table.
"Lloyd  Bryce  has  no  authority  to  appoint  anyone  to the DNA lab," said Diane. "All DNA personnel deci­ sions  are  made  by  Jin  and  reviewed  by  me.  We  have strict  protocols  for  access  to  our  laboratory  services.
Those protocols do not allow for an agency submitting DNA  samples  to  use  our  equipment  to  analyze  it themselves."
Crabtree   had   a   staccato   laugh   that   she   imagined would become  annoying  very  quickly.
"Funny,"  he  said.  "This  is  different.  We  aren't  just any agency. If you want the business of the Rosewood crime  scene  unit,  this  is  how  it's  going  to  be  done.
This is our policy." He stood with his chin jutting out, his  body  rigid  as  his  eyes  shifted  from  Diane  to  Jin.
Jin  rolled  his  eyes.
"Then we will have to forgo doing your DNA test­ ing,"  said  Diane.  "The  Georgia  Bureau  of  Investiga­ tion  has  an  excellent  DNA  lab.  You  can  take  your proposal  to  them-or  to  any  of  the  other  labs  across the  country."
Crabtree hesitated a moment, as if he had expected her to give in and now didn't know quite how to pro­ ceed.  He  didn't  laugh.
"You better rethink this. You don't know what you are  getting  into,"  he  said.
"Mr. Crabtree," said Diane, "I think you had better go. Even if we were hiring right now, you've disquali­
?ed  yourself  by  your  aggressive  behavior."
"What? You're kidding. I was just defending myself.
He  started  it."  Crabtree  pointed  to  Jin.
"Jin  started  it,"  Diane  repeated.  "Are  you  in  the third grade?" She pointed to the stairs. "Please leave.
This  area  is  off-limits  to  you."
Crabtree narrowed his eyes to slits. "You're a fool­ ish  woman,"  he  said.  "A  very  foolish  woman."
He stood there in front of them for several moments as if  deciding whether  or not  to dig  his heels in.  Sud­ denly  he  turned  and  headed  for  the  stairs.  Diane  and Jin  watched  him  leave.
"Cheeky  bastards,"  said  Jin.
"Aren't  they,"  said  Diane.  She  took  her  cell  from her  jacket  pocket  and  called  the  crime  lab  and  asked for  Lloyd  Bryce.
"I  think  there  has  been  a  misunderstanding,"  said Bryce when Diane had briefed him on the encounter.
"Curtis  is  enthusiastic  in  everything  he  does.  He  was probably  just  being  an  assertive  applicant.  Your  guy is  just  overly  sensitive."
Diane  sat  down  on  one  of  the  leather  chairs  in  the small  sitting  area  near  the  entrance  to  the  lab.  She put  her  feet  up  on  the  oak  coffee  table  and  rubbed the middle of her forehead with the tips of her ?ngers.
Jin sat in a chair opposite her and leaned forward, his elbows  on  his  knees.
"Enthusiasm aside, Mr. Crabtree's behavior was in­ appropriate," said Diane. "I explained that we cannot accommodate your DNA requirements. Our protocols don't  allow  it."
"I  believe  we  can  come  to  some  compromise  on this,"  Bryce  said.
"What  kind  of  compromise?"  said  Diane.  "Certi?­ cation standards require that we use only highly trained technicians who function under our direct supervision and  authority."
"I have another employee whom I can recommend," he  began.
"Neva  would  be  acceptable,  if  you  wish  to  transfer her to us. But she would need extensive training and, as  I  said,  she  would  function  one  hundred  percent under  our  authority."
Jin grinned. He would like to have Neva. They were a team when he worked in the crime scene unit. Neva was  a  former  police  of?cer  given  to  Diane  by  the Rosewood Police Department when Diane started the crime scene unit. Now that Diane was no longer head of  the  unit,  Neva  worked  for  Bryce.
  "I'd  rather  keep  Neva  working  crime  scenes,"  said Bryce.  "I  was  thinking  of  Rikki  Gillinick.  She's  very bright."
"Rikki  Gillinick?"  repeated  Diane.
Jin jumped out of the chair and came at Diane shak­ ing  his  head.  Diane  waved  him  back.
David  had  told  Diane  about  Rikki,  also  known  as Lollipop,  and  her  inability  to  understand  the  differ­ ence  between  what  she  knew  and  what  she  believed, and  how  she  carried  her  preconceptions  with  her  to crime  scenes.
David  was  another  of  Diane's  former  crime  scene crew.  He  was  a  friend  she  had  worked  with  doing human rights investigations. David took the news that Diane  was  being  replaced  hard  and  more  than  once had said he was going to quit. He and Neva frequently joked  about  the  unit  over  their  weekly  dinners  with Diane, their way of debrie?ng, Diane supposed. Their biggest complaints were Bryce's assigning David to do only lab work, taking him out of the ?eld, and putting the  inexperienced  Rikki  on  the  larger  cases-like  the murder  of  Judge  Karen  McNevin.  Neva  was  sent  to process  a  downtown  break-in  while  Bryce  and  Rikki worked  the  judge's  scene.  David  analyzed  the  evi­ dence  collected  by  Bryce  and  Rikki,  and  the  police arrested the brother of a man the judge had put away.
It was a slam dunk according to Bryce, but Diane had sensed  that  David  was  not  satis?ed  with  the  way  it was  handled.
Rikki  as  a  DNA  tech  was  out  of  the  question.
"We  are  committed  to  the  protocols  that  regulate us  and  ensure  the  quality  of  our  work,"  said  Diane.
"I'll  tell  you  what  I  told  Mr. Crabtree.  The  GBI  has a ?ne DNA lab. Perhaps you can work out something with  them."
"Look,  Diane,  I  know  you  are  ticked  at  being  re­ placed  as  the  crime  lab  director,  but  don't  let  your emotions cause you to overlook the merits of working with  us."
  That did pique Diane's ire. She straightened up and put  her  feet  on  the  ?oor.
  "Lloyd," she said, "the DNA lab tests and analyzes samples. There is no 'working with' anyone in the way that  you  are  suggesting.  And  Crabtree  is  off-limits here.  That's  the  end  of  the  discussion."
"You're  being  foolish,"  he  said.
That word again. "I don't think there is much point in  continuing  this  conversation."  Diane  ?ipped  her cell  shut.
Diane  called  security  and  made  arrangements  with Chanell  Napier,  her  head  of  security,  to  post  a  guard in  the  museum  basement  at  Jin's  lab  until  further notice.
"That's a hell of a note, isn't it?" said Jin. "We have to  post  a  guard  to  keep  out  the  crime  scene  people."
"It's a peculiar turn of events," agreed Diane, stand­ ing up.  "Call  me  if  there are  any more problems."
Diane took her box of bones and rode the elevator up  to  her  osteology  lab-adjacent  to  the  Rosewood Crime Lab. She entered, locking the door behind her.
Like  the  DNA  lab,  the  osteology  lab  was  part  of  the museum-and  her   domain.  She  liked  being   in  the quiet room. Its shiny tables, white cabinets, and sterile atmosphere  were  calming  to  her.
She  set  the  box  down  on  one  of  the  metal  tables and  donned  her  lab  coat  and  a  pair  of  gloves.  Then she  tore  a  piece  of  white  paper  from  a  roll,  spread  it on the table, and began taking the broken bones from the  box.  She  examined  each  piece  as  she  laid  them out,  looking  for  anything  of  note  that  might  be  cling­ ing  to  them,  examining  them  for  tool  marks.  All  of them  had  deep  cuts.  Diane  tried  to  keep  the  image out  of  her  mind  of  someone  feeding  body  parts  into a  wood  chipper.
She  picked  up  a  fragment  cut  from  the  left  zygo­ matic  arch-the  cheekbone.  Muscles  anchored  to  the head for chewing pass through the zygomatic arch and attach to the lower mandible. She noted that the piece she held in her hand was small compared to the early hominid  replicas  she  had  been  working  with  for  the Neanderthal  exhibit.  Small  zygomatic  arches  meant smaller jaw muscles and were thought to be indicators of  the  introduction  of  tool  use  in  early  hominids.  Be­ fore  tools were  developed  for  slicing and  dicing  food, the  jaw  was  the  power  tool,  and  a  big  muscle  gave  a signi?cant  advantage  for  survival.  After  tools  came into  use,  just  any  old  size  of  zygomatic  arch  had  sur­ vivability.  At  least  that  was  one  hypothesis.
  She  had  a  brief  unbidden  mental  image  of  a  head going through a chipper. She pushed it from her mind. Diane took the bones to one of the sinks, put them on a screen, and gently sprayed the dirt and detritus off them, passing  the runoff over a  ?ner-meshed  screen  to ?lter  out  smaller  items,  and  from  there  catching  the wash  water  in  a  plastic  tub.  She  placed  the  cleaned bones  on  a  drying  screen  and  the  screen  onto  a  rack. Returning  to  the  ?ner-meshed  screen,  she  collected the  fragments  that  had  dropped  through  the  holes  of the  ?rst  screen.
  A small object caught her eye, and she picked it up. She  recognized  it  as  a  piece  sliced  from  the  greater horn of the hyoid bone-the small bone in the throat critical  to  speech  that  anchors  the  tongue  and  is  con­ nected  to  the  muscles  of  the  jaw  and  larynx.
  Higher  apes  don't  have  hyoid  bones,  but  Neander­ thals  did-ones  very  much  like  human  hyoids-which led to  the hypothesis that  Neanderthals had  the same higher-order  speech  capability  that  humans  have.
  The  hyoid  bone,  the  zygomatic  arch-tiny  clues  to human evolution. The  pelvis, bones  of the hand, shape of the skull, cranial capacity, shape of the spine and the long bones-bigger clues. And then there was context- stone  tools,  hearths,  graves,  and  grave  goods-more big  clues.  All  the  tiny  clues  and  big  clues  together provided an idea of what early ancestors of man were like. These were the things she was incorporating into the exhibit. Diane hoped that the bone fragments she had  of  this  unknown  skeleton  held  as  many  clues  to who  the  individual  was  and  why  he  or  she  was  now in  bits  and  pieces.
  Something  metallic,  partly  covered  by  the  detritus in  the  dirt  on  the  small  screen,  re?ected  a  glint  of light.  She  picked  it  up  and  swished  it  in  the  water.  It was  a  piece  of  thick  wire,  iridescent  blue-green  in color. She turned it over in her palm and examined it before  she  took  it  to  the  dissecting  microscope-one that  allowed  her  to  view  three-dimensional  objects. The  microscope  con?rmed  that  the  mashed  piece  of metal had been round or oval. Was it from a piece of jewelry?  Earring?  From  a  body  piercing?  She  labeled it  and  bagged  it.  A  tiny  clue.
Diane looked at the bones on the drying rack again.
They were a mixture of fragments from the skull, pieces of rib, sections of long bone. When they dried she would start laying them out in anatomical position on the table.
Who knew, maybe she could put Humpty Dumpty back together  again-after  a  fashion-provided  it  was  one individual.  So  far  she  hadn't  seen  any  indication  that there  was  more  than  one.
She   picked   up   the   petrosal   and   examined   it.   It should  produce  a  good  cast  of  the  ear  canal.  De­ termining  the  sex  would  be  another  good  clue.
As  she  put  the  petrosal  back  on  the  drying  screen, she  noticed  something  on  one  of  the  occipital  bones.
On  the  corner  of  the  piece  was  some  beveling.  The fragment  was  not  big,  and  the  beveling  could  be  an artifact   of   the   chipper-probably   was-but   it   was something  worth  looking  at,  especially  if  she  could ?nd the adjacent bones. There was a possibility it was a  gunshot  or  projectile  wound.  That  would  be  a  big clue.
A  half-inch  piece  of  metal,  a  petrosal,  a  possible bullet  hole-not  even  a  handful  of  clues,  but  she  had just begun, and who knew what else the sifters would ?nd  in  the  ?eld.
Diane  doffed  her  lab  coat  and  gloves,  washed  her hands,  and  was  ready  to  lock  up  her  lab.  As  she  was hanging  her  coat  on  its  hook,  she  heard  voices.
	Beverly  Connor   The wall she stood next to separated her of?ce from the crime lab. She knew that on the crime lab side of the wall  was a large  walk-in supply closet.  The voices seemed  to  be  coming  from  there.  The  wall  wasn't thick.  There  had  been  no  reason  to  make  it  sound­ proof  when  they  constructed  the  closet  as  part  of  the crime lab. Odd. The closet was not a place one usually held  conversations.
  Though slightly muf?ed, the voices were loud enough for  her  to  hear  some  of  the  words.  She  stopped  and listened  when  she  heard  Bryce's  high-pitched  speech pattern  and  another  voice  that  sounded  like  Curtis Crabtree's.
"...  apply  for . . .  job,  not  beat  him  up."
"I  didn't . . .  wasn't  taking  applications . .  ."
"...  you've  screwed . . .  up  now . .  ."
"Easy  to  ?x . .  ."
There  was  the  sound  of  a  door  opening.
"What the hell do you want?" Bryce's voice was no longer  in  hushed  tones.
"Oh,  sorry."  The  new  baritone  voice  was  David's.
"I  need  some  evidence  envelopes.  The  four-by-nine­ inch  size.  And  a  resupply  of  phenolphthalein  for  my blood  test  kit-here  we  go."
She  heard  some  rattling  of  supplies.
"We have more supplies in the cabinets if you can't ?nd  what  you're  looking  for,"  David  said.
"If  you  have  what  you  need,  go,"  said  Bryce.
"Sure  thing,"  she  heard  David  say,  and  the  door closed  again.
Diane smiled. She didn't have any doubt that David interrupted  them  on  purpose  just  to  make  Bryce  un­ comfortable.   She   immediately   frowned.   She   hoped David   wasn't   getting   reckless   in   his   dealings   with Bryce.  It  wasn't  like  David  to  be  reckless,  but  lately he'd  been  so  moody.  She  let  the  thought  slide.
Diane  stood  there,  reluctant  to  move,  not  wanting to  be  heard  near  the  wall.  For  several  moments  they said  nothing.  Then  Curtis  spoke.
"I  have  to  go . . .  later."
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
  She  heard  the  door  open  and  close-presumably leaving  Bryce  in  the  closet  by  himself.  The  oddity  of it brought another half smile to her lips. Strange. After a  moment  she  heard  the  door  open  and  close  again.
After  another  moment,  she  stepped  back  from  the wall  quietly.
Chapter 4
Diane was disturbed by Bryce and his employees, but it was nothing she could put her ?nger on. There was just something not right about the way Bryce was try­ ing  to  encroach  on  the  DNA  lab.  David  said  Bryce was  a  control  freak.  It  was  probably  nothing,  just  his aggressive,  slimy  personality.
If she was honest, she thought to herself, there was a  tiny  speck  of  truth  to  Bryce's  accusation.  She  had been angry when the new chief of police, Edgar Peeks, showed  up  with  no  warning  and  introduced  Bryce  as her replacement as director of the crime lab. But that was  three  months  ago  and  had  nothing  to  do  with Curtis Crabtree coming down to the DNA lab insisting on a job. Diane shook the nagging feelings as she left for  home.
Home.  That  was  another  change  in  Diane's  life  of late. Her neighbors had asked her to move out of her apartment  because,  through  no  fault  of  her  own,  too many  unsettling  and  sometimes  horri?c  things  had happened  there.  The  neighbors  had  been  awakened by  the  arrival  of  the  police  just  one  too  many  times, and   they   were   frightened.   Diane   understood   that.
Everyone  needs  peace  in  their  lives.
She  was  staying  with  Frank  Duncan  temporarily until she found herself a new place. Frank was a detec­ tive in the Metro-Atlanta Fraud and Computer Foren­ sics  Unit.  Atlanta  wasn't  far  from  Rosewood,  and Frank  drove  into  the  city  daily  to  work.  He  wanted her to move in with him permanently. She was think­ ing about it, but she was also thinking that she wanted her own house. Despite Frank's terri?c hospitality, she still felt like a guest. Somehow, coming into someone's house and using it as her own didn't seem right to her. However,  for  the  moment,  the  arrangement  was working  out  better  than  she  had  expected.  She  had gained  a measure  of  peace  in her  own  life by  moving in  with  Frank.  And  if  the  truth  be  known,  no  longer being director of the crime lab gave her time-a price­ less  commodity.  She  had  time  to  design  the  new  pri­ mate exhibit, she had more time to spend with Frank, she  was  learning  to  play  the  piano,  and  she'd  been caving three times this month alone. And she was even considering  getting  a  dog,  maybe  an  Irish  wolfhound or  a  Lab.  Life  was  good.  She  was  thinking  about  her good  life  as  she  turned  into  the  driveway.
  Frank's  house  was  a  Queen  Anne  set  back  from the road. It was a house much like Frank-traditional, reliable,  solid.  It  had  polished  hardwood  ?oors,  sand- colored walls, and oak and walnut furniture as substan­ tial  as  the  house  itself.  It  always  smelled  like  furniture polish  and always shined.
  Frank wasn't there when Diane arrived. He'd left a message on his answering machine saying he wouldn't be back until the following day. It wasn't uncommon- Frank traveled a lot in his job-but it was a shame; it was nice when they both got home early. Diane spent the evening watching the Sci Fi channel-that was also nice. Frank wasn't the science ?ction fan she was, and Diane would not subject him to a Star Trek marathon if  he  was  home.
Frank  called  just  before  Diane  got  into  bed.
"How  was  your  day?"  she  asked  as  she  snuggled into  the  softness  of  the  down  mattress.
"Good.  Love  putting  the  white-collar  guys  away.
They  never  expect  it.  I've  been  chasing  a  spate  of identity  theft   complaints.  Those  are  always   fun  to track down. And I got an Atlanta mortgage embezzler who's been  on the run  with a  few million of  his com­ pany's  money.  They  picked  him  up  in  Hawaii."
"Wonder why he  didn't go outside of  U.S. jurisdic­ tion  if  he  went  that  far,"  said  Diane.
Frank  started  laughing.  "He  thought  he  had."
"You're kidding?" Diane grinned as much at Frank's mirth as  at the  humor of the  failed escape.  She could just  see  his  eyes  crinkle  and  sparkle  as  he  laughed.
"I  kid  you  not.  It  made  my  day.  Another  good  an­ swer  for  all  those  kids  who  ask,  'Why  do  I  have  to learn  this?  I'll  never  use  it.'  So,  tell  me  about  your day."
Diane  told  him  about  the  progress  on  the  exhibits, but  not  about  the  bones  found  in  the  farmer's  ?eld.
Sliced-up   bones   weren't   a   conversation   topic   she wanted to have before she went to sleep. They talked for  almost  an  hour.  A  good  end  to  the  day.
  The  morning  brought  sunshine  and  sparkling  frost on  the  ground.  It  was  a  great  day  to  be  outside  and a great day to take the scenic route to work. It was a little  longer,  but  it  was  her  favorite  route,  especially in  the  morning  when  there  was  little  traf?c.  The  nar­ row  road  went  through  a  short  patch  of  woods  that were  beautiful  even  in  winter  when  most  of  the  trees were  bare  of  leaves.  The  trees  had  shades  of  bark that  ranged  from  dark  brown  to  tan  to  almost  white, interspersed  with  the  greenery  of  spruce,  cedar,  and magnolia trees. And you never knew when a doe and her fawn might be grazing along the roadway or dash­ ing  for  the  woods.
  As  she  drove,  Diane  listened  to  classical  music  on the  radio.  On  the  hour,  the  news  came  on,  and  she started to change stations but stopped when she heard that  the  ?rst  item  of  local  news  was  about  the  bones. She  frowned  as  the  anchor  described  it  as  the  wood- chipper  murder  and  told  of  the  crushed  bones  of  an unknown  victim  found  by  Rose  County  farmer  Arlen Wilson and his grandson. Sheriff Can?eld explained to a persistent reporter that the bones were only recently found and he didn't yet know whom they belonged to but  that  a  forensic  anthropologist  had  the  bones  and it  was  hoped  she  would  be  able  to  shed  light  on  the identity of the victim. Diane noticed that he was careful not  to  say  victims.  Rumors  of  more  than  one  wood- chipper  murder  would  become  a  nightmare.  The  re­ porter  asked  if  the  forensic  anthropologist  was  Diane Fallon  of  the  RiverTrail  Museum  of  Natural  History. Can?eld said yes. Diane frowned again. The last thing she  wanted  was  the  reporter  calling  her.
  The  interviewer  asked  the  sheriff  about  possible DNA, and he went into a lengthy explanation of DNA and  why  they  might  not  be  able  to  ?nd  any  in  the bones. Diane had to smile, listening to the lecture she had given him just yesterday. He must be having fun. She  was  about  halfway  to  the  museum  and  in  the deepest  part  of  the  wooded  area  when  she  saw  blue ?ashes  of  light  behind  her  and  the  intermittent  siren that  meant  to  pull  over.  She  found  a  wide  place  on the  side  of  the  road,  pulled  her  SUV  onto  the  shoul­ der, and waited with her hands on the steering wheel. She looked in her rearview mirror at the approaching of?cer.  She  knew  him.  Not  good.  It  was  Harve  Dela­ more,  and  he  was  grinning  like  he'd  just  caught  his biggest  ?sh  ever.
  Last year Douglas Garnett, the chief of detectives for the  city  of  Rosewood  and  Diane's  former  boss  when she was  head  of  the crime  scene unit,  had put  a repri­ mand in Delamore's ?le for overly aggressive behavior with a suspect. Diane had given a sworn statement as a  witness  to  the  incident.  Diane  was  not  Delamore's favorite  person.
He looked different than last time she'd seen him- a little leaner, and he'd shaved his head the way a lot of men do these days when they are going bald. Dela­ more  was  in  a  patrolman's  uniform.  It  was  a  summer uniform  even  though  the  temperature  had  been  near freezing  overnight.  The  term  hot-blooded  ?t  him,  she thought as he approached. The uniform meant he had been  demoted  from  his  rank  of  detective  for  some reason. Probably some additional offense. Harve didn't strike  her  as  a  man  who  learned  very  quickly.
  Damn,  he's  probably  going  to  be  in  a  mood,  she thought.  Probably  write  me  up  for  everything  he  can think  of.  Well,  damn.
  Diane  rolled  down  her  window  as  he  approached. She decided not to say anything until he spoke, asking for her driver's license, probably her insurance papers, probably  the  deed  to  the  museum.  She  really  didn't have  time for  this. She  knew her  brake lights  were in working  order;  she  hadn't  been  speeding;  there  had been no stop signs or red lights to run. He just wanted to  jerk  her  around.
  She  turned  her  head  toward  Of?cer  Delamore  as he bent down to the open window. Before she realized what  was  happening,  he'd  reached  through  the  win­ dow and grabbed her arm with one hand and opened the door with the other. He held her tight through the window  as  the  door  swung  open.  Diane  reached  be­ hind her, feeling for her cell phone in the center con­ sole. She got her ?ngers on it, but he jerked her hard toward  the  open  door  and  she  dropped  it.
  "Well, if it's not the bitch who messed up my life." His voice was a snarl and his face was twisted in some kind  of  weird  satis?ed  rage.
  She  was  pissed  herself.  "What  the  hell  are  you doing?"  Diane   screamed  at  him.  "Have   you  gone nuts?"  That  reprimand  was  a  year  ago.  What  had  set him  off  now?  she  wondered.
"Shut  up,  bitch."
Harve  reached  inside  the  open  door  and  dragged her out of the vehicle. Her cell phone clattered to the pavement. He looked down at it, smirked, and ground his  foot  onto  the  top  of  it.
"Uh-oh,  no  signal,"  he  said.
Diane  loved  this  road  because  she  was  usually  the only one  on it.  Now she prayed  for someone  to drive by.  But  no  one  did.  She  was  alone.
  "Harve,  think  about  what  you're  doing.  This  will ruin  you,"  said  Diane.
  "I  told  you  to  shut  up,  you  damn  stupid  bitch. You're  going  to  get  what's  coming  to  you."
  He  had  her  by  her  left  arm,  which  meant  she  had one arm and two legs free. She put them to good use. She kicked his shin hard, kneed him in the groin, and rammed the palm of her right hand into his nose with all  the  strength  she  could  summon.  He  didn't  see  it coming.  He  was  stunned  and  let  go,  and  she  jerked away. She had been lucky. She'd caught him off guard. It  wouldn't  happen  again.  She  had  to  get  away  from him.
  He  was  blocking  access  back  into  her  SUV,  so  she had   to   run.   She   sprinted   for   the   woods,   thinking maybe it was a mistake even as she did it. On the one hand,  someone  might  drive  by  and  see  her  if  she  ran down the road. On the other hand, he would just run her  down  with  his  car.
  Harve Delamore was a big guy, but he was all show muscle and not much real working muscle. That would be  helpful  if  she  were  male.  But  show  muscle  or  not, testosterone in the male gives muscles a spectacular ad­ vantage.  Harve  was  stronger  by  far  than  she  was.  But she had stamina, and she could run. Which she did-as fast  as  she  could.  Diane  could  run  long  distances,  and she had  another advantage. She  knew  these woods. There  was  one  big  problem  in  all  that  optimism. Harve had a gun. She thought he would be reluctant to shoot  her,  though;  he  wanted  to  hit  her.  She  saw  it  in his  eyes  when  he  held  her.  He  wanted  to  pound  his meaty ?st  into her  face. So  maybe  he  wouldn't  use  his gun.
  She was in the air, jumping over a fallen tree, when the  gunshot  roared  in  her  ears.  In  the  same  instant, pieces  of  bark  ?ew  off  a  tree  to  her  right.  He  was trying  to  scare  her.  Or  else  he  was  a  really  bad  shot. Right  now, either  one  would  do, as  long  as she  could keep  running.
  It was hard to shoot a moving target in these woods- lots  of  trees  to  get  in  the  way.  But  she  had  a  serious problem.  Males  run  fast  for  short  distances,  and  she didn't  have  enough  of  a  head  start.  Diane  ran  faster. She heard the sound of him gaining on her: heavy foot­ falls, limbs breaking, grunts and curses. She pushed her­ self  to  the  limit.
  He  was  close  behind  her.  His  breathing  was  heavy. He was getting out of breath. Good. She tried a sharp turn  to  throw  him  off  balance,  slow  him  down.  It didn't  work.  He  knocked  her  to  the  ground,  then pulled her up by her arm, breathing hard. He had his gun in his hand. He laid the barrel against her temple.
  "I've  got  you  now,  bitch,  and  there's  no  help.  This is  a  dead  end  for  you."
  Diane  kicked  and  hit  at  him  as  he  dragged  her through  the  woods.  He  turned  abruptly  and  hit  the side  of  her  head  with  the  barrel  of  his  gun.  Diane literally saw stars. Disoriented, she felt herself dragged deeper  into  the  woods,  away  from  the  highway.  She tried  to  keep  her  bearings.  She  heard  rock  crunching under  foot  and  felt  her  pants  snagging.  She  tried  to right  herself,  but  he  jerked  on  her  arm  and  she  fell again.  He  was  enjoying  dragging  her  over  the  rough terrain.
She  tried  to  calm  her  fear,  clear  her  head,  think  of a  plan.  She  didn't  ?ght.  If  he  knocked  her  out,  she was  done  for.  If  he  jerked  her  arm  out  of  the  socket, she  was  done  for.  She  thought  she  knew  where  she was, and that could be either good or bad. Harve came to  an  abrupt  stop.  Chances  were,  he  knew  where  he was  too,  and  apparently  he  thought  it  was  good  for his  purposes.
They were at Chulagee Gorge. It was a gouged-out drop of more than ?ve hundred feet formed by a river that  had  dried  up  eons  ago.  Mike,  Diane's  geology curator and caving partner, used the cliff face to teach rock climbing to members of the caving club. He said that  a  half  billion  years  ago,  the  quartzite  rock  here was  a  sandy  beach  on  the  coast  of  Laurentia  in  the Iapetus  Ocean,  which  sounded  to  Diane  like  a  place of  fantasy  or  science  ?ction.  She'd  liked  it.
  Mike  insisted  that  if  you  climb  a  rock  face  or  ex­ plore  a  cave  you  should  know  what  it's  made  of  and where it came from. Sometimes the caving club mem­ bers' eyes glazed over as they listened to the petrogen­ esis  of  the  rocks  they  were  waiting  to  climb.  But  one thing  Diane  remembered  from  his  lectures  was  that quartzite  is  very  hard.
  She had climbed parts of the cliff face many times- but always with safety ropes because of the great height. It  wasn't  a  particularly  dif?cult  climb.  There  were plenty of handholds and footholds in the quartzite and schist  formations.  But  it  was  nearly  impossible  if  you had  never  climbed  before.
Harve   Delamore   didn't   strike   Diane   as   a   rock climber.  Rock  climbing,  like  caving  and  scuba  diving, is  a  way  of  life.  You  have  to  do  it  a  lot  if  you  do  it at  all.  It's  dangerous  to  let  yourself  get  out  of  shape or  out  of  practice.  Diane  was  also  betting  that,  like many  bullies,  Harve  was  a  coward.  She  was  betting her  life  on  it.
There  was  the  gun  to  contend  with.  He  had  been holding  it  in  his  free  hand  while  he  dragged  her.  She watched  for  an  opportunity  and  tried  to  think  of  a way  to  take  it.  Getting  in  a  wrestling  match  with  him for  it  was  a  last  recourse,  but  it  might  come  to  that.
She would lose most likely, but with no other options, she  would  still  try  if  it  came  to  that.
Her  arm  and  shoulder  ached  from  being  gripped and  dragged, and  her head  hurt. She  pushed the  pain to  the  back  of  her  mind.  She'd  had  a  lot  of  practice doing that-pushing pain back until it was just an an­ noyance. Not even to mention the times she had been beat  up,  stabbed,  and  shot,  she'd  done  some  dif?cult caves and wrenched her muscles more than once. But you  have  to  keep  going.  You  can't  stop.
Diane  had  practice  putting  fear  in  the  back  of  her mind  too.  Every  caver  has  moments  of  panic  while caught  in  too  tight  a  squeeze,  or  becoming  lost- 	Beverly  Connor discovering  new  passages,  they  call  it-or  trapped  on unstable  ground.  You  learned  to  control  the  panic, make  the  surge  of  adrenaline  work  for  you.
  But the fear a maniac generates in you is something different.   Diane   found   humans   far   more   terrifying than anything nature had in store. It was a struggle to keep  the  dread  in  this  moment  from  overwhelming her.
  Delamore  pulled  her  to  the  very  edge  of  the  preci­ pice. Her fear redoubled as she realized his intent. He was  going  to  throw  her  into  the  gorge-perhaps  after beating  her  or  shooting  her,  or  God  knew  what  he had  in  mind.
  She  struggled.  He  slapped  her  across  the  cheek.  She stood with her back to the drop-off, her heels at the edge. She  could  hear  the  wind  whistling  up  from  the  depths below. This wasn't the plan she had in mind.
With  a  devilishly  evil  look  in  his  eyes,  he  gave  her a  sudden  push  backward.  She  was  off  balance;  she couldn't stop herself. She was going to fall. This was it.
He  grabbed  her  wrist  and  pulled  her  back  to  him.
It was so quick, it made her reel. She grabbed at him with  both  hands.  He  laughed.
"Oops,  almost  fell.  Be  careful,"  he  said.  His  voice dripped  with  mock  concern.
He  pushed  again.  And  again  pulled  her  back.
"Uh-oh,  you're  going  to  fall."
Again  his  shove  pitched  Diane  out  over  the  chasm with  only  her  feet  on  the  edge  and  his  hand  around her  wrist,  her  other  hand  grabbing  on  to  his  arm.  He pulled  her  back.
"It's  a  long  drop  down.  Sure  you're  up  to  it?"  He laughed.
It  was  clear  he  intended  to  torture  her  with  fear.
But one of these times he was going to let go or mis­ calculate,  and  she  would  be  gone.
Diane  had  an  idea,  but  she  had  to  put  it  in  motion before he tired of his game. If he pushed hard enough and  she  couldn't  grab  on  to  him  or  on  to  something, she  would  die.  No  chance  of  catching  hold  of  some­
SCATTERED  GRAVES	 thing  on  the  way  down.  What  would  make  him  con­ tinue  the  game?
Ross Kingsley, her FBI pro?ler friend, said positive reinforcement-a  reward-will  continue  a  behavior.
But the catch is, what does the perp consider positive reinforcement? She knew immediately what Delamore wanted,  and  she  loathed  the  thought  of  giving  it  to him.  Harve  Delamore  wanted  to  hear  fear,  to  hear her  begging.  That  would  be  his  reinforcer.
"Look,  please  stop  this,"  she  said.  "Please."
It rather shocked Diane that she was having a hard time  pleading,  even  for  her  life.  What  on  earth  did that  say  about  her  priorities?  She  inched  to  her  left and  pleaded  again.
"Not  such  a  big  deal  now,  are  you?"  he  said.
He pushed her again and pulled her back. This time Diane  dropped  to  her  knees.
"Better  watch  out,"  he  said.  "It's  a  long,  long  way down."  He  laughed.
"Please  stop  this.  Please,  you're  scaring  me,"  she said.
Diane  had  seen  a  possible  weapon  on  the  ground, and  now  it  was  under  her  hand  while  she  was  on  her knees  begging  for  her  life.  A  hard  piece  of  quartzite.
Jagged  edges.  He  pulled  her  to  her  feet.
"Please,  please,  please,"  he  mocked  her.  "Come  on, beg  me,  you  damn  bitch.  I  want  to  hear  you  beg  some more."
Diane struck his gun hand as hard as she could with the   jagged   rock.   She   struck   and   struck   again   and slashed in quick succession-three times before the gun slipped out of his hand, bounced off his foot, and dis­ appeared  over  the  edge  and  into  the  gorge.
Chapter 5
The gun was gone, but Harve Delamore still held her arm tight in his grip. He was stunned and in pain, and he  was  furious.  Diane  was  quick.  Before  he  could  hit her  with  his  free  hand,  she  slammed  the  rock  down on the wrist of the hand that held her arm. He yelled and  let  go  of  her,  but  pushed  her  backward  in  anger. She  had  expected  that,  though;  she  fell  to  her  knees immediately  to  keep  herself  upright  as  she  slid  over the  edge  of  the  cliff.
  She dropped in a free fall through the air, preparing herself  for  what  she  knew  was  below.  Eight  feet  or more down the side of the cliff, she landed solidly on a  sloped  ledge  where  the  rock  protruded  from  the sheer  face  of  the  cliff.   The  momentum  caused  by Harve's push sent her scrambling to ?nd purchase. She shifted  her  weight  forward  and  fell  to  her  hands,  not hard,  but  enough  to  let  her  grab  the  rock  and  stop her  descent  as  she  slid  toward  the  edge.
  "I  guess  you're  in  trouble  now,  bitch.  That'll  teach you  to  mess  with  me,"  Harve  yelled  down  at  her.
"What's  going  to  happen  to  you  now,  huh?  There's nobody  gonna  come  to  your  rescue."
  Diane  ignored  him.  She  pulled  herself  back  on  the ledge and took the time to scuff the soles of her shoes on the rock to dislodge any detritus and loose pebbles that had accumulated from her trek through the woods. Thank God she didn't have on heels or leather-bottom shoes.  She  rubbed  her  hands  on  the  surface  of  the rock  and  then  on  her  clothes,  trying  to  remove  the sweat. More episodes like this and she would need to start  carrying  a  chalk  bag  in  her  pocket,  she  thought wryly.  She  took  off  her  jacket  to  give  herself  more range  of  motion.  It  dropped  into  the  ravine.
  She  started  climbing  down,  looking  ?rst  for  places to  plant  both  feet  before  she  moved.  She'd  climbed this very spot many times before. She knew where the footholds and handholds were, and that helped her to go  more  quickly.
But  Mike  told  them  never  to  get  cocky  with  rock.
"It  can  change  from  weathering,  microschisms.  You still  have  to  test  your  holds.  Don't  expect  them  to  be stable  because  they  were  the  last  time  you  climbed."
She  wasn't  being  cocky  with  the  rock,  but  it  was critical that she hurry. Delamore would do something.
She  found  her  footing  and  descended  inch  by  inch  as fast  as  her  level  of  con?dence  let  her.  Rock  climbing was slow work-at least for her-and she could hurry only so much. Her ?rst goal was to get space between the  top  of  the  cliff  and  herself  in  case  Harve  decided to  climb  down  after  her.  But  surely  he  won't,  she thought.  With  her  luck,  though,  he  would  probably turn  out  to  be  a  closet  climber.
"Where  do  you  think  you're  going?"  yelled  Harve.
The slope of the rock changed at the bottom of the ledge.  She  braced  her  feet  against  the  rock  face,  lo­ cated  her  handholds,  and  gently  swung  down  under the  ledge,  catching  the  vertical  surface  with  the  balls of  her  feet,  bracing  herself,  then  moving  each  hand.
Rock  climbing  has  a  rhythm  to  it.  To  Diane  it  was not  so  different  from  music.  Each  change  in  slope  of rock,  each  ?ssure,  horn,  corner,  handhold,  foothold, and overhang had its own cycle of movement. A twist in  the  hips  could  make  the  difference  in  a  successful grip.  When  all  the  pieces  were  taken  together,  it  was almost  a  dance.
"Hey,  you  talk  to  me,  you  damn  bitch.  Where  do you think you're going?" he yelled again. He sounded genuinely  puzzled,  as  if  she  had  taken  ?ight  or  some­ thing  equally  unexpected  and  impossible.  "You  come back  here,"  he  demanded.
Yeah,  right,  thought  Diane.
She rarely climbed solo, certainly not on a rock face this high. It was dangerous without the safety of rope.
Diane was good with rope. She liked it; she knew how to manipulate it,  tie it. Rope was good.  Hanging with her  bare  hands  on  the  side  of  a  cliff,  she  wasn't  so sure  about.  But  she  had  judged  Harve  Delamore  to be more dangerous than the rocks. She kept the level of  the  risk  from  her  thoughts,  reminding  herself  that she   had   climbed   this   face   many   times-albeit   on rope-and  she  had  never  fallen.  She  was  lucky  he'd dragged  her  to  this  section  of  the  gorge.  There  were other places on the cliff face that she could not climb.
Diane   continued   inching   her   way   down,   always being  careful.  You  feel  the  full  weight  of  the  laws  of physics on the side of a rock face. Concepts like grav­ ity  and  equal  and  opposite  reaction  suddenly  become very  real.
A  rock  the  size  of  a  melon  bounced  off  the  slope beside her. Harve was throwing boulders at her. Well, shit. She glanced up. She could see him grinning even from  a  distance.
She  climbed  to  her  right,  where  the  slope  of  the rock  would  give  her  a  measure  of  shelter.  It  was  a harder  climb,  but  she  couldn't  survive  a  hit  from  a rock. Another one  the size of her head  bounced near her,  breaking  on  impact.  At  least  he  wasn't  a  good shot. Diane braced her feet and found her handholds.
She slowly moved to a safer place as the rocks rained around her from above. He was throwing anything he could  ?nd,  as  if  he  suddenly  did  believe  there  was  a possibility  she  might  get  away  from  him.
Diane found a place under a ledge where she could stop  and  rest.  She  heard  him  yelling  but  couldn't  un­ derstand what he was saying, though she did hear the word bitch a couple of times. She looked for footholds.
They  were  harder  to  ?nd  in  this  route,  and  her  shoes weren't  the  best  for  climbing,  but  they  did  hold  trac­ tion  better  than  she  had  expected.  Her  muscles  felt good  at  the  moment-the  stretching  and  exertion  al­ ways felt good. She'd been afraid Harve had sprained her arm, jerking her around the way he had, but other than being sore, it seemed ?ne. This would work after all.  She  started  moving  again,  putting  one  hand  in  a crack and another on a protrusion of rock. She pushed on  the  rock  with  one  foot,  ?nding  a  toehold  with  the other.
  As  she  moved  along,  she  began  hearing  scraping sounds overhead. What now? she thought. She turned her head  and looked up,  but her view  was obstructed by  an  overhang.  She  stopped  and  listened.  He  was climbing  down.  The  crazy  bastard  was  climbing  down the  rocks.
  She  started  descending  again.  After  several  feet, Harve  came  into  sight.  He  was  making  his  way  down a  large  crevice  between  the  ledge  she  had  climbed down  from  and  the  adjacent  rock.  It  looked  to  the untrained  eye  like  an  easier  route,  but  it  was  decep­ tive. It was dif?cult to prevent your feet from becom­ ing  wedged  in  the  crevice.
  "Are  you  nuts?"  Diane  yelled  at  him.  "You  can't climb  down  here."
"Scared,  little  girl?"  he  shouted.
"You should be scared. You're not a rock climber," she  yelled  back.
"How  do  you  know?  I  do  this  every  weekend,"  he sneered.
"No,  you  don't,"  Diane  said  under  her  breath.  "I know  all  the  climbers  and  cavers."
She  wondered  whether  he  had  a  backup  gun.  No, he  would  have  used  that  instead  of  throwing  rocks.
"If  you  can  do  this,  I  can,"  he  shouted.
So  that  was  it,  she  thought.  He  wasn't  going  to  let a girl best him. Well, he was wrong. Diane was in her element.   She   felt   calmer   than   she   had   since   he'd dragged  her  out  of  her  vehicle.
She  moved  horizontally  on  the  rock  face,  heading toward an easier path. A few feet from her was a slab of rock that looked vaguely like a sheep's head plastered sideways   against   the   cliff.   Climbers   called   it   Ram Rock. It had several creases and protrusions that were like  features-eyes,  a  nose,  an  ear,  and  a  horn.  All made easy hand- and footholds. She had it in her mind now  to  climb  back  up  to  the  top  and  run  for  her  car, since  Harve  was  down  here.
  "I  played  football,"  he  yelled.  "I  could've  gone pro."
  He sounded closer. She looked over at him. He was perhaps twenty feet to her left and above her position. He was working his way down the crevice and having a  dif?cult  time,  going  too  fast.
"Did you play ball on a vertical ?eld?" said Diane.
He  didn't  respond.  She  watched  as  his  foot  slipped and  slid  down  the  crack.  He  grabbed  at  the  rock.  He stopped with a jerk when the crack widened to a tiny ledge.  He  looked  startled,  then  scared.  After  a  few moments  he  apparently  thought  he  was  safe,  because he  grinned  at  Diane.  He  pulled  a  knife  out  of  his belt and pointed it at Diane, making small circles with the  blade.
"You don't have time for that," said Diane, calmly.
"You  need  both  your  hands."
"I'll  teach  you  to  fuck  with  me,"  he  said.
Then  he  looked  down.  He  shouldn't  have.  Below them at the bottom of the gorge was an old car some­ one had long ago pushed off the edge of the cliff into the canyon. At this height it looked like a child's toy.
The  tops  of  tall  pine  trees  swayed  in  the  wind  four hundred  feet  below  them.
Diane  saw  his  face  change.  He  grew  pale,  his  eyes widened, and she knew his pupils were dilating. It hap­ pened  so  fast.  He  was  panicking.
Harve hugged the rock, not moving. Diane thought she  heard  him  moan.
"Stay calm," she shouted. "Don't let go of the rock.
Hold  on  with  both  hands."  Why  am  I  helping  him? she  thought.  Let  the  bastard  fall.
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
He  whimpered.
"Breathe  slowly  and  evenly,"  said  Diane.
"Help  me,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  voice.  "Help  me."
  Diane had seen people panic on the rocks, but they were  tied  to  ropes.  If  his  panic  got  out  of  control,  he would  free-fall  to  the  bottom.
  "Harve,  listen  to  me.  You're  standing  on  a  small ledge. You can stand there for  a long time until I get help.  Try  to  stay  calm."
"I  can't,"  he  whimpered.
What  a  change,  she  thought.
"Concentrate on holding on. Don't look down," said Diane. "Look up. Look how close you are to the top."
Harve brought his gaze around and looked up. They were  no  more  than  ?fty  feet  down.  He  whimpered again.  It  must  look  impossible  to  him.  She  was  sure the tension in his muscles that panic brought was mak­ ing  them  ache.
"Listen  to  me,  Harve.  Breathe  more  slowly.  Relax just  a  little  bit.  You're  in  a  good  place.  You  have  a place  to  stand.  Just  stand  there  and  I'll  get  help."
"I  can't,"  he  whimpered.
"Yes, you can. Concentrate on something else. Why did  you  come  after  me?"
Harve was silent for a long moment, and Diane re­ peated  the  question.
Silence  again.  He  wasn't  talking.
"Harve,  can  you  talk?"  she  asked.
Harve  squeezed  his  eyes  shut.  "Oh,  God,  oh,  God, oh,  God,"  he  whispered.
"Breathe," she said. "In and out. You are in a good place.  You  could  stay  there  all  day  if  you  had  to."
He was paying attention. His breathing didn't sound so  ragged.
"You  sound  good.  Just  keep  calm.  Panic  is  your enemy,  not  me.  When  you  panic,  you're  in  trouble," said Diane. "When you feel better, I'm going to go to call  for  help.  Rescue  will  come  and  get  you  out  of here,  but  you  have  to  hang  on."
	Beverly  Connor   "You'd  like  that,  wouldn't  you?"  he  said.  "Have me  waiting  here  while  you go  get  help.  Pretending  to be  my  friend."
  "I'm  not  pretending  to  be  your  friend.  Obviously we aren't friends. But I don't want you to die out here either,"  said  Diane.
  He  looked  up,  apparently  reassessing  his  situation, deciding  maybe  he  could  climb  back  up  after  all.
  "I'm not going to die. You  are." He took aim with his  knife,  preparing  to  throw.
"Don't  do  that,"  shouted  Diane.
He  grinned,  reared  back,  and  threw  the  knife  hard at  Diane.
Chapter 6
Diane   ?attened   herself   against   the   rock   face   and watched  in  horror  as  the  knife  whizzed  in  a  spinning blur toward her. She had no way to dodge it, nowhere to go. She threw one arm up in a defensive move just as the deadly blade struck the  rock next to her abdo­ men  and  glanced  off  her  waist.
  The  sudden  move,  the  twisting  of  his  body  from throwing the knife, had shifted Harve's center of grav­ ity,  spoiled  his  aim,  and  left  him  struggling  to  hold himself  upright.  The  laws  of  physics  are  hell  when you're  balanced  precariously.  His  grip  slipped  on  the rock.  His  arms  ?ailed  wildly,  and  his  foot  became caught  in  the  crack.  Diane  heard  the  ankle  break  as his  body  fell  backward,  head?rst,  his  foot  trapped  in the  ?ssure.  He  screamed,  hung  there  for  a  moment; then  his  foot  slipped  from  the  crack  and  he  fell  ?ve hundred feet to the bottom of the gorge. Diane didn't look.  There  was  no  way  he  could  survive;  there  was nothing  on  the  way  down  that  would  break  his  fall, nothing to grab on to, no help, no hope. Diane winced when  she  heard  the  thump  of  his  body  impacting  on the  rocks  at the  bottom.  She  felt sorry  for  him,  living his  last  moments  in  terror.
  She didn't move for several long moments. She felt drained,  her  energy  gone  with  Harve.  Her  heart  beat faster  and  she  felt  sick.  She  couldn't  throw  up.  Not here. After a couple  of minutes, her nausea subsided, her  head  cleared,  and  she  moved  again.  She  climbed over  to  Ram  Rock  and  up  to  the  top.  It  was  an  easy climb  for  her.
  She  walked  to  her  car  to  call  for  help.  Her  cell  lay on  the  pavement,  smashed  beyond  use.  She  walked back to Harve's vehicle and called dispatch on his po­ lice  radio.
"Who  is  this?"  the  female  voice  interrupted.
"Diane  Fallon,"  she  said.
"You're  a  civilian.  You  aren't  allowed  to  use  this channel,"  the  voice  said.
Diane  started  to  tell  her,  Okay,  I'll  go  to  the  mu­ seum  up  the  road  and  call  911.  "I'm  trying  to  re­ port-"
"Ma'am,  you  have  to  get  off  this  channel.  Where are  you  calling  from?"
"A   police   car.   I   don't   know   the   number,"   said Diane.  "It  belongs  to  Harve  Delamore."
"Where  is  the  of?cer?"  said  the  dispatcher.
"He's  dead.  He  fell  into  Chulagee  Gorge,"  said Diane.
"Where  are  you?"  the  dispatcher  asked.
Diane  gave  her  location.  She  got  out  of  the  police car  and  walked  to  her  own  vehicle,  climbed  in,  and locked the doors. She was shivering, so she started the engine  and  turned  on  the  heater.  She  looked  in  the rearview   mirror   at   herself.   Her   face   was   a   puffy, blood-smeared  mess.  Her  blackened  eye  was  swollen half shut. Her hair was in tangles, blotched with dried blood.  She  suddenly  felt  the  way  she  looked.  She  put her  forearms  on  the  steering  wheel,  rested  her  head gently  on  them,  and  waited.
It  wasn't  long  before  she  heard  the  sirens,  faint  at ?rst, then growing louder and louder-coming in high volume  to  the  rescue  of  a  downed  of?cer.
Diane  didn't  move  until  she  heard  a  knock  on  her window.  She  jumped.  It  reminded  her  of  how  all  this had  started.  She  didn't  have  the  strength  to  do  it again.  This  time  she  wouldn't  roll  down  the  window.
She lifted her head. It was Izzy Wallace. She smiled wanly  and  rolled  her  window  down,  glad  to  see  a friendly  face.  Izzy  looked  at  her.
"What the hell happened?" he asked. "Wait a min­ ute.  I'll  come  around."
He  picked  up  the  smashed  cell  phone  and  looked at it, worry on his face. He walked around and got in the  passenger  side  of  Diane's  red  SUV.
Diane  explained  all  the  events  of  the  morning- from being pulled over by Harve Delamore to the fall.
"So  he's  at  the  bottom  of  the  ravine?"  said  Izzy.
"Yes. His gun is down there somewhere. I knocked it  out  of  his  hand.  His  knife  is  down  there  too.  So  is my  jacket.  My  billfold  with  my  driver's  license  is  in it,"  she  said.
"We  need  to  go  to  the  police  station,  and  you  will have  to  give  a  statement  again.  We  need  to  take  a picture  of  you  too.  You  look  like  hell,"  he  said.
Diane looked at her face again in the rearview mirror.
Her left eye was black and swollen, and she had a huge bruise  from  her eye  to  her  jawline.  And  there  was  the blackening  dried  blood.  She  looked  at  her  mouth  and her teeth. Thank  God,  her teeth  weren't damaged.
"I  didn't  think  he  would  come  out  on  the  rocks,"
Diane said. "If you've never climbed before, it's scary.
I  thought  I  could  get  away  from  him  that  way."
"Harve  never  had  the  best  judgment,"  said  Izzy.
"You  know  there's  going  to  be  some  who  will  blame you."
"I know. Does he have a family? A wife and kids?" asked  Diane.  "Are  his  parents  still  living?"
"He  has  an  ex-wife.  They  didn't  have  any  kids.  I think  his  parents  are  dead.  He  has  a  brother  some­ where.  I  don't  think  they  got  along."
"That's  sad,"  said  Diane.
  Izzy  escorted  Diane  into  the  police  station,  took  a picture of her and her face, and walked her to one of the  interview  rooms.
"This  won't  take  long,"  he  said.
  Janice Warrick walked in and frowned at her. "You look  awful.  Have  you  been  to  a  doctor?"
  Before  Diane  could  answer,  Curtis  Crabtree  came in  with  a  patrolman  and  told  Janice  to  leave.
  "I caught this case," said Janice. She looked at each of them. The large frown line between her eyes deepened.
"The  chief  is  taking  it,"  Curtis  said.
The patrolman had thin light brown hair that looked slightly  windblown.  His  name  tag  said  he  was  Of?cer Pendleton.  Of  the  two,  he  looked  the  most  angry- and  grief  stricken.  Izzy  had  said  Delamore's  friends would  blame  her.
Neither  said  anything.  They  just  stood  against  the wall across from her, staring. Diane was surprised that Curtis  was  there.  Perhaps  like  Neva,  he  was  a  police of?cer or a detective before he was recruited to work in the crime scene unit. Like any new broom, the new mayor  had  done  a  lot  of  sweeping.  Diane  was  one  of the  people  he'd  swept  out.  In  the  wake,  new  people were hired. There were many in the police department now  that  she  didn't  know.
Diane didn't say anything either. She sat and waited, hoping  it  wouldn't  be  too  long.  She  ached  all  over, and  her  head  throbbed  where  Delamore  had  hit  her.
She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands.
She  hoped  that  frustrated  them-her  not  being  able to  see  them  stare  at  her.
The door suddenly opened, and Edgar Peeks, Mayor Jefferies' new chief of police, burst into the room. He had  dark  hair,  hazel  eyes,  and  almost  a  baby  face, were it not for the day-old beard he seemed to always wear-perhaps  because  he  had  such  a  baby  face.
He pulled up a chair and sat opposite Diane, glaring at  her  for  several  moments.
"You  are  in  a  lot  of  trouble,"  he  said.
Diane  said  nothing;  she  simply  gazed  back  at  him thinking that, no, she wasn't in trouble; the police de­ partment  was-one  of  their  of?cers  just  went  berserk and  tried  to  kill  her.
"Have  you  nothing  to  say?"  he  asked.
  "You  haven't  asked  a  question,"  said  Diane.  She was  wondering  why  she  was  being  treated  as  a  perp instead of a victim. "I told the policeman on the scene what  happened."
  "We're  not  going  to  forget  that  you're  responsible for  Harve's  death,"  Pendleton  said.  He  had  his  ?sts curled,  like  he  wanted  to  ?ght.
  Diane wondered how "not forgetting" was going to manifest itself. Were Delamore's friends going to stalk her?  Pull  her  over  every  time  they  saw  her?  What?
  "How  do  you  think  I  am  responsible?"  she  asked him.
"He's  dead  because  of  you,"  said  Pendleton.
"How?" repeated Diane. "I  tried to get away from him. He shot at me, beat my face in, tried to push me off  the  cliff,  and  tried  to  kill  me  with  rocks  and  a knife.  All  the  while,  I  was  trying  to  get  away.  If  you blame  me  because  I  wouldn't  die,  then  you  need  to seriously  rethink  your  values.  I'm  sorry  you  lost  a friend.  Truly  I  am.  But  I  did  not  push  him  or  in  any way entice him to follow me out onto the cliff. He did that all  by himself in  an effort  to harm me.  Now, I'm really  too  tired  for  this."
She  started  to  rise.
"You aren't going anywhere," said Peeks, "until we get  some  answers."
"Then  ask  me  questions,"  she  said.  Diane  put  a hand  on  her  throbbing  head  and  closed  her  eyes  for a  second.
Peeks looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected co­ operation,  as  if  he  would  have  preferred  to  hammer some  kind  of  confession  out  of  her  instead.
"You  said  he  was  on  the  cliff  when  he  fell.  Why was  he  there?"  asked  Peeks.
"He was there because I was. He was chasing me."
I  thought  we  covered  this,  she  thought.
"On the side of the cliff?  Are you saying you were running from him on the side of the cliff in Chulagee Gorge?  See,  that  doesn't  make  sense."  Peeks  looked back  at  Curtis  and  Pendleton,  who  were  standing  be­
	Beverly  Connor hind  him  near  the  wall.  "Does  that  make  sense  to you  guys?"
  "It  doesn't  make  sense  to  me,"  said  Pendleton. Diane was wondering if they thought she lured him out  to  the  cliffs  and  threw  him  over  the  edge.  Did they not remember how big he was compared to her? Curtis  said  nothing,  just  stood  smiling,  as  if  he  was enjoying  himself.  Actually,  of  the  three  of  them,  he looked  the  most  friendly.
  "Why would you go there? Do you know how steep that  cliff  is?"  said  Peeks.
"It's  a  ?ve  point  seven,"  said  Diane.
The three of them looked blank, startled, and clearly puzzled.
"What?"  Peeks  said.
"You  asked me  if I  know how  steep it  is.  I assume you were asking me about the degree of climbing dif­
?culty.  So,  yes,  I  know."
Diane  realized  why  they  didn't  believe  her  story.
They  didn't  think  that  she,  in  her  nice  azure  pantsuit and  Hush  Puppies,  would  climb  out  onto  the  side  of a steep cliff-or anybody would for that matter. They had  a  point.
"I've  climbed  that  cliff  many  times,"  said  Diane.
"I'm a caver and I do a lot of rock climbing. I thought if  I  went  out  on  the  cliff,  he  wouldn't  follow.  I  was wrong. He thought that if I could do it, he could too, especially  since  he  was  an  ex-football  player.  That's what  he  was  doing  out  there.  He  didn't  fall  from  the top.  He  wasn't  pushed.  He  was  about  ?fty  feet  down on the face of the cliff, coming after me. He panicked and fell. I was twenty feet away from him at the time."
"You said he panicked," Pendleton said after a mo­ ment.  "He  just  suddenly  panicked?  Why?"
"He looked down," said Diane. "Rock climbing isn't a  sport  he  had  experience  in.  We  were  almost  ?ve hundred feet up on the side of a cliff. He didn't realize how frightening it would be when he looked down. It happens.  I  tried  to  talk  him  out  of  the  panic."
"You told Of?cer Wallace that he attacked you. Now, SCATTERED  GRAVES	 why  would  Of?cer  Delamore  do  a  thing  like  that?" asked  Peeks.
"I have no idea. He didn't say. He just kept calling me  a  bitch,"  said  Diane.
Peeks leaned forward, glaring at Diane. "You know, I'm  having  a  hard  time  buying  your  story,"  he  said.
"There's a lot of holes in it. A lot of holes. And you're going  to  stay  here  until  you  ?ll  them."  He  was  al­ most  shouting.
"I don't think so," said Diane. She rose, and Peeks started to reach for her when the door to the interview room  opened.
"I  don't  think  so  either."
Chapter 7
Colin Prehoda, the museum's lawyer, came in and took a  serious,  considered  look  at  Diane.
"Have  you  seen  a  doctor?"  he  asked.
"No.  I've  not  been  allowed  to  leave,"  she  said.
Curtis and Pendleton stepped forward. Peeks jumped up.  For  a  moment  Diane  thought  the  three  of  them were  going  to  attack  her  lawyer.
Prehoda  was  taller  than  all  of  them  in  the  room, and  heavier.  He  wasn't  overweight,  or  even  slightly chubby; he was just a big man. Diane thought he was probably  very  imposing  in  court.
"You're  leaving  now,"  he  said.
"I've  got  a  dead  of?cer,"  said  Peeks.
"Who  attacked  my  client,"  said  Prehoda.  "Do  you know  why  he  did  that?"
"She  hasn't  told  us,"  said  Peeks,  staring  at  Diane with  puzzling  hatred.
"I  told  them  I  don't  know  why  he  attacked  me," said  Diane.
"There you have it. She's given you all the informa­ tion  she  has.  Now  she  is  going  to  the  hospital.  If  you have  any  more  questions,  you  can  contact  me."
Prehoda  helped  Diane  out  of  the  chair  and  guided her  toward  the  door.  Peeks  didn't  try  to  stop  them, but  his  face  was  dark  with  anger.
"This  isn't  over,"  he  said  to  Diane.  "Don't  think you  are  free  of  this,  and  don't  think  any  of  us  are going  to  let  this  go  until  we  get  to  the  bottom  of  it."
  "Good,"  said  Prehoda.  "We  expect  to  be  fully  in­ formed  of  your  ?ndings  as  to  why  an  of?cer  of  this police  department  conducted  unprovoked  assaults  with the use of deadly force upon my client, whom, I remind you,  is  an  of?cer  of  the  court  in  good  standing.  And  I must  warn  you  against  harassing  her.  I  won't  tolerate it, and I'm sure you have more pressing concerns than appearing  in  court.  Don't  think  that  I'm  bluf?ng.  I think  you  know  me  better  than  that."
  Prehoda  led  Diane  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the police  building.  Diane  could  feel  the  stares  as  she passed  through  the  station.  She  also  noticed  that  not all of them were hostile. Outside, Prehoda walked her to  his  car.
"I'd  prefer  to  go  to  the  museum,"  said  Diane.
"I'm  sure  you  would,  but  we  need  to  take  you  to the ER. Not just for your safety, but for legal issues," he  said.
Diane  got  in  and  saw  that  her  jacket  was  in  the front  seat  along  with  her  purse.
"Who  called  you?"  she  asked.
"Garnett,"  he  said.
Douglas  Garnett  was  the  chief  of  detectives.  Diane knew  he  was  having  a  dif?cult  time  with  the  new  ad­ ministration. She hoped this didn't put him further on their bad side. She assumed that either Janice or Izzy had  alerted  him.
Colin  took  Diane  to  the  hospital.  She  didn't  have to  wait  long  to  be  seen.  After  a  lot  of  examining, blood taking, prodding, and a head X-ray, the doctors pronounced  her  ?ne.  She  thought  she  was.  She  was sore  but  didn't  feel  seriously  injured.
Diane  didn't  know  Chief  of  Police  Peeks,  and  his hostility  toward  her  was  puzzling.
"What's  going  on?"  she  asked  Colin  as  he  drove her  to  the  museum.
"I don't know," he said. "The mayor and the people he's picked are giving a lot of people trouble, particu­ larly  in  the  police  department.  Garnett  has  asked  me to  handle  appeals  of  several  ?rings.  He  suspects  that he  himself  is  going  to  be  replaced  soon."
  "Mayor  Jefferies  does  seem  to  be  blitzkrieging  his way through the government, doesn't he?" said Diane.
  "That's the word  for it. Neither he nor  Peeks gives notice.  They  just  show  up  and  ?re,"  he  said.
  Diane  told  Colin  about  Curtis  Crabtree  appearing unannounced  at  the  DNA  lab  and  demanding  a  job.
  "I've  noticed  that  Jefferies  has  an  inordinate  need for  control,"  said  Colin.  He  grinned  suddenly.  "Did you  know  that  he  and  Peeks  both  wear  pinky  rings embossed  with  the  pro?le  of  Alexander  the  Great?" Diane smiled and it hurt. "No, I didn't know that." She shook her head at the thought. "How sophomoric." Colin had arranged for her car to be brought to the museum. It sat in her parking space as they drove up. Diane  looked  at  the  people  ?owing  in  and  out  of  the museum  and  asked  Colin  to  take  her  around  back.
"I  don't  want  to  scare  away  the  visitors,"  she  said.
"Do  you  have  a  change  of  clothes  in  your  of?ce?" he  asked.
"Yes,  and  a  shower.  I'll  be  ?ne.  Thanks  for  the rescue,"  she  said.
He  drove  around  to  the  rear  of  the  museum  and Diane  started  to  get  out.
"Can  we  get  the  crime  lab  out  of  the  museum?" she  asked.  "I'd  really  like  to  reclaim  the  real  estate."
"I'll look at the contract. Right now, I'd have to say no,  not  until  the  contract  expires.  But  maybe  I  can get  creative."
Diane thanked him again and got out at the loading dock. From there it was a short distance to the private entrance  to  her  of?ce.
  Diane  showered,  washed  her  hair,  dressed  in  clean clothes,  and  was  about  as  refreshed  as  she  was  going to  get.  She  took  a  couple  of  aspirin  to  dull  the  pain and walked  to her assistant  Andie's of?ce  and waited for  the  reaction.
  "Oh, God. What happened?" Andie's eyes were so wide, Diane could see the whites all around her irises.
"Your  face . . .  What  happened?  Are  you  all  right?
You  better  sit  down."
Mike,  the  museum's  geology  curator  and  Diane's caving partner, was there. He and Andie stared open- mouthed  at  her.  She  had  tried  makeup  but  washed  it off.  Maybe  theatrical  makeup,  she  thought.
"I was passing the path to the gorge and I thought, what  the  heck,  I'll  do  a  little  solo  climbing  before  I go  to  the  museum,"  she  said.
Mike  took  her  hands  and  looked  at  the  scraped ?ngers.
"You  did?"  His  voice  was  ?lled  with  such  incredu­ lity  that  Diane  almost  laughed.
He   looked   at   her,   amazed,   obviously   unable   to make  sense  of  why  Diane  would  go  climbing  in  her street  clothes,  alone-not  sure  if  she  was  joking,  and wondering  how  she'd  gotten  so  beat  up.
"What  did  happen?"  asked  Andie.
Diane  explained  the  episode  with  Delamore,  trying to keep it objective, but she suddenly felt more shaken than  she'd  realized.  She  sat  down  on  the  sofa  and hoped  they  didn't  notice  how  suddenly  weak  on  her feet  she  was.
"I've  been  at  the  police  station,  then  the  hospital ever  since,"  she  said.
"Oh,  my  God,"  said  Andie.  "I  was  a  little  worried when  I  couldn't  get  you  on  your  cell."
"Delamore   stomped   it   into   the   pavement,"   said Diane.
"He  tried  to  kill  you?"  said  Mike.  "He  hit  you?"
Mike  sat  down  on  the  stuffed  chair  next  to  the  sofa.
He reached over and touched her face with his ?nger­ tips,  then  let  his  hand  drop.
"I'm  ?ne.  I've  looked  worse  after  we've  been  cav­ ing,"  she  said.
"No,  you  haven't,"  said  Mike.
Thanks,  she  thought.
"Can  I  do  anything  to  help?"  he  asked.
"You've  helped  immeasurably  already.  Thanks  for insisting  that  I  learn  more  about  rock  climbing.  It saved  my  life,"  she  said.
His  lips  turned  up  into  half  a  smile.  "Every  caver needs  to  learn  rock  climbing,"  he  said.  "I  guess  so does  every  museum  director-crime  detector."
As  Diane  started  to  stand,  Mike  reached  out  and helped  her  up.
"You  think  you  need  to  rest  up  a  bit?"  he  said.
"Seriously.  I've  seen  you  look  better."
"I've  got  a  lot  to  do,"  she  said.  "I  need  to  keep busy." I just saw a man die, she thought. He may have been  trying  to  kill  her,  but  it  was  still  disturbing  to see someone die. Her heart ached with the thought of it. Focus, she thought. "Andie, would you mind going downtown  and  buying  me  another  cell  phone?"
"Sure,"  said  Andie.  "Any  particular  kind?"
"Something  useful,"  she  said.
"Sure.  I'll  do  it  right  now."  Andie  jumped  up  and grabbed  her  purse  and  coat  from  the  closet.  "You've had   several   reporters   call   about   the   wood-chipper murder.  Was  someone  really  murdered  by  being  put in  a  wood  chipper?  That's  awful."
Diane  was  afraid  of  this.
"No," she said simply, not wanting to discuss a case, but  wanting  to  dispel  any  rumors.  "I  imagine  you'll be  getting  more  calls  when  the  news  outlets  ?nd  out about Delamore. I'm not in for any reporters." Diane wondered  whether  Harve  Delamore  had  anything  to do  with  the  bones  found  in  the  ?eld.  She  knew  he didn't like her, but why did he attack her now? Maybe he'd  heard  the  news  report.
Andie  was  about  to  leave  when  the  door  to  her of?ce opened and Jonas Briggs, the museum's archae­ ologist,  came  in  along  with  Henry  Miller,  the  young boy  who'd  discovered  the  bones,  and  another  young man.
  "Found these young men looking for you . . ." Jonas stopped.  "What happened  to  you? You  look like  you lost a wrestling match with a grizzly." His white tooth­ brush  mustache  bobbed  up  and  down  as  he  spoke. Jonas  had  snow-white  hair  and  equally  white  bushy eyebrows over bright blue eyes. He looked like a kindly grandfather-or  a  wizard.
  "You're  half  right.  Just  a  little  mishap  on  the  way to work. Henry, how are you?" she said before Jonas could  question  her  further.
"I'm  ?ne,  Miss ...  I  mean,  Dr. Fallon,"  he  said.
"This  is  my  brother,  Caleb."
"I  remember  the  sheriff  mentioning  Caleb."  She held  out  her  hand  and  he  shook  it.
Henry  and  Caleb  didn't  favor  each  other.  Henry was  going  to  be  much  bigger  than  his  older  brother.
Caleb nudged his brother and smiled warmly at him.
"Go  ahead,"  he  said.
Diane could see how fond Caleb was of his younger sibling.  The  thought  of  it  made  her  smile.
"So,  what  brings  you  here?"  she  asked.
Henry  looked  at  his  brother,  who  nodded  at  him.
"When I was here yesterday," he said, looking back at  Diane,  "I ...  well,  I  really  like  it  here,  and  I  was wondering  if there  are  ever any  jobs  for someone  my age.  I'm  in  eighth  grade."
"So,   that   makes   you,   what,   thirteen,   fourteen?" asked  Diane.
"Yes,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "I'm  fourteen-almost-in a  week."
"Well,  we  have  a  student  after-school  intern  pro­ gram  you  can  apply  to,"  she  said.
"See," said Caleb, gently poking his brother on the arm.  "I  told  you  it  wouldn't  hurt  to  ask."  He  turned to Diane. "He was real shy about asking, ?gured you'd say  no,  but  I  told  him  it  never  hurts  to  ask  and  that he  should  always  let  the  other  person  be  the  one  to say  no-don't  do  it  for  them."  Caleb  looked  very self-satis?ed.
"Good advice," said Diane. "Andie, can you get him 	Beverly  Connor the papers to ?ll out and some information to take back to  his  grandparents?"
"Sure  thing."  Andie  went  to  a  ?ling  cabinet.
Mike and Jonas left, waving good-bye. Jonas looked back  at  Diane  one  last  time  and  shook  his  head.
"You  go  to  Bartram,  I  understand,"  Diane  said  to Caleb  as  Andie  looked  for  the  forms.  "What  do  you take?"
"History  and  computer  science,"  Caleb  said.  "I'd like  to  go  to  graduate  school  in  advanced  computa­ tional  methods."
"So, you have one foot in the past and the other in the  future,"  said  Diane.  "That  must  be  interesting."
Caleb  grinned.  "Yeah,  a  little  cognitive  tug-of-war sometimes,  but  I  like  them  both."
Andie  handed  Diane  the  application  form  and  sev­ eral  brochures.
"Show  the  brochures  to  your  grandparents  and  ?ll out the form and bring it back. You'll be called in for an interview, but that will be mainly to make sure you are  really  interested.  I'll  put  in  a  good  word  with  our education  director,"  Diane  added.
Henry grinned.  "I like the  dinosaurs. Do  you think I  could  work  with  them?"
"It   will   probably   be   with   a   variety   of   things- everything  from  dinosaurs  to  rocks  to  conservation.
You  still  interested?"
"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  he  said.
Diane  liked  Henry  and  his  brother  Caleb.  They were  polite  and  smart.  She  would  like  to  clone  them.
"Can I take your picture with Henry?" asked Caleb, pulling  out  a  digital  camera.
Diane    unconsciously    touched    her    face.    Andie looked  distressed.  For  a  moment,  Diane  thought  she was  going  to  forbid  it.
"I'll  Photoshop  the  bruises  out,  I  promise,"  said Caleb.
What  the  heck.  "Sure,"  she  said  and  let  him  take  a picture  of  her  with  Henry.
Diane saw them to the door and told Andie she was SCATTERED  GRAVES	 going upstairs to her osteology lab. On the third-?oor overlook, she glanced down and saw Henry and Caleb looking at the dinosaur bones. She smiled, walked down the  hall  to  her  lab,  and  went  in.
  The ?rst thing she noticed was a treacly smell of per­ fume,   and   she   wondered   whether   Neva,   who   had wanted to work with Diane's imaging computers in the lab vault, had  changed perfumes.  But Neva didn't usu­ ally  wear  it  as  heavy  or  as  sweet  as  the  aroma  she smelled.  Diane  walked  into  her  of?ce  just  off  the  lab and  stopped  abruptly.  There  was  a  young  woman  sit­ ting  at  her  desk.  Her  ?rst  thought  was  that  it  was Goldilocks  sitting  in  her  chair.
Chapter 8
"Can  I  help  you?"  said  Goldilocks.  "Are  you  lost?" Diane stared at her, wondering whether perhaps the woman  had  escaped  from  an  asylum.
  "Oh,  by  the  way,"  Goldilocks  continued.  "I'm  Dr. Jennifer  Jeffcote-Smith.  I've  just  arrived  from  Cali­ fornia."
And  you  got  lost  somewhere  over  Utah,  thought Diane.
"Nice   to   meet   you,   Dr.  Jeffcote-Smith,   I'm   Dr.
Diane  Fallon  and  I'm  wondering  what  you  are  doing in  my  of?ce."
Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith, attired in a powder blue silk suit  that  matched  her  eyes  and  went  great  with  her shoulder-length  wavy   blond  hair,   stared  blankly   at Diane  for  a  moment.
"Oh,"  she  said  ?nally.  "Well,  this  is  awkward."
The  expression  on  her  face  looked  to  Diane  as  if Dr. Jeffcote-Smith  thought  it  was  awkward  only  for Diane.  There  appeared  to  be  a  tiny  gleam  in  her  eye and  an  almost  imperceptible  twist  at  the  corners  of her evenly lipsticked mouth that could easily turn into a  smirk.
"No,  not  awkward,"  said  Diane.  "I'm  sure  it  must be  some  kind  of  strange  misunderstanding."  Like  I just  walked  into  a  parallel  universe.
"Lloyd  said  you-well,  aren't  working  here,"  she said.
"That  would  be  Lloyd  Bryce?"  said  Diane.
  "Yes; let me go get him. This had better come from him,  don't  you  think?"
Dr. Jeffcote-Smith  rose  and  started  out  the  door.
"Oh, I need to get in the vault to familiarize myself with  the  equipment.  I  understand  it's  state-of-the-art.
If  you  would  write  the  key  code  down  for  the  door, I'd appreciate it." She walked out of the of?ce, across the  lab,  and  out  the  door  that  led  to  the  crime  lab.
Diane  was  still  speechless  at  the  effrontery.  What was Bryce thinking? Obviously Bryce had asked either Neva  or  David  to  let  the  woman  in  the  lab.  No  one else  had  the  code  to  Diane's  door.
It   was   several   minutes   before   Jennifer   Jeffcote- Smith  returned  with  Lloyd  Bryce.  He  came  bustling in with a deep frown on his face, his dark eyes ablaze with  annoyance.  He  wore  jeans,  a  brown  sport  coat, and  a  yellow-gold  shirt.  Diane  could  tell  it  was  an expensive  shirt,  but  oddly,  it  made  him  look  cheap.
He  wasn't  a  tall  man.  He  was  trim,  had  dark  short hair,  and  wore  too  much  aftershave.  She  tried  not  to breathe  deeply.
Diane  hadn't  liked  him  from  the  beginning  and wasn't sure  why. Now she  was beginning to  think her initial  reaction  had  been  a  premonition.
He  hesitated  a  moment,  studying  her  face,  but  he didn't  ask  the  obvious  question.  "Diane,  you  are  just making  a  fool  of  yourself."  Bryce  sounded  a  bit  like a  machine  gun  with  words  for  bullets.
Dr. Jeffcote-Smith's mouth was de?nitely starting to look  like  a  smirk.  She  was  enjoying  this,  and  Diane wasn't  sure  why.  She'd  never  met  the  woman.
"I think not, Lloyd," said Diane. "Look at that brass plaque  on  the  wall.  What  does  it  say?"
"Aidan Kavanagh Forensic Anthropology Lab. I've read  it. I  don't know  who  Aidan Kavanagh  is, but  he has nothing to do with this. You don't work here any­ more.  I've  hired  Jennifer  to  be  the  new  forensic  an­ thropologist,  and  that's  that.  Any  effort  to  hang  on will  only  prove  humiliating  to  you.  Now,  go  run  your little  museum."
  "Aidan  Kavanagh  has  everything  to  do  with  this," said  Diane  evenly.  "His  father  is  the  major  funding source for this lab. The other major funding source is the  museum.  This  is  a  private  lab,  privately  funded, under the control of the RiverTrail Museum of Natu­ ral  History  and  its  director.  That  would  be  me.  This lab  predates  the  crime  lab,  and  there  are  no  public monies  involved.  It  is  not  an  agency  of  the  city  of Rosewood.  You  have  no  authority  here  whatsoever." Bryce stared at her like she was speaking a language he  didn't  understand.  Perhaps  she  was.  Perhaps  you can't do this was completely foreign to him. Jennifer's smirk  had  lost  some  of  it's  momentum.  In  her  eyes Diane  saw  what  looked  like  fear.  That  was  odd  too.
  "You  would  say  anything,"  he  said  at  last.  "I've seen  contracts."
  "This is not a matter of what I would or would not say to keep my lab. It's a matter of legal record. What you  saw  may  have  been  the  contract  the  forensic  lab has with Rosewood, but apparently you didn't read it. There  is  not  so  much  as  a  paper  clip  that  passes  be­ tween these units that is not recorded and checked by accountants.  When  Rosewood  had  their  idea  of  put­ ting the crime lab in museum space, the contracts were carefully  worked  out  between  the  city  attorneys  and ours.  At  no  time  did  this  forensic  anthropology  lab relinquish any of its connection to the museum. It be­ longs  to  and  is  administered  by  the  museum."
  She  hoped like  hell  that Colin  and  the museum  ac­ countants could ?nd a way to break the contract with the crime lab and get rid of this damn nuisance. Bryce had  suddenly  become  a  major  pain  in  her  backside.
  One  problem  with  breaking  the  contract  was  the taxes the  museum would have  to pay each  year. That was the little blackmail scheme the last administration had thought up. They upped the taxes because of valu­ able assets the museum owned, then offered to forgive them  if  Diane  would  house  and  run  the  crime  lab.
  She thought they could work around the taxes. They hadn't fought it at the time because she and the board liked  the  idea  of  the  crime  lab.  And  it  had  worked out  well.  She  had  not,  however,  accounted  for  such  a change  in  the  thinking  of  new  administrations-she should  have.
  "You  are  a  disturbed  woman who  can't  let  go,  and you've concocted  this tale," said  Bryce. "I'll  have the city   attorney   look   at   the  contract   right   now."   He grabbed  his  cell,  punched  in  a  number,  and  spoke  to someone  in  low  tones.
  Jennifer  had  retreated  from  the  two  of  them  and was  leaning  against  one  of  the  metal  tables.  She  had her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed around the  room.  She  looked  both  angry  and  scared.  Diane wasn't  sure  who  she  was  angry  with,  her  or  Bryce.
"Now  do  we  have  everything  under  control?"  said Diane  when  Bryce  was  off  the  phone.
"This  thing  about  the  forensic  anthropology  lab  is not  ?nished  by  a  long  shot,"  he  said.
"No,  you're  wrong.  It's  over,"  said  Diane.
"We'll see. In the meantime, Jennifer will be work­ ing  here,"  he  said.
"Have  you  heard  nothing  I  said?  This  is  my  lab, and  I  don't  need  an  assistant,"  said  Diane.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jennifer ?inch at the word assistant. Diane needed to ratchet the ten­ sion  down,  but  she  wasn't  sure  how,  other  than  give away  her  lab.  And  she  wasn't  going  to  do  that,  even temporarily.
"Jennifer  is  the  of?cial  Rosewood  forensic  anthro­ pologist.  She  is  the  person  all  skeletal  remains  will be  given  to  for  analysis.  What  will  you  need  a  big  lab for then?"
David had told her Bryce was clueless. She'd thought David  was  just  overly  critical,  but  apparently  he  was right.  The  man  really  didn't  know  anything.
"Bryce, Rosewood gets how many skeletons a year?
Almost  none.  Virtually  all  of  the  bones  we  analyze come  to  me  from  neighboring  counties,  other  states, and  other  countries.  I'm  all  for  Rosewood  having  its own  forensic  anthropologist,  but  the  city  will  have  to 	Beverly  Connor supply  her  with  a  lab  and  equipment.  You  can't  ask the  museum  to  do  it.  Now,  I  have  work  to  do."
"I'll  see  you  later  today-with  the  police  if  neces­ sary,"  said  Bryce.  He  stomped  out  of  the  lab.
Diane  looked  over  at  Jennifer.
"I  need  to  get  my  purse,"  she  said.
Diane  followed  her  into  the  of?ce.  "You  moved here  from  California?"  said  Diane.
"Yes,  with  my  family.  My  husband  quit  a  job  he loved in order to support my career," she said, retriev­ ing  her  purse  from  the  bottom  drawer  of  the  desk.
Diane  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  She  should  have been kinder to her. This had to be a blow. Bryce may not  have  believed  her,  but  Jennifer  knew  something was  not  right.
"I'm  sure  they'll  ?nd  you  very  good  lab  space," began  Diane.
Jennifer  looked  sharply  at  Diane.  "I  don't  need your  pity."
Diane  was  surprised  at  her  vehemence.  "I  wasn't offering  you  pity,"  she  said,  "just  friendliness."
Jennifer  put  her  purse  under  her  arm  and  walked out  of  the  of?ce,  the  heels  of  her  Dolce  &  Gabbana pumps clicking on the ?oor like ricocheting bullets. At least  she's  rich,  thought  Diane.
Diane  stood  for  a  moment  staring  at  the  closed door. "This has got to be the strangest day," she said under  her  breath.
She saw that the watercolor of the lone wolf hunting that  she  kept  on  the  wall,  the  only  decoration  in  her osteology of?ce, had been taken down and was leaning against  the  wall.  She  walked  over  and  picked  it  up.
"Now, why didn't Goldilocks like you?" she said to the picture. "Maybe she's friends with Little Red Rid­ ing Hood." Diane hung the painting back on the wall.
She then changed the key code on the doors to the lab.  Safely  locked  in,  she  went  to  the  drying  racks  to look  at  the  wood-chipper  bones.
She  put  on  her  lab  coat  and  gloves,  stopping  mo­ mentarily  to  see  whether  she  could  hear  any  more SCATTERED  GRAVES	 closet  conversations.  All  was  quiet.  She  checked  the bones.  They  were  mostly  dry,  and  she  began  laying them out on the table in basically anatomical position. They looked like a fossil ?nd-like Lucy laid out with her tiny ribs and scant bones. Diane had only seventy- two  pieces  of  bone  to  work  with.
   She  picked  up  the  petrous  part  of  the  temporal bone, the bone she hoped would reveal the sex, made measurements of the fragment, and recorded them. She mixed  up  casting  compound  and  began  making  a  cast of the acoustic canal. She set the poured cast aside and examined the rest of the fragments one by one, looking for  any  anomalies,  any  cut  marks  that  might  not  have been  made  by  the  wood  chipper,  anything  that  might have  identi?cation  value.  She  reached  for  a  piece  of the  hip  bone  that  included  the  pubic  symphysis-the place  where  the  two  sides  of  the  hip  bones  join.  The surface  was  rugged  with  well-de?ned  grooves,  which meant the person was young-late teens, early twenties. Diane  turned  to  get  the  camera  to  photograph  the piece when she was suddenly jarred out of her thoughts by  very  loud  yelling  coming  from  the  crime  lab  next door.
Chapter 9
Diane stood for a moment, uncertain what to do. The voices  were  coming  from  deeper  within  the  lab  and not  the  closet.  She  reached  for  a  phone  to  call  the crime  lab  when  she  heard  her  name.
  Okay, she thought, it's somehow about me. I am the landlord,  so  to  speak,  and  this  sounds  serious.  Land­ lords  check  into  serious  noises.
  She  walked  to  the  adjoining  door,  unlocked  it,  and entered  the  crime  lab.  It  hadn't  changed  much,  still all glass and metal cubicles and fancy equipment. The voices  were  clearer  now.  One  was  Sheriff  Can?eld's; he  was  red  faced  and  very  angry.  He  was  standing  in front   of   Bryce,   yelling   at   him.   Bryce   was   backed against  a  desk,  staring  wide-eyed  at  the  taller  sheriff. A  woman  with  long  blond hair  in  a  ponytail,  wear­ ing  khaki  slacks  and  a  pink  polo  shirt,  sat  in  one  of the  cubicles  with  her  door  open.  Her  eyebrows  were raised  and  her  lips  turned  into  almost  a  smile.  Must be Rikki. Diane  thought the look on Rikki's  face was far  too  excited.  She  was  obviously  enjoying  the  con­ frontation. Diane glanced around the room but didn't see  Neva.
  "Did you really think you could get away with this? What  goes  on  in  the  heads  of  you  people?  We  didn't elect  you . .  ."
  Bryce  caught  sight  of  Diane.  He  straightened  up and  pointed  a  ?nger  at  her.
"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  said.
"I  heard  the  yelling,"  she  began.
  Sheriff Can?eld turned and saw Diane's face. "You've been  hurt," he  said. "What  in the  world happened  to you?"  His  concern  was  obvious  and  sincere.
"Police  brutality,"  she  said.
Bryce  shook  his  ?nger  in  her  direction.  "Get  out.
This  is  none  of  your  business."
Bryce's callousness angered Can?eld just that much more.  "It  is  most  certainly  her  business,"  said  Can- ?eld. "Now, get  the bones and give them  to her right now.  Do  you  hear?  Now!"
"Sheriff,  we've  hired  a  forensic  anthropologist  to analyze our bones, if you will give her a chance," said Bryce.  His  voice  and  manner  were  remarkably  calm, considering  the  situation.
"I  don't  give  a  shit  if  you  hired  Britney  Spears  to buy your underwear. You don't get to decide who the bones  go  to;  I  do."
"What's  going  on?"  asked  Diane.
"This son of a bitch waylaid my deputy on the way to  bring  you  the  rest  of  the  bones  we've  found  so far-and  it  was  a  lot  of  them,  with  some  hair  and ?ngernails  mixed  in.  My  deputy  was  on  his  way  to your lab with them when this dirtbag stopped him and took  them  away  from  him.  He  and  a  security  guard damn  near  wrestled  them  out  of  my  deputy's  hands.
My deputy told me Bryce said he would deliver them to  you,  but  I  knew  better."
"We  didn't  wrestle  them  from  him,"  said  Bryce.
"How did you know they were on the way?" Diane asked  him.
"Huh?"  Bryce  looked  at  her,  silent  for  a  moment.
"We  didn't.  The  security  guard  and  I  just  happened to  be  out  there  when  the  deputy  drove  up."
"The  bones,"  repeated  the  sheriff.  "Get  the  damn bones  and  give  them  to  Diane.  And  if  you  ever  do anything  like  this  again,  I'll  put  your  ass  in  a  sling."
Their attention was diverted at the sudden sound of the  elevator.  After  a  moment  the  doors  opened  and Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith stepped out, carrying a tray with three  cups  of  coffee.
  "Jennifer,"  said  Bryce,  "give  the  sheriff  back  his bones."
  She  gave  one  of  the  coffees  to  Rikki  and  brought another  to  Bryce.  The  third  she  held  in  her  hand.
  "I haven't ?nished with them," she said. "I just got them  an  hour  ago."
  "I don't care," said Sheriff Can?eld. "You shouldn't have  had  them  in  the  ?rst  place."
  Jennifer   looked   at   Bryce,   then   the   sheriff,   and ?nally  Diane.  Her  eyes  narrowed  when  her  gaze  got to  Diane.  It  lingered  a  moment;  then  she  suddenly switched her attention to the sheriff and laid a dazzling smile  on  him.
"I'm  perfectly  capable  of  analyzing  those  bones," she said.
"I'm  sure  you  are,  ma'am,  and  I'm  not  questioning your credentials or your abilities. We've got a jurisdic­ tion  issue  here.  Please  pack  up  the  bones  and  give them  to  Diane,"  said  Can?eld.
Jennifer  looked at  Bryce  and he  nodded. She  audi­ bly sighed and walked over to the room that was Da­ vid's  photography  studio.
Diane  stood  with  the  sheriff,  wishing  she  hadn't come into the crime lab, thinking that maybe it wasn't a  good  thing  for  landlords  to  check  out  suspicious noises after all. As she waited, she studied Bryce, who stood  looking  at  nothing  in  particular,  the  corners  of his mouth turned slightly down. Trying to usurp Can- ?eld's jurisdiction was a stupid thing to do, even if he thought  it  was  a  way  to  poke  Diane  in  the  eye.  Why had he  done  it?
Jennifer   wasn't   gone   long-and   she   came   back empty-handed. They all looked  at her. Diane thought she looked alarmed, but she quickly regained her com­ posure.  She  walked  to  Rikki's  cubicle.
"Did  you  move  the  bones?"  she  asked  Rikki.
"Why would I?" said Rikki. "I don't do bones." She put  the  end  of  a  pencil  in  her  mouth,  and  Diane wanted to tell her not to pick up things in a crime lab and  put  them  in  her  mouth.
  "Okay." Jennifer cleared her throat. "The, ah, bones aren't  where  I  left  them.  Has  someone  been  in  my lab?"  Her  voice  had  a  slightly  higher  pitch  and  a strained  calm  quality  to  it.
  "What?" said the sheriff, looking at Bryce. "You've lost  them?"
  "I haven't lost them," said Bryce. He turned to Jen­ nifer.  "What  do  you  mean they're  not  where  you  left them?  Where  did  you  leave  them?"
  "In  my  lab,"  she  said.  "They  were  in  tubs  on  the table,  and  now  they  are  gone."
"Could  you  have  put  them  somewhere  else?"  asked Bryce.
"No. They aren't where I left them. Someone must have come in and moved them while I was getting the coffee,"  she  said.
"Well, don't this just take the cake," said the sheriff.
He  glared  at  Bryce.  "I  suggest  you  ?nd  my  evidence.
It  didn't  just  walk  off  by  itself.  I'm  sure  you  keep  a log  of  everything  that  comes  in  and  goes  out  of  this lab,  don't  you?  I  know  that  Diane  did."
"I  assure you,  Sheriff, we  will make  every effort  to ?nd  it,"  said  Bryce.
"I don't want to hear about your efforts. I want my evidence,"  said  the  sheriff.
"Maybe  we'd  better  ask  Diane,"  said  Bryce.  "You will  notice  that  she  can  waltz  in  here  anytime  she wants."
"Now,  why  would  she  steal  the  bones?"  said  Can- ?eld.  "She's  the  one  who  is  supposed  to  have  them.
Quit pointing ?ngers and get me my evidence. I can't believe this. You're the one who hijacked it. Don't go blaming  other  people  for  your  foul-up."
Diane  decided  that  this  would  be  a  good  time  to leave  Bryce  to  his  hunt.
"Let  me  know  when  they've  been  found,  Sheriff," she  said  as  she  turned  to  go  back  to  her  lab.
  She felt oddly ill at ease turning her back on Bryce and his crew, as if when she got back to her lab there would be a knife sticking between her shoulder blades.
  Diane  wrote  a  preliminary  report  for  Sheriff  Can- ?eld  on  the  results  of  the  analysis  of  the  few  bones she had. She had learned very little from them, and it didn't   look   like  she   would   learn   much  more.   She would  take  a  sample  down  to  Jin  to  see  if  he  could extract  some  DNA.
  She read over her summary again. She hadn't found any  fragments  to  suggest  there  was  more  than  one individual. The lateral angle measurement of the audi­ tory  canal  made  it  probable  the  individual  was  male. The pattern on the pubic symphysis suggested he was in  his  early  twenties.  The  piece  of  metal  could  mean that  he  had  some  type  of  body  piercing.  That  was  it: not  much,  mainly  suggestions.  She  packaged  and  la­ beled  samples  to  take  to  Jin  and  locked  them  along with the bones in her vault and changed the key code. Diane  locked  up  her  lab  and  left  via  the  museum side exit. As she passed the break room, she saw Jen­ nifer Jeffcote-Smith  sitting at one  of the  tables drink­ ing  her  coffee.  From  the  steam  rising  out  of  the  cup, it  looked  hot.  She  didn't  look  happy.  Diane  hesitated a  moment,  then  went  in.
"Come to gloat?" asked Jennifer when she saw Diane.
"No,"  said  Diane  pulling  up  a  chair.
"Then  what  are  you  looking  at?"  said  Jennifer.
"I  think  I'm  looking  at  a  scapegoat,"  said  Diane.
Jennifer  looked  up  sharply.  "What's  that  supposed to  mean?"
"You know, Lloyd Bryce has a temper, and he loses it  easily,"  said  Diane.
"You  will  have  to  be  more  clear,"  she  said.  "Or just  leave-that  would  be  good  too."  She  continued to  sip  her  coffee,  breaking  eye  contact  with  Diane.
"He  didn't  lose  his  temper  with  the  sheriff,  and Can?eld  was  laying  into  him  pretty  hard."
"So?"  said  Jennifer.
"You  need  to  ask  yourself  why,"  said  Diane.
"This is your story. You ask yourself why," she said.
"Because  he  wasn't  angry,"  said  Diane.
"Look.  Will  you  get  to  the  point  or  leave?  In  case you haven't noticed, today hasn't been a good day for me."  Jennifer  set  her  coffee  down.  She  twisted  her wedding  rings.
It  hasn't  been  a  good  day  for  you?  Diane  thought to  herself.  Look  at  my  face,  lady.
"How long were you out of your lab?" asked Diane.
"What  do  you  mean?"  Jennifer  asked.
"How  long  were  you  gone  getting  coffee?  It  was about  noon  when  you  came  up.  That's  a  busy  time for  the  restaurant,"  said  Diane.  "It  could  have  taken a  while."
"I  didn't  keep  track  of  the  time,"  she  said.
"Doesn't  matter.  It  wouldn't  take  long  for  some­ body  to  get  the  bones,"  said  Diane.
Jennifer  folded  her  arms  and  gave  Diane  her  full attention.  "Why  do  you  say  I'm  a  scapegoat?"  she asked.
"They hire you to come to Rosewood from Califor­ nia  with  the  promise  of  a  lab  and  equipment.  Then they discover they don't have a lab and equipment, so either  they  will  have  to  stock  one  for  you  or  let  you go.  You  said  you  moved  your  family  here  and  your husband  quit  his  job.  That  sounds  like  grounds  for  a suit  to  me  if  they  let  you  go.  However,  they  could sandbag  you,  then  ?re  you  and  maybe  save  a  lot  of money. After today they can let you go and say it was because  you  were  incompetent."
"I'm not incompetent." Jennifer raised her chin and glared  at  Diane.
"I'm  not  saying  you  are.  I'm  just  talking  about  a scenario-one you need to keep in mind," said Diane.
Jennifer  was  quiet  for  a  long  moment.  "Why  are you telling me this? You may have been the one who stole  the  bones."
"I  didn't,  and  blaming  me  isn't  going  to  help  you.
I'm  just  giving  you  a  heads-up,"  said  Diane.
	Beverly  Connor   Jennifer's  blue  eyes  glistened  as  if  she  were  about to tear up. "It wasn't supposed to work out this way," she  said.
  "No,  I  don't  imagine  it  was,"  said  Diane.  "What color  was  the  hair?"
Jennifer looked at her, puzzled. "What are you talk­ ing  about?"
"The  sheriff  said  they  found  hair.  What  color  was it?"
"Dark-very black. I was thinking it might be Asian or  Indian.  Why?"
"Because,  if  most  of  the  bones  are  gone,  we  need all  the  information  we  can  get.  What  about  the  ?n­ gernails?"  said  Diane.  "What  did  they  look  like?"
"I  really  didn't  look  at  them.  I  just  looked  at  the bones. And before you ask, there wasn't much to look at.  They  were  all  in  pieces.  There  wasn't  much  to  be done,"  she  said.
"What  about  the  skull  bones?  Did  you  notice  any­ thing  on  the  occipital  that  might  look  like  a  bullet hole?"
"I hadn't gotten around to identifying the parts yet.
I had just begun separating them into categories. I put them  in  separate  tubs  so  they  wouldn't  get  lost.  I didn't  want  to  put  them  on  the  table.  My  lab  isn't really  a  lab."  She  took  another  sip  of  her  hot  coffee.
"Why would you ask about a bullet hole in the occipi­ tal  anyway?"  Jennifer  looked  at  Diane  suspiciously.
"I have the ?rst bones that were found," said Diane.
"I  saw  something  that  might  be  beveling  on  a  piece of  occipital.  I  had  intended  to  try  to  piece  the  skull together-see  if  perhaps  it  was  a  bullet  hole."
"They were in too many distorted pieces. It wouldn't be  possible,"  said  Jennifer.
"Maybe  and  maybe  not.  Did  you  notice  anything that  suggested  there  was  more  than  one  individual?" asked  Diane.
"I  hadn't  gotten  that  far.  Frankly,  Bryce  had  me running errands most of the morning-getting stuff for SCATTERED  GRAVES	 my  lab.  We  were  going  to  convert  the  darkroom  into a  lab."
Diane  stood  up.  "I'm  sorry  this  is  happening,"  she said.  "I  really  am."  She  turned  to  go,  then  turned back. "Out of curiosity, whose idea was it that you go get  coffee?  Was  it  your  idea  or  someone  else's?"
"Bryce . . . ," Jennifer began and suddenly stopped.
The look in Jennifer's eyes told Diane everything she needed  to  know.
She left Jennifer there, ?guratively and literally cry­ ing over her coffee. Diane felt very tired. She decided to  go  home.  Maybe  Frank  would  be  there.
Chapter 10
Frank wasn't  home, but he  hadn't left a  message say­ ing he wasn't coming. Diane sat down at the piano to practice as soon as she had put her things down. Frank had a baby grand piano, and he was teaching her how to  play.  When  she  had  ?rst  seen  his  piano,  she  re­ marked, the way people do when they see a beautiful piano,  "Oh,  I  wish  I  could  play."  He  said  he  would teach her, but she resisted the idea at ?rst. She thought she  should  learn  on  some  lesser  piano.  Somehow,  the quality of her playing and the  quality of the sound of such  a  ?ne  piano  didn't  seem  like  a  good  match.  But there was something heavenly about sitting down and listening  to  the  sound  of  the  hammers  striking  the strings, even if all you could play was "Off We Go to Music Land." Today she played to keep her mind fo­ cused  more  than  anything  else.
  Fortunately  she  had  progressed  since  those  begin­ ning   lessons  and   was  now   learning   a  nocturne   by Chopin.  It  was  from  a  book  of  easy  classic  pieces  for the  piano;  most  of  the  notes  were  taken  out,  leaving the  basic  melody  and  some  harmonic  chords.  But  it was  pretty  and  she  could  play  it-a  little.
  She  hadn't  been  playing  long  when  she  heard  the door  open.  She  stopped.
"Don't stop on my account," said Frank. "It's sound­ ing good."
"It's  still  not  right,  and  I'm  not  sure . .  ."
She heard him put his car keys in the small ceramic tray he used for that purpose, then his watch, and the change  in  his  pockets.  After  a  moment  she  smelled the  scent  of  him-a  mixture  of  Frank  and  aftershave. He came up behind her, put his face next to hers, and kissed  her  jawline.
  "You're  treating  the  measures  as  if  there  were  a slight  rest  at  the  end  of  each  one.  Measures  are  just that-a  unit  of  measure.  Play  right  through  it."  He put  his hands  around her,  under her  arms, and  began playing the piece. After a moment he switched to the full  Chopin,  adding  the  notes  that  had  been  left  out for  beginners  like  her.  He  included  the  grace  notes, the  trills,  the  full  range  of  keys  along  the  keyboard. He  stopped  abruptly.
"See?"  he  said.
Diane  laughed,  stood  up,  turned,  and  kissed  him.
"Yeah,  I  get  it.  I  need  more  practice."
Frank's jaw dropped when he got a look at her face.
"Diane,  my  God,  what  happened?"
"Did  you  hear  anything  on  the  news?"  said  Diane.
"No,"  he  said.  He  came  around  the  piano  bench and  touched  her  face  and  put  his  arms  around  her.
"What  happened?"  he  said  again.
They   sat   down   on   the   sofa   and   Diane   leaned against  him  and  told  him  about  Delamore,  the  cliff, the  death.
"You almost died," he said. "Diane . . . why didn't you  call  me?"
"I didn't  want to upset you,  and I was  all right. As it  turned  out,  he  was  in  more  danger  than  I  was."
"Diane . . .  ,"  he  said  again,  as  if  saying  her  name over  and  over  would  ensure  she  was  really  there.
"Really,  now  I'm  serious.  I've  had  some  experience with  trauma  and  death-"
"As  I  well  know."
"Well,  yes,"  he  said.  "You  have  to  believe  me,  for your  own  emotional  well-being,  please  have  someone get  me  whenever  you  are  involved  in  any  way  in  a severe  trauma.  Death  and  near-death  experiences  af­ fect  you  in  ways  you  cannot  handle  alone."
  "Are  you  saying  I  need  your  strong  shoulder  to lean  against?"
  "Yes,  that's  what  I'm  saying.  It's  no  weakness  on your  part . . .  or  mine.  It's  a  human  need."
  "So,  when  you  get  shot  up,  you  need  my  shoulder as  well?"  she  said.
"You  know  very  well  that  I  do,"  Frank  said.
"That's  very  sweet,"  Diane  said.
"Call  me  if  anything  even  remotely  like  this  ever happens  to  you  again."
"Okay,  I  will."
"You  promise?"  he  said.
"I  promise."
"Okay.  Tell  me  the  rest  of  it,"  Frank  said.
"Edgar  Peeks  thinks  I  killed  him,"  she  said.  "I  be­ lieve  he  would  have  arrested  me  had  not  Colin  Pre­ hoda  arrived  to  spring  me."
"Peeks  strikes  me  as  incompetent.  Spence  Jefferies wants  to  hire  people  who  are  loyal  to  him  regardless of  their  quali?cations.  I  doubt  if  Peeks  can  make  a case  even  when  he  has  one."
"Maybe  not,  but  he  can  leak  it  to  the  papers  that I'm  a  suspect.  That  wouldn't  be  good  for  me  or  the museum."
"Don't  worry  about  it  now."  Frank  kissed  the  top of  her  head.  "Other  than  hanging  on  the  side  of  the cliff,  how  was  the  rest  of  your  day?"
She  told  Frank  about  Bryce  hiring  Goldilocks  the forensic  anthropologist  from  California  and  putting her  in  the  museum  forensic  anthropology  of?ce.  She told  him  about  Jin  having  to  strong-arm  Curtis  Crab­ tree,  who  was  apparently  also  a  detective.  Then  she told  him  about  the  closet.
Frank  laughed  during  the  whole  narrative.
"They  were  in  the  closet  having  a  conversation?" he said, with a characteristic twinkle in his eye. "How big  is  the  closet?"
"Pretty  big,"  said  Diane.  "Small  room  size.  I  sup­ pose that was the most private place they could ?nd."
  "How could he not know the forensic anthropology lab  belongs  to  the  museum?"  asked  Frank.
  "I  don't  know.  It's  true  that  I  haven't  done  any work for the crime lab since Bryce took over. Nothing has  come  up.  That's  not  particularly  unusual.  Maybe that's why he thought I was no longer working as the forensic anthropologist. But I would have thought the new administration would have  known." She shrugged.
"It's straightened out now. I feel sorry for the forensic anthropologist  he  hired.  She  was  totally  broadsided today.  I  don't  know  why  David  or  Neva  didn't  tell him  the  lab  belongs  to  the  museum."
"Why  didn't  David  tell  you  about  the  forensic  an­ thropologist?"  asked  Frank.
Diane  hesitated  a  second  and  sat  up.  That  was  a good  question.
"Perhaps  he  didn't  know  about  it,"  she  said.
"He  didn't  know?"  said  Frank  with  a  raised  eye­ brow.  "Is  that  likely?"  He  pulled  her  back  to  him.
"No.  David  always  knows  everything  going  on  in the  lab.  He  didn't  tell  me  because  he  wanted  me  to be  surprised  and  more  inclined  to  rip  Bryce  a  new one." She stared at the ?replace and wished there was a ?re in it. "I'm worried about David. He is really very levelheaded, despite his playing at being paranoid. But lately  he  seems  truly  paranoid.  Losing  the  lab  was  a blow to all of us, including me. And now is not a good time  for  either  of  us."
The  two  of  them  had  worked  together  as  human rights   investigators.   They   probed   and   recorded   the worst  behavior  of  humankind  in  hopes  of  achieving even  the  smallest  amount  of justice.  In  South  America they  were  uncovering  mass  graves  ?lled  by  a  particu­ larly vicious dictator. He struck back at them hard. In the   massacre   he   led,   Diane   had   lost   her   adopted daughter,  and  both  she  and  David  had  lost  many good  friends.
Diane had spent months in despair and on benzodi­ azepine. When she ?nally stepped back into life again, she couldn't go back to doing  the work she had done before. The offer to be director of RiverTrail Museum of  Natural  History  was  a  salvation.  She  was  several months into her position when David Goldstein showed up and asked for a job. Like her, he had been aimless since  the  massacre,  walking  a  ?ne  line  this  side  of sanity.  He  wanted  to  work  in  Diane's  newly  estab­ lished crime lab. There he felt he could actually bring bad  guys  to  justice.
  And  now  it  was  coming  up  on  the  anniversary  of the massacre. Every year it was hard. Every year they managed.  This  year  David  had  had  his  comfortable rug  pulled  out  from  under  him  when  the  new  mayor of  Rosewood  decided  to  rearrange  the  spoils  of  his election  victory.
Frank  reached  out  a  hand  and  grasped  hers.  "I know,"  he  whispered.
Diane  had been  able to  adjust to  being replaced  as director  of  the  crime  lab  mainly  because  of  Frank.
Living with Frank held nice surprises. He was the most levelheaded,  reasonable  person  she  had  ever  known.
She hadn't realized how calming it would be just being with  him  on  a  daily  basis.
The last things Frank did before going to bed were to play the piano-some beautiful piece-then, before turning out the light, he wrote in a journal. After their ?rst several days living together, Diane mentioned that she  hadn't  known  he  kept  a  journal.
"It  started  when  Kevin  was  younger.  Cindy  and  I were  in  the  middle  of  our  divorce,  and  Kevin  was having trouble dealing with it and with some problems at  school,"  Frank  had  told  her.  "I  could  see  he  was suffering.   I   started   reading   psychology   books   and searching the Internet. I was looking for some way to help us both through a rough time. There's a mountain of junk psychology out there. You'd be surprised how little  of  it  has  any  factual  basis.  But  you  know  how we  detectives  are . .  ."
"Handsome  and  sexy?"  Diane  had  said.
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
"Thorough.  We leave  nothing undone.  I uncovered a  couple  of  articles  on  new  research  into  how  people can  make  themselves  happier."
"I  have  some  ideas  on  how  I  could  make  you  hap­ pier,"  Diane  had  said,  smiling  at  him.
"I'll  take  you  up  on  that."  He  had  kissed  her.
"Tell  me  about  your  journal  ?rst,"  she  had  said.
"Had  I  known  you  were  such  a  tease,"  he'd  said.
"The  research  involved  a  simple  technique  which  I thought  at  ?rst  was  too  good  to  be  true.  But  it  turns out it works. Every night before I go to sleep, I think of  three  good  things  that  happened  that  day  and  I write  them  in  my  journal.  Then  I  spend  a  moment thinking  about  why  they  occurred.  That's  all  there  is to  it."
"And  this  works?"  Diane  remembered  being  in­ credulous.
"It does. It worked for Kevin, and it works for me.
It  helped  Kevin  realize  that  not  everything  was  going wrong  in  his  life.  It's  very  subtle,  but  it  works.  It  im­ mediately  improved  my  dreams,  and  I  noticed  that  I had a happier outlook on life. It has a long-term calm­ ing  effect  on  me.  Hadn't  you  noticed?"
"You've  always  been  a  calm,  happy  guy,"  Diane had  told  him.  "According  to  your  brothers,  you  were born  that  way."
"This  still  helps,"  he'd  said.
"You  write  down  things  that  go  well  in  your  job?"
Diane  had  asked.
"Sure.  If  I  solve  a  case,  or  if  I  see  something  nice like a dog riding down the road with his head hanging out the window and a smile on his face, or you. I write a lot about you. Just a sentence or two, like the times you  returned  from  a  caving  trip  with  no  bruises  or near-death  experiences.  Then  I  go  to  sleep  having thought  only  about  the  good  things  during  the  day and  not  about  the  meanness  I  saw  or  the  guy  that got  away."
Diane adopted that habit. She didn't write it down.
	Beverly  Connor She  just  went  to  sleep  listing  in  her  mind  the  good things that went well during the day. Frank was right. It  was  subtle,  but  it  worked.
  Diane  was  wondering  what  three  good  things  she could  possibly  think  of  from  this  stupid  day.  Being with Frank  was de?nitely one  of them. She  started to kiss  him  when  the  telephone  interrupted  the  moment and  Frank  went  to  answer  it.
  "It's for you," he said, coming back with the phone in  his  hand.  "There's  something  going  on  at  the  mu­ seum  that  needs  your  attention."
Chapter 11
"What  happened?"
Diane  was  in  the  sitting  room  off  of  her  of?ce  with a docent, Andie, the night security supervisor, two par­ ents,  and  a  seven-year-old  boy  with  tears  in  his  eyes.
The  father  was  pacing  up  and  down,  uncertain  whom to  be  angry  with.  The  furniture  in  Diane's  of?ce  suite was  very  comfortable-plush  sofa,  stuffed  chairs-but everyone in the room looked as if they might be sitting on  nails.  It  didn't  help  that  Diane's  face  looked  like the  loser's  in  a  heavyweight  boxing  bout.  The  child kept glancing at her as if she were an ogre who might grab  him  and  eat  him  at  any  moment.
"Emily,  what  happened?"  Diane  asked  the  docent again.
Emily  was  a  tall  athletic  girl  whom  Diane  under­ stood was quite successful in track at Bartram Univer­ sity.  She  said  her  athletic  training  served  her  well running after kids. Emily opened her mouth to speak, but  the  father  beat  her  to  it.
"You  were  supposed  to  be  watching  him,"  he  said to  his  wife.
Emily  looked  away  as  if  wanting  to  give  them  pri­ vacy, or not wanting to be witness to anything unpleas­ ant   or   embarrassing.   Andie   slumped   down   in   her chair.  Diane  said  nothing,  preferring  to  let  them  get out  their  frustrations  for  the  moment.
The  wife  glared  at  him.  "You  were  supposed  to babysit. You knew I had a class tonight. You just had to  go  out  with  your  buddies  when  they  called."
  They were both young, not yet out of their twenties, Diane guessed. The wife looked tired around the eyes; her  dishwater  blond  hair  was  limp.  The  father  kept running his ?ngers through his red-brown hair in what appeared to be a nervous habit. Both looked as if they were  ?ghting  feelings  of  guilt.
  "Well,  you  shouldn't  have  brought  him  here,"  said the  father.
  "This is supposed to be a safe place," she said. "The guards  aren't  supposed  to  pull  guns  on  you."
  Diane's jaw dropped. She looked at the security su­ pervisor, Blake Cassey. He was shaking his head even before she spoke. He held out his hands, palms facing Diane  as  if  that  would  ward  off  the  accusation.
"One  of  the  guards  drew  a  gun?"  Diane  said.
"We're  going  to  sue,"  said  the  father.
"Museum  security  wasn't  involved  in  this,"  Blake said quickly. "It was the dar . . . It was the west wing guard  at  the  crime  lab,  and  he  didn't  actually  pull a  gun."
Blake  had  almost  said  It  was  the  dark  side.  That's what  the  museum  staff  called  the  crime  lab  in  the west  wing.
Diane turned to Emily, who, as nearly as she could ?gure  at  this  point,  had  the  most  information.  "Per­ haps  you  had  better  start  from  the  beginning."
Emily  tucked  a  loose  tendril  of  her  dark  hair  back in  its  clasp  and  took  a  breath.
"Mrs. McConnel  was  in  the  gemology  class,"  she began.  "Ethan  was  coloring  at  a  desk  and  decided  to walk  about.  When  they  discovered  he  was  missing, Andie-she was in the class too-called upstairs to us.
Two  of  us  docents  were  still  in  the  of?ce.  We  always have someone there when classes are being taught, for times like this." She smiled, showing a row of perfect white  teeth.
"There  are  typical  places  kids  like  to  go,  and  we know where they are. The dinosaurs are the most pop­ ular.  I  started  with  the  third-?oor  overlook.  Kids  see it  when  they  are  on  the  ?rst  ?oor  and  want  to  go  up there  to  look  down.  Sure  enough,  I  saw  him  walking past  the  snack  room  onto  the  overlook.  And  I  ran after  him."
  "In  the  meantime,"  said  Andie.  Her  auburn  curly hair  was  like  a  cloud  around  her  face.  Andie  looked like  Little  Orphan  Annie  a lot  of  the  time,  a  persona she  often  played  up.  "Mrs. McConnel  called  her  hus­ band  and  I  called  museum  security-and  you."
  Diane noticed that both the docent and Andie were using what Andie called their happy-talk voices, obvi­ ously trying to play down the frightening aspect of the event, making like it was really a grand adventure that Ethan  McConnel  would  remember  fondly  when  he grew up. It seemed to Diane that the most likely thing Ethan  would  remember  was  her  bruised  and  swollen face.
  "I  had  his  hand,"  continued  Emily,  "and  we  were looking  at  the  pterodactyl  when  this  guy,  the  night guard  for  the  crime  lab,  came  out  of  the  hallway,  the one  leading  to  the . . .  to  the  crime  lab.  He  started telling us that we were trespassing and to get out. He patted his gun and told us if he caught us there again we'd  be  in  serious  trouble  with  him,  and  with  Mr. Smith  and  Wesson.  I  would  have  argued  with  him about just who was trespassing, but Ethan was getting upset  and  I  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  there."
"You  did  right."  Diane  turned  to  the  McConnels.
"I'm  sorry  this  happened.  Someone  in  the  crime  lab overstepped  their authority  and  used  bad judgment.  I will  make  sure  nothing  like  this  happens  again."
"Isn't  the  crime  lab  part  of  the  museum?"  said Mr. McConnel.
"No," said Diane. "They rent space. The crime lab belongs  to  the  city  of  Rosewood."
"But  don't  you  run  it?"  he  persisted.
"No,"  said  Diane.
"It's  that  change  in  administration  you  and  your buddies  voted  in,"  said  Mrs. McConnel.
The  husband  let  out  an  exasperated  breath.  Diane was  glad  she  wasn't  riding  home  in  their  car  tonight.
  "Say  what  you  want,  but  the  burglary  rate  is  way down  under  the  new  get-tough  policy,"  he  retorted.
"Now, how would you know? Are any of your bud­ dies  on  the  police  force?"  she  said.
Ethan  put  his  hands  over  his  ears.  Diane  guessed he  did  that  a  lot.
The husband nodded his head up and down. "Barrel knows  a  cop  or  two,"  he  said.
The wife turned to Diane. "Would you trust anyone whose  mother  named  him  Barrel?"
The father stood up. "Let's go, Barb. I'm sure these folks  don't  want  to  listen  to  us  bicker."  He  turned  to Diane. "I expect you to do something about that guy.
He  can't  go  around  threatening  little  kids  with  guns.
Come  on,  little  buddy,"  he  said  to  Ethan.  "Let's  go get  some  ice  cream."
"I'll take care of it tonight," Diane assured him. She turned to the security guard. "Take the McConnels by the  museum  shop  on  the  way  out.  I  believe  it's  open late tonight. They got in some new kaleidoscopes. Ask the  clerk  to  give  Ethan  one."
Ethan's  face  brightened  at  the  mention  of  both  ice cream  and  a  gift,  though  Diane  suspected  he  didn't know  what  a  kaleidoscope  was.  What  was  important was  that  his  parents  smiled  too.
When the McConnels were out of the of?ce, Diane stood  up.  "Emily,  let's  go  see  the  guard."
"Sure thing." Emily stood, looking ready for a ?ght.
Diane's  museum  of?ce  was  on  the  ?rst  ?oor  in  the east wing. The crime lab was on the third ?oor in the west wing. They walked to the elevators located in the lobby and  rode  up  to  the  third  ?oor.
"The  gemology  class  seems  popular,"  said  Diane, making  conversation.
"Any class that Mike teaches is popular," Emily said.
Mike  Seeger  was  curator  of  the  geology  collection.
Diane could imagine he was popular with the women, with   his   winning,   slightly   crooked   smile   and   lean good  looks.
"Lots of women sign up, then," commented Diane.
  "Men  too,"  said  Emily.  "They  love  to  hear  about his  adventures."
Diane  smiled.  "I'll  bet  they  do."
Mike  was  also  employed  by  a  pharmaceutical  re­ search company to look for extremophiles-organisms that  can  live  in  the  most  severe  environmental  condi­ tions.  The company  paid Mike  a good  salary to  go to some  of  the  more  dangerous  places  in  the  world  to ?nd  them.  It  was  like  a  paid  adventure  to  him.
"I  don't  see  how  Neva  stands  it,"  said  Emily.  "If my  boyfriend  had  such  a  dangerous  job,  I'm  not  sure I  could.  I  don't  even  like  to  think  about  it.  He  just got back from exploring an ice cave. Isn't that danger­ ous  enough?"
"Very,"  said  Diane.  She  didn't  like  to  think  about Mike's  other  job  either.
They got out at the Pleistocene Room overlook and walked  through  Exhibit  Preparations,  where  several people  were  working,  then  down  the  hall,  past  the break  room,  and  onto  the  dinosaur  overlook.  The guard  was  coming  out  of  the  break  room  and  spot­ ted  them.
"That's off-limits,"  he said, coming after  them with a  soda  in  one  hand.  "Nobody  is  allowed  beyond  this point."  He  pointed  to  the  entrance  to  the  overlook.
Diane  didn't  stop  until  she  was  standing  with  her back  to  the  security  camera  so  that  the  guard  had  to face  it.
"Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  she  said  calmly.
"It  doesn't  matter.  Nobody  goes  beyond  the  break room,"  he  said.
Diane  noticed  he  was  caressing  his  holstered  gun.
She  honestly  couldn't  tell  if  it  was  a  nervous  habit  or a  threat.
"You're wrong. The only thing that should matter to you  is  who  I  am,"  she  said.  "I'm  the  director  of  this museum,  and  this  overlook  is  museum  property.  For that  matter, the  crime lab  is  on  museum  property."
He grinned. "But you aren't in charge of the crime lab  anymore."
	Beverly  Connor   "I am in charge of the museum, and I'm telling you, you  cannot  keep  any  of  my  staff  or  museum  visitors out  of  this  area.  Are  we  clear  about  that?"
  "I  have  my  orders,"  he  said,  putting  his  hands  on his  hips  in  such  a  way  that  it  looked  like  he  could grab  his  gun  at  a  moment's  notice.
  First Curtis, and now this one, thought Diane. Where does  Bryce  get  them:  Thugs  Are  Us?
"I don't care what Bryce has told you," said Diane.
"You  are  not  to  be  here  threatening  my  staff  or  my visitors.  Do  you  understand?"
"I  understand  the  man  who  signs  my  check,"  he said. "Now, I think it's you ladies who should leave."
He  stepped  toward  them.  Diane  held  her  ground.
"You  were  warned,"  said  Diane  when  they  were almost  nose  to  nose.  "Come  on,  Emily."
Diane  walked  over  to  the  elevator  that  was  on  the back  side  of  the  overlook  and  punched  the  button.
The doors opened almost immediately, and the two of them  stepped  in.  Diane  could  see  the  smirk  on  the guard's  face  in  the  elevator  mirror.
Just before the door closed, he said, "I heard about your close call today. You never get enough, do you?"
Diane  held  her  tongue,  but  her  blood  was  boiling.
"That  didn't  go  real  well,"  said  Emily  as  the  door closed.
"On  the  contrary,"  said  Diane.  "It  couldn't  have gone  better."
Emily  looked  puzzled.
They got out at the ?rst ?oor and walked across the museum,  back to  Diane's of?ce.  Mike was  there talk­ ing  with  Andie  and  Blake,  the  security  supervisor.
"I  want  the  videos  to  the  overlook,"  Diane  said to  Blake.
"I have the one that shows Emily and the little kid," he  said  handing  it  to  her.
"Get the one  that was taped just now  with the two of  us,"  said  Diane.
"Is  everything  okay?"  asked  Mike.  "I  just  let  my class  out."
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
"Everything's  great,"  said  Diane.
"Did  you  rip  him  up?"  said  Andie.
  "He  wouldn't  budge,"  said  Emily.  "I  can't  believe the  nerve."
  Diane smiled, walked behind her desk, and reached for  the  phone.  She  called  Lloyd  Bryce's  home.
  "Yes."  His  voice  sounded  irritated.  Probably  saw the  museum  name  on  caller  ID,  thought  Diane.
  "You   have  another   out-of-control  employee,   the night guard at the museum entrance to the crime lab. He's  at  the  dinosaur  overlook  and  is  threatening  my visitors  and  employees.  You  rein  him  in  now,"  said Diane  in  her  most  undiplomatic  tone  of  voice.
  "Go  to  hell,"  he  said  loud  enough  for  everyone  in the room  to hear.  "You never knew  how to  keep the crime  lab  safe.  That's  why  you  had  so  many  people breaking  into  it.  Well,  I  do."  He  slammed  down  the phone.
"Wow,"  said  Mike.  "The  guy  has  anger  issues." Emily  and  Andie  were  wide-eyed.
  Blake shook his head. "You want me to take some security  up  there?"  he  said.
  Diane  smiled.  "I  don't  want  to  risk  a  shoot-out  at the dino overlook. What I want is for you to call and tell  me  what  the  monitors  show  he  is  doing."
  Blake   called   security   and   talked   to   the   person watching  the  monitors.  "He  is?  Thanks,  Leeanne."
  "He  put  a chair  on  the  overlook and  sat  down  fac­ ing  the  museum  approach.  What's  the  guy  think  he's doing?"  Blake  asked.
  "He's  doing  what  he  was  told  to  do.  Thumbing  his nose  at  me,"  said  Diane,  smiling.
"You  seem  awfully  happy  about  this,"  said  Mike.
"I  am,"  said  Diane.  She  picked  up  the  phone  and made  another  call.
Chapter 12
"Colin,  this  is  Diane  Fallon.  I'm  sorry  to  call  you  at home  so  late."
  Colin  was  a  workaholic.  Diane  wasn't  completely sure  he  ever  slept.  He  was  well-known  for  staying  all night in his of?ce. Diane imagined his of?ce furniture to be  as comfortable  as hers. She  had been  known to stay  all  night  at  the  museum  a  time  or  two  herself.
  "That's  all  right,  Diane.  What  can  I  do  for  you? Peeks isn't bothering you, is he?" He sounded like he was eating, but that didn't mean he wasn't also working.
  "No,  not  yet.  I  just  had  an  unfortunate  situation  at the  museum."
  Diane explained about the incident with seven-year­ old  Ethan  McConnel,  the  docent,  and  the  crime  lab's night  security  guard.
  "I  explained  things  to  him,  and  he  was  equally threatening to me. I called his supervisor, Lloyd Bryce, who not only refused to rectify the dangerous situation but,  I  fear,  encouraged  the  confrontation.  The  guard is now sitting in a chair on the overlook. I have tapes of  each  incident.  The  father  of  the  seven-year-old  is threatening  to  sue.  Is  this  something  we  can  use?"
  "Yes,  it  is.  It  absolutely  breaks  the  terms  of  the contract, makes it null and void. You know Rosewood is  short  a  judge  for  the  moment,  so  this  will  take  a little longer, but it won't be too long. In the meantime, what  are  you  going  to  do  about  the  guard?"
"Tonight  I'm going  to  evacuate the  third ?oor.  To­ morrow  I'll  tell  Bryce  the  guard  cannot  return.  If  I can't  get  any  satisfaction  from  him,  I'll  call  the  chief of  police-Peeks  will  be  piqued  by  that.  Oh,  and  a couple  of  other  things  happened  lately  too."
  She  related  the  stories  about  Jin's  job  applicant  at the  DNA  lab  and  the  incident  with  Goldilocks,  the new forensic anthropologist. She left out the conversa­ tion  in  the  closet  and  the  lost  bones.
  "This guy Bryce is out of control. Lucky for us. I'll start  on  the  paperwork."
  He said that the same way Diane would say she was going  caving.  He  loved  his  work.  Diane  smiled.
"Thanks. Again, I'm sorry to disturb you," she said.
"Not  a  problem."
"Wow," said Andie when Diane had hung up. "Are you  really  going  to  kick  them  out?  What's  wrong with  Bryce?"
"I  don't  know,"  said  Diane.  "But  right  now  I  have to go upstairs and ask the people working on the third ?oor  to  go  home."
"I  think  the  archivist  is  working  late  too,"  said Emily.
The  third  ?oor  was  mainly  of?ces  and  work  space.
The docents' of?ces were there, so were Exhibit Prep­ arations,  the  Library  and  Archives,  and  Education.
"I'll  make  sure  everyone  is  out,"  said  Diane.
Emily's hazel eyes clouded. "Do you really think he is  dangerous?"  she  asked.
Diane  smiled.  "Can't  take  a  chance,  can  we?"  she said.
Emily  still  looked  worried,  and  Diane  felt  guilty.
Part of her did feel that Bryce and some of his people were  out  of  control,  but  she  didn't  really  think  the guard would shoot anyone. She was just taking advan­ tage  of  the  opportunity  to  use  Bryce's  bad  judgment against  him.
"Most  of  this  is  just  posturing  by  Bryce,"  she  said.
"But  I  need  to  stop  it,  and  I  want  to  make  sure  no one from the museum has to cross his path until I get it  cleared  up.  No  one  should  be  afraid  they  will  face a man with a bad attitude and a gun during the course of  their  day  at  the  museum."
Emily  nodded  and  gave  Diane  a  faint  smile,  and Diane  patted  her  on  the  shoulder.
"This  guy  is  the  de?nition  of  hostile  workplace," said  Emily.  "It's  just  so  weird."
"I'll  say,"  said  Andie.  "But  weird  is  what  we  do here."  She  grinned  at  Diane.
"Good  night,  Andie,"  said  Diane.  "I'll  see  you  in the  morning."
Andie  nodded,  said  good-bye,  and  started  to  leave.
She  lingered  at  the  door  momentarily,  as  if  there might yet be ?reworks to see. Diane shooed her away.
"Mike,  you  mind  coming  with  me?  There's  some­ thing  I'd  like  you  to  help  me  with,"  said  Diane.
"Sure  thing,  Doc."  Mike  grinned.  "I  love  working here.  Always  something  going  on."
"I'll  go  too.  I  need  to  get  my  purse,"  said  Emily.
"It's  in  the  docents'  of?ce."
The  three  walked  out  to  the  elevator  and  rode  up to the third ?oor. The guard was still there. Diane saw him  at  the  far  side  of  the  building  as  she  was  about to  enter  Exhibit  Preparations.  He  was  sitting  in  the chair looking like a troll guarding the bridge, popping something-candy  or  popcorn-into  his  mouth  and staring  down  the  hallway.
Mike looked down the long hallway at him. "So tell me,"  he  said.  "Which  Billy  Goat  Gruff  am  I?"
"Well, I know I'm the littlest one," said Emily, "so I'm out of here." She waved at them and went to the docents'  of?ce.
Diane  went  to  each  department  on  the  third  ?oor and  told  her  employees  to  go  home.  That  done,  she told Mike what she was planning and the two of them walked  down  toward  the  west  wing  overlook.  The guard   stood   up   as   she   approached,   expecting,   no doubt,  another  confrontation.  He  was  grinning,  ready for  it.
Shipman.  That  was  the  name  on  his  uniform.  G.
Shipman.  He  was  a  large,  broad-shouldered  fellow with short dark hair and a broad face with a nose that looked  like  it  had  been  broken  at  least  once.  Diane wondered  whether  he  was  a  bully  when  he  was  in school.
  "You're going to have to bring someone bigger than that skinny runt," he said, pointing at Mike. "He's not much  better  than  the  broad  you  brought  last  time." They   ignored   him,   and   before   Shipman   realized what  Diane  was  about,  she'd  pulled  the  metal  accor­ dion  gate  from  its  slot  in  the  wall.  He  ran  at  her, lunging  at  the  expanding  door,  trying  to  wrestle  it from  her,  grinning  and  staring  her  in  the  eyes  the whole  time.  Mike  stepped  in  and  slammed  it  in  the latch.  Diane  locked  it.
  Shipman's muscles, Diane guessed, were like Harve Delamore's-all show. Mike's were not. It was nice to have the testosterone advantage on her side this time.
  "Hey, you can't lock me in," he said. He shook his hands   as   if   they   hurt.   Probably   stung   after   Mike grabbed  the  gate  from  him.
  "I'm  not,"  said  Diane.  "I'm  securing  the  museum. There's a stairwell and an elevator to the left and right of  the  overlook.  They  lead  down  to  the  ?rst  ?oor. There will be guards at the desk and they can let you out.  Or  you  can  go  through  the  crime  lab  to  their private elevator," said Diane. She closed the ?re doors and  locked  them  too.
  As  Diane  and  Mike  walked  to  the  middle  bank  of elevators, she called security on her cell and told them to  turn  on  the  night  lighting.
  After a few  moments they were plunged  into dark­ ness except for the foot lighting. They heard a muf?ed yell  but  couldn't  hear  what  Shipman  was  saying.  She pushed  the  button  for  the  elevator  and  the  doors opened immediately. They got in and the doors closed, drowning  out  all  sound.
"I thought something was up the way you talked to Bryce-a  little  harsher  than  your  usual  tone."
"Bryce had already lost two battles with me. I knew he  wouldn't  want  to  lose  a  third,  and  I  didn't  want to  tempt  him  into  being  reasonable  by  making  nice with  him."
"Doc, I didn't know you could be so manipulative," he  said.
"Of  course  you  did,"  retorted  Diane.
Mike  folded  his  arms  over  his  chest  and  leaned against  the  wall  of  the  elevator.  "Exactly  where  did this  get  you?"  he  asked.
Mike was wearing tan slacks and a dark gray sweater, dressier than his usual Dockers and polo shirts. She was glad  he  was  back.  She  hadn't  liked  the  idea  of  his  ice caving  any  more  than  Neva  had.
"The  terms  of  the  contract  between  the  museum and  the  City  of  Rosewood  specify  that  neither  the crime lab operation nor any of its employees shall put the  museum,  its  staff,  or  any  visitors  in  danger,"  said Diane.  "When  the  lab  left  my  control,  Vanessa  and the board wanted the crime lab gone. I confess, I had already  been  thinking  about  it  even  before  Vanessa suggested it. It would be nice to have the space back."
"So Bryce really stepped in it this time," said Mike.
"When  Neva  gets  off  work  her  muscles  are  knotted up worse than mine after a hard rock climb. She really doesn't  like  the  guy.  And  neither  does  David  from what  I  hear.  Neva's  worried  about  him."
Diane  didn't  say  anything  for  a  long  moment.  Fi­ nally she spoke. "We're coming up on the anniversary of the massacre," she said at last. She didn't elaborate.
People who knew her well knew what she was talking about. "It's always hard on both of us. This year, more so  on  David."
"Oh, Diane, I'm sorry . . . I hadn't realized. I don't think  Neva  did  either."
The  elevator  doors  opened.
"It's not something we bring up without cause," said Diane  as  they  stepped  off  the  elevator  into  a  stream of  people  leaving  the  museum  restaurant.
Diane unlocked a door and ducked into the primate section  to  avoid  being  noticed  by  anyone  she  knew.
The  room  had  an  eerie  feel  in  the  dark  with  only SCATTERED  GRAVES	 the foot lighting. The Neanderthal ?gures looked even more  real  in  the  dark  shadows.
"Are  you  going  to  be  all  right?"  Mike  asked.
"Fine.  David  will  be  ?ne  too.  How  about  you?  Is that a new scrape on the side of your face?" she asked, de?ecting  any  talk  about  the  massacre.
"Frostbite.  I  got  it  in  the  ice  caves.  I  have  to  tell you, ice caves are among the most beautiful places on earth,  but  I  really  hate  them."
"Don't they have more experienced people with ice caves . . . ? I mean, that isn't your thing," said Diane.
"We  had  ice  cave  experts  doing  the  climb  too.  I didn't really have to do that much. I wanted the expe­ rience.  But  now  that  I've  had  it,  I  much  prefer  the regular  old  caves  we  explore,"  he  said.  "Though  I have  to  say,  the  volcano  expedition  several  months ago  was  interesting."
They  crossed  over  to  the  east  wing  lobby.  Two  of her security guards were on duty. Diane greeted them as  she  walked  past.
"You got a phone call from Lloyd Bryce," said one of  the  guards.  He  grinned.  "He  said  you  locked  his guard  in  the  west  wing?"
Diane  stopped.  "I  did  no  such  thing.  Mr. Shipman has  several  egresses  to  choose  from  if  he  wants  to leave.  If  Mr. Bryce  calls  again,  I'm  not  here."
"Sure  thing,  Dr. Fallon."
Diane left Mike in the lobby on his way to pick up Neva  to  take  her  to  a  late  dinner.  Diane  went  to  her of?ce and called Frank to tell him she would be home soon  and  that  she  would  tell  him  all  about  her  latest adventure.
Home,  she  thought  as  she  hung  up.  She  still  hadn't made  up  her mind  whether  to  settle in  with  Frank  or to  get  her  own  place.  She  wished  she  could  do  both.
She sat in her chair listening to the water fountain on her  desk.  The  bubbling,  ?owing  sound  was  soothing.
Diane didn't feel like she had just won a major bat­ tle. She thought she would feel more jubilant now that the museum had a way to reclaim all that space in the 	Beverly  Connor west wing and rid itself of a growing problem. She sat there  feeling  a  little  sad,  not  unlike  the  way  she  had felt  when  the  chief  of  police  and  the  mayor  had  re­ placed  her.  It  had  hurt  more  than  she  let  on,  more than  she  had  told  anyone,  even  Frank.  In  truth,  she loved  the  crime  lab  and  she  had  enjoyed  it  being  in the  museum.  She  knew  Vanessa  had  too.
  Vanessa  Van  Ross  was  the  real  power  behind  the museum.  She  was  old  Rosewood  going  back  several generations.  She  had  money  and  she  had  power-but not  enough  power  to  change  the  new  mayor's  mind. Vanessa  wasn't  aware  that  Diane  knew  she  had  gone down  to  the  mayor's  of?ce  after  he  ?red  her  to  talk him  out  of  it.  It  must  have  been  an  odd  feeling  for Vanessa-being  turned  down.  It  didn't  happen  often. Diane got up, put on her jacket, and turned out the lights. She  walked through  Andie's of?ce  and opened the door to leave. Neva and Mike were standing there ready to knock. Neva was dressed in jeans and a short, lambskin-lined suede jacket and gloves. It must be get­ ting  colder  outside,  thought  Diane.
"Well,   hi,"   Diane   said.   "Did   you   forget   some­ thing?"
Mike shook his head. "Neva wanted to talk to you," he  said.
"It's  David,"  said  Neva.  "Did  you  know  he  re­ signed  today?"
Chapter 13
"Resigned?"  said  Diane.  "When?"
Neva  shrugged.  "I  just  know  he  left  a  letter  on Bryce's desk. I'm really worried about him. He hasn't been  himself  lately,"  she  said.  Her  dark  brown  eyes looked  moist.  She  ran  her  ?ngers  through  her  honey brown  hair,  but  her  bangs  fell  back  in  her  eyes.
"Come  in,"  said  Diane.
Neva  frowned  at  the  sight  of  Diane's  face,  but  she didn't  say  anything.  Probably  knew  that  Diane  was tired  of  people  noticing.
Diane  turned  on  the  light  in  Andie's  of?ce.  Mike and Neva sat on the sofa;  Diane sat on a chair in the small  sitting  area  in  the  corner  of  the  of?ce.  The cottage-style stuffed furniture with its ?oral design and matching rag rug of pink, blue, and green were pretty and  tranquil.  It  made  Diane  feel  like  she  should  be entertaining  Peter  Rabbit's  mother.  She  guessed  that was  what  Andie  had  in  mind.
"He  hasn't  been  the  same  since  you  left  the  crime lab.  You  know  David  hated  politics  to  start  with.
Now ..."  Neva  shrugged  again.  "I  know  he  never talked  much  about  himself,  but he  talked  to  us  about other  stuff.  Now  the  only  time  I  have  a  conversation with  him  is  when  all  of  us  have  dinner.  At  work,  it's strictly  business.  He  keeps  to  himself."
"Do  you  know  where  he  is?"  asked  Diane.
Neva  shook  her  head.  "I  tried  calling  his  cell  but didn't  get  an  answer.  I  went  by  his  house  while  Mike was  teaching his  class  tonight.  He either  wasn't  home or  didn't  answer  the  door."
"What  about  his  rooms  in  the  basement  here?" asked  Diane.
"I  went  down  there  before  I  left.  Unless  he  locked himself  in  and  is  not  answering  the  door,  he's  not there." She hesitated a moment, looked over at Mike, then  back  at  Diane.  "I  know  this  is  a  hard  time . .  ."
She  let  the  sentence  trail  off.
"Sometimes David likes to be by himself, especially now,"  said  Diane.  "And  you  know  he  won't  suffer fools-gladly  or  otherwise."
"I  know  that,"  said  Neva.  "Mike's  been  telling  me what  Bryce's  been  doing.  Bryce  has  this  thing  about control. That's what makes him so hard to work with.
I  can't  tell  you  how  many  crime  scenes  we've  arrived at  way  late  because  he  takes  forever  to  assign  one  of us  to  go.  By  the  time  we  get  there,  the  scene  has already been compromised. Often he'll just send Lolli­ pop  by  herself."  Neva  rolled  her  eyes.
"You had no clue that David was going to resign?" said  Diane.
"Not  really.  Neither  of  us  have  been  happy  up there.  Jin  is  counting  his  blessings  that  he's  in  the DNA  lab.  Frankly,  I  was  thinking  about  applying  for a  job  there  when  he  gets  around  to  hiring.  It  worries me  that  David  would  quit  with  no  job  lined  up."
"Don't be too worried. I'll look for David and speak with  him,"  said  Diane.
Neva  looked  relieved.  "Maybe  you  could  talk  him into  coming  caving  with  us  sometime,"  said  Neva.
"Not  a  chance  in  hell,"  said  Diane.  "He'd  rather work  a  crime  scene  with  Bryce."
Neva  laughed.  "You  think  he  is  all  right,  then?"  she said.
"I believe so," said Diane. "I'm not really worried."
This  wasn't  exactly  the  truth.  She  had  been  mildly concerned   about   him  too.   But   she   didn't  want   to worry  Neva.
  "I'll let you get home, then," said Neva. "You must feel  awful,  everything  you've  been  through  today."
"Not as bad as I look," said Diane. But it really was. She  and  Mike  stood  up.  Diane  rose  with  them.
"Good  to  see  you,  Neva.  I'm  glad  you  came  by," said  Diane.
She  missed working  with  them  every day.  The  four of  them  had  worked  well  together.
"I  have  to  tell  you,  Bryce  is  very  angry  with  you," said  Neva.  "He  is  always  quick  to  temper,  but  I've never  seen  him  this  angry."
"How did he not know that the forensic anthropol­ ogy  lab  belongs  to  the  museum?"  asked  Diane.
"He  wouldn't  listen  to  any  advice  or  information that  David  or  I  tried  to  give  him,  so  we  quit  trying.
But  I  would  have  thought  he  knew  about  your  lab."
Neva shrugged. "I'm sorry about letting them in there.
I  hadn't  meant  to.  They  caught  me  coming  out  of the  lab."
"It's  all right,"  said Diane.  "I changed  the code  on the  locks  to  make  sure  they  don't  get  back  in-it wasn't  aimed  at  you."
"I  thought  you  would,"  said  Neva.  "I'd  prefer  not to know how to get in the lab until Bryce understands where  his  limits  are."
After  Neva  and  Mike  left,  Diane  called  Frank  and told him she might be delayed. Then she retrieved her cell  phone  from  her  pocket  and  called  David's  cell number.  She  didn't  expect  him  to  answer,  but  he  did and she was surprised at the amount of relief she felt.
"David,  are  you  all  right?"  asked  Diane.
"Sure,"  he  said.  "Why  wouldn't  I  be?"
"Neva  said  you  resigned."  Diane  sat  back  down  in Andie's  plush  chair.
"It seemed like the logical thing to do," he said. "I just  couldn't  in  good  conscience  work  for  the  guy anymore."
"Where  are  you?"  asked  Diane.
"I'm  driving  home."
"Neva  has  been  trying  to  get  in  touch  with  you," said  Diane.
"I  know.  I  just  didn't  want  to  talk  to  her  yet.  I'm feeling  guilty  about  bailing  out  on  her  without  warn­ ing.  I'll  call  her  later."
"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Diane.
"I thought I'd apply for a job at the museum. I have lots  of  skills."
"That  sounds  like  a  plan,"  said  Diane.  "Why  don't you  come  to  my  of?ce  tomorrow?"
"I'd  like  to  take  a  little  break  ?rst.  You  know,  get this  month  over  with."
"I understand. So you're going to take a vacation?"
"Yeah.  I  think  so,"  he  said.
"Keep  in  touch."
"Sure,"  he  said.  "Don't  worry."
When they hung up, Diane sat in the chair for sev­ eral  minutes  thinking  about  David.  It  was  one  of  the more strained, noncommittal conversations she'd ever had  with  him.  She  put  her  face  in  her  hands  and rubbed  her  ?ngertips  across  her  forehead  as  if  she could smooth out her thoughts. Instead she only made her face hurt. David seemed off to her, even for David in troubled mode. She couldn't put her ?nger on what it  was,  but  it  didn't  feel  right  to  her.  She  went  home to Frank with an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.
  Diane  liked  rounding  the  drive  and  seeing  the  mu­ seum  early  in  the  morning.  Until  it  came  into  view, she never knew exactly what she would see. The stone structure could be bathed in the glow of sunrise, or it could  be  shrouded  in  fog,  glistening  wet  after  a  rain, or  dark  and  gothic  during  a  downpour.
  This morning the building had a golden glow as the sun just rising above the tree line re?ected off the gran­ ite. A fog from the pond rose from behind the building, giving  the  scene  an  ethereal,  misty  halo.  The  dark, lea?ess  trees  looked  like  long  dark  ?ngers  caressing the  building.
The   granite   structure   was   a   beautiful   gothic-style building  with  large  rooms  decorated  with  Romanesque moldings, polished granite ?oors, and mahogany-paneled walls.  It  began  life  in  the  1800s  as  a  museum  on  the ?rst  ?oor,  with  the  upper  ?oors  rented  out  as  of?ce space. In the early twentieth century, the building was converted  into  a  private  medical  clinic  that  closed down in the 1950s under mysterious circumstances-a history  the  employees  loved  to  speculate  about.  The building  then  stood  empty  until  Milo  Lorenzo  and Vanessa  Van  Ross  decided  to  make  it  into  a  mu­ seum  again.
  There  were  stories  told  by  the  docents  of  bodies buried   in   the   subbasement-the   hidden   results   of medical  mistakes  or  ?endish  experiments  from  the building's  dark  past  as  a  medical  clinic.  Good  ghost stories  are  always  fun.
  As  she  drove  up  to  her  parking  lot,  she  saw  two ?gures  rising  from  their  seats  on  the  steps,  obviously waiting  for  her.  It  was  Henry  and  his  brother,  Caleb.
  "I'm sorry for coming so early," he said. "Caleb has to  go  to  work  and  I  have  to  go  to  school."
  "That's  all  right.  There  are  a  lot  of  early  birds around  here,"  said  Diane.
  The blast of warm air felt good as they entered the building. Chanell Napier, Diane's head of security, was at  the  desk  speaking  with  one  of  the  guards  about to  go  off  duty.  She  was  a  slender  African-American woman  with  a  cheerful  round  face  and  a  levelheaded disposition.
  "Blake  told  me  about  last  night,"  she  said.  "I  can get  a  few  guards  and  retake  the  third-?oor  overlook if  you  like."
Beside  her,  Diane  saw  Henry  and  Caleb  exchange glances.  That  had  to  sound  strange,  she  thought.  Of course  the  whole  thing  was  strange.
"I'll  handle  it  with  Bryce,"  said  Diane.  She  turned to Henry and Caleb. "You here to return the applica­ tion  form?"  she  asked.
Henry  nodded,  handing  it  to  her.
"I've  been  trying  to  interest  him  in  archaeology."
	Beverly  Connor Jonas  came strolling  over with  a wink.  "I could  use a good  assistant."
  Henry  grinned  proudly  at  his  brother.  "This  is  Ca­ leb's last day on his job," he said. "He's going to work at  the  university."
  "I'm going to be working in the Advanced Compu­ tational  Methods  Department."  Caleb  grinned.  "It's what  I've  been  wanting  to  do."
"Beats  working  that  boring  job  at  the  bank,"  said Henry.
"That's  the  truth,"  said  Caleb.  "I'm  real  excited.
Almost  as  excited  as  Henry."
"Do  you  think  they'll  accept  me?"  asked  Henry, suddenly  looking  a  little  worried.
"I'm  sure  they  will,"  said  Diane.
"That's a shoo-in right there," Jonas stage-whispered in Henry's ear. "Everyone around here does what Dr.
Fallon  says."
Diane  laughed.  "I  wish."
"Sheriff  Can?eld  had  people  out  scouring  the  ?eld again,"   said   Caleb.   "He   said   somebody   stole   the bones?"  Caleb  looked  incredulous.
"Grampa said the sheriff's ?t to be tied," said Henry.
"Have  they  found  anything  else?"  asked  Diane.
Caleb  shrugged.
"I  heard  Grampa  say  they  found  a  bullet,"  said Henry.
"People  are  always  shooting  around  there,"  said Caleb. "I'm surprised they didn't ?nd lots of bullets."
"The  hunters  are  crazy,"  said  Henry.  "Sometimes they  don't  pay  any  attention  where  they  shoot."
"Sounds  like  here,"  said  Jonas.  "Is  the  third  ?oor safe?"  he  asked  Diane.  "I  heard  we  had  a  troll  on the overlook."
Henry  and  Caleb  looked  curiously  at  each  other.
The   third   ?oor   overlook   is   getting   a   reputation, thought  Diane.
"It's  safe,"  said  Diane.  Jonas  was  kidding,  but  she was  a  little  annoyed  with  him.  She  didn't  want  any rumors  ?ying  around.
SCATTERED  GRAVES	
*	*	*
When  Diane  got  to  her  lab,  she  retrieved  the  box of bones she had selected for Jin to try to get a DNA sample from. She thought she would run into Shipman again when she opened the overlook, but he was gone.
Perhaps  Bryce  had  gotten  rid  of  him.  She  took  an elevator down to Jin's DNA lab. She caught him com­ ing  out  the  door.
"Hey,  boss,  how  are  things?"
"A  surprise  a  minute,"  she  said.
"So  I  hear."  Jin  shook  his  head.  "You  don't  look so  bad.  I  got  a  girlfriend  in  theater.  You  want  to  try some  theater  makeup?"
"I  think  it  gives  me  character,"  said  Diane.
"Neva  told  me  David  resigned,"  said  Jin.  "You know,  I'm  worried  about  him.  He  hasn't  been  saying much  lately.  He  just  goes  into  his  room  and  shuts the  door."
"I  think  he'll  be  ?ne,"  said  Diane.  "I  have  some bones  for you  to try  to get  some DNA  out  of. Please ?nd  some,"  she  said,  handing  him  the  samples.
"The wood-chipper murder, right? Sure thing, boss."
He  took  the  package.  "If  there  is  any  DNA  here,  I'll ?nd  it."
"Thanks,  Jin."
"You  tell  me  if  you  hear  from  David,"  he  said.
"Actually, I did hear from him. He's thinking about leaving  town  for  a  few  days."
Jin  was  quiet  a  moment.  "You  think  he'll  come back?"
"He asked about a job at the museum," said Diane.
Jin  grinned.  "That's  good.  Maybe  he's  just  chilling out."
Diane's  phone  rang.  She  took  it  out  of  her  pocket and  looked  at  the  display.  It  was  Andie.
"Andie,"  said  Diane.
"Dr. Fallon, the mayor and a whole bunch of other people  are  here.  They  are  sitting  in  my  of?ce."
Chapter 14
"The week just gets better," muttered Diane. "Andie, put  them  in  my  of?ce,  not  the  sitting  room.  Move more  chairs  in  if  you  need  them.  Call  Colin  Prehoda and tell him what's up. Don't let them hear you. Offer them  coffee.  I'll  be  right  up."
"Sounds  serious,  boss,"  said  Jin.
"Serious,  but  possibly  good."  Diane  smiled.  "Find me  some  DNA,"  she  said  and  took  the  stairs  to  the ?rst  ?oor.
She  stopped  in  Andie's  of?ce  and  gave  her  the  re­ port she had written for Sheriff Can?eld. She scribbled a  note  on  it  saying  that  Jin  was  going  to  try  for  some DNA.
"Andie,  fax  this  to  Sheriff  Can?eld's  of?ce,"  she said and walked past Andie's desk into her own of?ce.
Spence  Jefferies,  the  mayor  of  Rosewood,  was  sit­ ting  in  one  of  the  comfortable  chairs.  Edgar  Peeks, the  new chief  of  police,  sat in  the  other stuffed  chair.
Douglas Garnett, the chief of detectives, a man whom Diane  had  worked  with  successfully  on  many  cases, sat  in  a  straight-backed  chair.  Diane  was  surprised  to see him there. One corner of his mouth tweaked when he  saw  her,  and  he  brie?y  made  eye  contact.  He looked  thin  to  Diane,  but  it  had  been  a  while  since she  had  seen  him.
They all stood when she entered but sat back down quickly after they shook hands. She noticed that none had  coffee.  Diane  took  a  seat  behind  her  desk  and surveyed  the  group.
  Mayor  Jefferies  and  Chief  Peeks  were  both  sharp dressers, sharper  than Garnett,  who was  somewhat of a  clothes  horse.  Diane  noticed  the  pinky  rings  that Prehoda  had  mentioned.
The  two  men  were  very  different  in  appearance.
The mayor had light brown hair, dark eyes, and a lean face.  His  prominent  nasal  folds  and  rugged  complex­ ion  made  him  look  older  than  his  actual  age.  Peeks had  dark  hair,  hazel  eyes  and  that  baby  face.  What they  had in  common,  besides a  good  tailor, was  mean- looking   eyes-shark   eyes,   Neva   would   have   called them-devoid of kindness. How did you get elected with eyes like that? thought Diane as she looked at Jefferies.
"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  she  said.
"You  can  explain  this,"  said  Peeks.
The chief of police tossed a packet of folded papers onto her desk. It looked like a legal document. So the only  niceties  they  were  going  to  exchange  with  her were standing when she entered the room and shaking her  hand.  Diane  picked  up  the  papers  and  looked  at them.  Sure  enough,  Colin  had  been  busy.  Just  as  she was  about  to  speak,  she  heard  noises  from  Andie's of?ce.
The  door  opened  and  Colin  came  in  carrying  his own  chair.  He  was  a  snappy  dresser  too.  Diane  was beginning to feel underdressed for the occasion in her plain  navy  pantsuit.  Colin  wore  his  boyish  smile,  one that had fooled many an opposing counsel. He turned his chair around and straddled it with his arms resting on  the  back.
"This  is  Colin  Prehoda,"  said  Diane.  "He  drew  up the  document  you  just  handed  me."
"We're   acquainted   with   Mr.  Prehoda,"   said   the mayor.
Diane  was  about  to  speak  again  when  there  was more  commotion.  This  time  it  was  Lloyd  Bryce.  He was also carrying his own chair. Andie must be out of chairs  by  now,  she  thought.  She  noticed  that  he  wore an  identical  pinky  ring.  So-an  Alexander  the  Great club?
  "I  hope this  is everyone,  or we'll  have to  go  to the auditorium,"  said  Diane.
  "Now,  why  exactly  have  you  come?"  she  asked again.
  "What's this business about shutting down the crime lab?"  said  Peeks.
"I wouldn't know anything about that," said Diane.
"These  papers  simply  direct  that  the  crime  lab  be  re­ moved  from  museum  property."
"We  have  a  contract  with  the  museum,"  said  the mayor.
"Mr.  Jefferies,"   said   Diane.   "The   contract   was voided  when  the  crime  lab  guard  threatened  a  seven- year-old  visitor  and  one  of  my  docents  with  a  gun.
The overlook where the incident happened is provided by  the  museum  as  a  place  were  visitors  may  go  for  a top view  of the  dinosaurs. It is  a heavily  used feature of  the  museum.  It  does not  fall  under  the  jurisdiction of  the  crime  lab."
Peeks started to speak. "It is my understanding the guard  never  actually  pulled  his  gun."
Diane cut him off. "He showed it to them, referred to  it,  and  emphasized  its  presence.  He  ordered  them off  the  overlook  and  told  them  if  they  were  to  come back  again they  would be  in serious  trouble with  him and  his  gun.  That  is  a  threat.  He  was  out  of  control and  beyond  his  authority."
"She  exaggerates,"  said  Bryce  in  a  tone  that  sug­ gested  this  was  an  end  to  the  matter.
"I  have  the  videos,"  said  Diane.  "Not  only  of  the incident  with  the  child,  but  of  another  when  he  con­ fronted  me  and  the  docent,  and  a  third  video  that shows him attempting to attack me and to wrestle the gate away from me while I was securing the museum.
And  Bryce,  before  you  say  I  was  locking  him  in,  I would  remind  you  that  he  had  points  of  egress  from the overlook by means of a stairwell and an elevator- in  addition  to  the  elevator  in  the  crime  lab."
Diane paused, but when none of them said anything she  continued.
"The contract has very clear prohibitions against the crime  lab  putting  the  museum,  its  visitors,  or  its  staff in   danger.   The   guard   would   not   listen   to   reason, choosing instead to bully and to use physical force and threats.  When  I  asked  Bryce  to  intervene,  to  rein  the guard in, he refused-with some rather foul language.
It  was  clear  that  Bryce  was  in  support  of  the  guard's actions. I had no choice but to execute the provisions of  the  contract  to  protect  the  museum,"  said  Diane.
"You could have given us a heads-up on this," said the  mayor.
"I could not delay. The crime lab was out of control and  I  didn't  know  how  much  worse  it  was  going  to get.  I  had  already  been  forced  to  evacuate  the  entire third  ?oor  of  the  museum  to  remove  my  staff  from the  danger  presented  by  the  belligerent  guard."
Bryce  made  an  explosive  noise  that  Diane  took  to mean  she  was  exaggerating  again.
"The  incident  with  the  security  guard  was  just  the latest and the worst in a long list of contract violations.
Bryce  sent  Curtis  Crabtree  with  instructions  that  he was to work in the DNA lab that is owned and oper­ ated  by  the  museum.  There  are  no  open  positions  in the  DNA  lab  and  he  was  so  informed  by  the  DNA lab  manager.  But  Mr. Crabtree  wouldn't  take  no  for an answer. He refused to leave and got physical when he  was  told  that  the  lab  was  not  hiring.  And  in  a separate  incident,  in  clear  violation  of  his  authority, Bryce  tried  to  dismiss  me  as  head  of  the  museum's osteology  lab  and  install  someone  he  had  ?own  in from  California  and  promised  the  job  to."
Bryce squirmed in his chair and looked angry, impa­ tient,  and  dismissive.
"Frankly,"  said  Diane  before  he  could  speak,  "I'm at a loss to understand what is going on. But it is clear that  the  actions  of  the  director  of  the  crime  lab  and members  of  his  staff  are  interfering  with  and  dis­ rupting the operations of the museum, putting its staff and visitors in danger, and soiling its reputation. It has to  stop  here  and  now.  The  museum  is  responding  by removing  the  crime  lab  from  its  premises."
"There  is  a  matter  of  the  taxes  we  have  forgiven," said  the  mayor.
Ah,  yes,  the  over-the-top  taxes,  thought  Diane.
"That  is  being  addressed  as  well,"  said  Colin.
They  all  turned  and  looked  at  him,  as  if  they  had forgotten  he  was  there.
"I'm not a potted plant either," he said, giving them one  of  his  charming  grins.
"Is there no room for negotiation?" asked the mayor.
"Perhaps the  museum  security  unit  could  take over all security."
Diane  shook  her  head. "That  would  not  be  accept­ able.  As  I  have  indicated,  the  actions  of  the  security of?cer  are  only  one  complaint  among  a  long  list."
"I  see,"  said  Mayor  Jefferies.  "Of  course  the  city attorney will have to look over all this. We only have your  word."
"The   contract   provisions   are   clear,"   said   Colin.
"And  let's  not  forget  the  videos  and  many  indepen­ dent  witnesses."
"Look,"  began  Diane.
"There is some question as to the ownership of the bone  lab,"  interrupted  the  mayor.
Diane  raised  her  eyebrows.  "No,"  she  said,  "there is  not."
"I  think  the  bone  lab  was  turned  over  to  the  city when the crime lab was installed," Jefferies continued.
Diane  shook  her  head,  as  did  Colin.
"That  dog  isn't  going  to  hunt,"  Colin  said.
"No,"  insisted  Jefferies,  "I  believe  Garnett  told  us that when the crime lab was established, the bone lab went  in  with  the  arrangement.  Isn't  that  right,  Gar- nett?"
Jefferies  turned  to  Garnett,  who  looked  at  him,  at Diane, and back at Jefferies. Bryce had a bit of a smirk on  his face.  Colin sat  up  straight, watching Garnett.
  "I  don't  know  where  you  got  that  idea,"  said  Gar- nett.  "The  forensic  anthropology  lab  has  always  been part of the museum. The city has never had any stake in  it.  I  have  tried  to  brief  Chief  Peeks  many  times about  this,  but  so  far  he  hasn't  had  the  time,  so  I'm not  surprised  that  things  are  a  little  confused."
  The  silence  that  followed  was  uncomfortable.  The mayor  stared  at  Garnett  for  a  long,  hard  moment. Diane  couldn't  see  his  face  straight  on,  but  the  view she  did  have  didn't  look  good.  Garnett  held  his  gaze and  they  were  locked  that  way  until  Diane  spoke. Gregory  Lincoln  had  been  Diane's  boss  at  World Accord  International,  where  she  was  a  human  rights investigator.  He  was  a  career  diplomat  and  a  good friend.  He  would  often  give  her  little  tidbits  of  his diplomatic   wisdom-mainly   because   Diane   had   no skills  herself  in  that  direction.  One  of  the  things  he told  her  was  that  sometimes  it  is  useful  to  leave  the opposition  with  something  to  save  face.
  "You could move the lab to where ballistics is done. It's next to the police station and the chief could keep an  eye  on  it,"  she  said.
Not  much  to  save  face  with,  but  it  was  a  bone.  A bone  that  they  ignored.
"There  is  another  item,"  said  Peeks.  "This  docu­ ment says you own several pieces of equipment in the crime  lab."
"Yes," said Diane. "That is true. The museum does."
The  previous  city  administration  often  would  not want  to  foot  the  bill  for  a  piece  of  expensive  equip­ ment,  holding  out  for  the  museum  to  buy  it.  And Diane  did  buy  several  items  and  leased  them  to  the crime  lab,  with  the  proviso  that  the  museum  had  ac­ cess  to  them  as  needed.  The  largest  piece  of  such equipment  was  the  mass  spectrometer-an  item  she was sure the current administration was going to hate to  lose.
The mayor turned to Diane and looked at her with his  cold,  dark  eyes.  It  must  have  been  the  way  he looked at Garnett a moment ago. De?nitely shark eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said in such a  way  that  Diane  was  sure  it  was  a  warning.  "You realize  that  you  may  be  arrested  at  any  moment  for the murder of Of?cer Delamore and we can deal with your  replacement."
Colin sat up  straight again. He was starting  to look as  dangerous  as  the  mayor.  Good,  thought  Diane.
"That has nothing to do with the danger to the mu­ seum the crime lab represents," said Diane. "I'm sorry it has come to this, but there is no choice. I can't have a  tenant  who  deliberately  and  repeatedly  violates  the sanctity  of  the  museum.  And  I  certainly  can't  have out-of-control people with guns on museum property."
"This  is  out  of  the  blue,"  Peeks  said.  "Why  didn't you  try  to  resolve  it  instead  of  broadsiding  us?"
You're a good one to talk about broadsiding people, she  thought.
"I  did try  to  resolve it.  Bryce  told me  to  go to  hell loud  enough  that  everyone  in  the  room  heard  him."
Jefferies and Peeks turned their gazes on Bryce. He visibly  cringed.
"We  aren't  going  to  take  this  lying  down,"  said Peeks.
Diane kept her voice calm and reasonable. "I didn't think  you  would.  But  I  hope  you  see  that  I  have  to protect  the  museum.  We  can't  have  our  visitors  or employees  endangered  and  we  can't  leave  ourselves open  for  lawsuits  when  some  gun-toting  cowboy  de­ cides  he's  going  to  threaten  a  child."
"You  know  I'll  make  calls  and  inform  people  that you aren't the person we are using as forensic anthro­ pologist," said Mayor Jefferies. "You won't have any­ thing  to  do  in  that  big  lab  of  yours."
Diane laughed. Jefferies ?rst looked surprised, then angry. Diane could see he didn't like being laughed at.
"You  think  I'm  joking?"  he  said,  leaning  forward.
Colin  started  to  stand,  but  Diane  spoke  before  he got  to  his  feet.
"I think you have a big job ahead of you," she said.
"You  will  have  to  call  every  county  and  city  in  every state in the United States. Then you will have to start calling  cities  and  countries  around  the  world.  I  don't think  you  know  how  this  business  is  done."
The mayor's face ?ushed. He said nothing. But Diane could  see  he  wanted  to.  He  had  forayed  into  an  area he  knew  nothing  about  and  he  had  made  a  mistake and  an  empty  threat.  He  wasn't  going  to  do  it  again.
Diane  had  no  doubt  he  would  look  for  behind-the­ scenes  ways  to  sabotage  her  career.
"I  think,"  said  Colin,  "we  would  consider  that  to be  defamation  and  would  act  accordingly."
Diane  stood  up.  "I  think  we  have  said  all  there  is to  say."
Jefferies,  Peeks,  and  Bryce  all  looked  as  though they  would  like  to  climb  over  her  desk  and  strangle her.  Instead,  they  simply  rose  from  their  seats.  They didn't shake hands. Diane was glad. They would prob­ ably  crush  her  ?ngers.
Peeks stared hard at her. "As soon as the investiga­ tion  into  Delamore's  death  is  complete,  expect  to  be arrested.  Start  getting  your  affairs  in  order."
He  turned  and  they  all  ?led  out  of  the  room.  Gar- nett  glanced  at  her  brie?y,  then  turned  and  left  with the  others.  The  look  in  his  eyes  made  her  feel  dou­ bly  uneasy.
"What  was  that  about  my  osteology  lab  and  Gar- nett?" she asked Colin after the delegation had gone.
"I  don't  know.  That  was  strange  and  unexpected.
They  couldn't  hope  to  get  away  with  claiming  the  fo­ rensic anthropology lab." Colin shook his head. Some of his black hair fell in his face and he brushed it away with  his  hand.  "The  only  thing  I  can  ?gure  is  they were trying to tell you they are going to make it hard for  you  to  get  them  out  of  here."
"Do  you  think  they  will  make  a  lot  of  trouble?" asked  Diane.  "The  mayor  was  very  angry."
"They  will  make  trouble,  but  I  don't  know  how much.  If  they  take  us  to  court,  we'll  have  to  present 	Beverly  Connor proof  and  defend  our  position  against  their  claims, warranted or not." Colin stood up and stretched. "The idea of moving the crime lab next to the police station is  a  good  one.  Maybe  they'll  take  the  suggestion  and this will be over soon. I expect they won't drag it out. We'll  see.  I  wouldn't  worry  too  much  about  Jefferies attacking  you  personally.  That  would  put  him  in  a world of trouble. And as for Peeks' threat, I wouldn't worry.  He's  just  trying  to  scare  you."
  "Not if they own the crime lab," said Diane. "Which they do. I have to tell you, I'm worried. What I don't know  is  why  they  just  didn't  go  ahead  and  arrest  me.
I  know  they  will."
Colin didn't say anything for a moment. "They want you  to  reconsider  moving  the  crime  lab.  It's  black­ mail."
"I  can't  give  in,"  she  said.
"I know. It if comes to you being arrested, you have a  lot  of  pull  too.  Vanessa  and  her  family  will  have a  ?t.  And  you  know  Vanessa  when  she  is  pissed," he  said.
Diane  thought  he  was  just  trying  to  cheer  her  up, but she thought he was right about the blackmail part.
Perhaps  they  saw  that  as  leverage.
Colin left and Diane sat in her of?ce for a long while thinking.  She  hadn't  voted  for  Jefferies.  She  hadn't liked  the  way  he  came  out  throwing  mud  from  the beginning,  and  she  was  surprised  he  appealed  to  so many  people.  He  had  a  shoot-?rst-and-ask-questions­ later  attitude  about  suspects  that  reminded  her  of third-world  dictators.  So  far,  the  only  of?cial  action he had taken that she agreed with was to approve new bulletproof  vests  for  the  police  of?cers.
She wondered how much of her relish in going after Bryce,  Peeks,  and  Jefferies  came  from  her  desire  for payback.  She  realized  she  was  not  above  wanting  it for the way the whole crime lab directorship was han­ dled.  The  thought  made  her  ashamed.  She  suddenly felt  not  so  different  from  them.
She went home early. It felt like a storm was coming.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
*	*	*
Diane  spent  the  time  until  Frank  got  home  playing the  piano.  It  was  calming,  and  she  needed  calm.  The mayor  and  his  friends  had  disturbed  her  core  more than  she  realized  at  the  time.  She  had  gone  head-to­ head  with  the  last  mayor  and  it  was  no  big  deal.  As a rule, authority didn't scare her. These guys did. They seemed  mean  and  she  knew  they  were  willing  to  lie.
Lies  are  wicked  weapons.
After  Frank  got  home  they  went  to  a  movie  and had  a  late  dinner,  and  an  even  later  evening.  Diane awoke   late   the   next   morning.   Frank   was   already dressed  and  drinking  coffee  when  she  got  up  and walked  into  the  kitchen.
"Ah,  I  knew  the  smell  would  get  you  in  here."  He handed  her  a  cup.
"I'm  going  to  be  late  to  the  museum,"  said  Diane.
"Why  didn't  you  wake  me?"
"You   were   sleeping   so   soundly,   I   thought   you needed it. Besides, I haven't been up that long myself.
I'm late too. I'm going to have to run by McDonald's for  breakfast."
He  kissed  her  cheek.  "I'll  see  you  tonight."
The  telephone  rang  and  Frank  grabbed  it.  Diane rarely  answered  the  phone  when  he  was  home.
She  could  hear  from  the  conversation  that  the  call was  from  Ben  Florian,  Frank's  partner.  She  watched Frank's  face  change  from  a  grin  to  a  look  of  utter surprise  and  shock.
"Thanks  for  calling,  Ben."
He  hung  up  the  phone  and  looked  at  Diane  for a  moment.
"That  was  Ben.  He  was  on  his  way  to  work  and heard  the  news."
"What  news?"  asked  Diane.
"Mayor  Spence  Jefferies  was  murdered  last  night."
Chapter 15
Diane  and  Frank  stood  staring  at  each  other  for  sev­ eral   long   moments,   astonishment   and   disbelief   re­ ?ected  on  both  their  faces.
  "Murdered?" Diane said ?nally. "The mayor? I just saw  him  yesterday."
  She always thought it strange that people would say that,  as  if  having  just  seen  someone  should  have  af­ forded  them  protection  against  death.  But  there  she was, saying it with the same surprise in her voice. She wanted to say Are you sure? but that was just as silly. Murdered-a  dreadful  word,  even  applied  to  some­ one  she  didn't  like.
"Who?"  she  asked.  "How?"
"He was apparently killed at home, shot in the back of  the  head.  They  don't  have  a  suspect  yet."
"When  did  it  happen?"  asked  Diane.
"Late  last  night,"  said  Frank.  "Ben  didn't  have  a lot  of  information.  He  just  heard  it  on  the  news."
"Well,"  said  Diane,  "this  is  certainly  unexpected."
There  was  a  time  when  she  would  have  been  one of  the  ?rst  on  the  scene.  She  would  have  known  last night that there had been a murder and by now would have  collected  a  truckload  of  evidence.  But  now  she was  like  everyone  else  in  Rosewood-one  of  the  last to  ?nd  out.  That  was  good,  she  told  herself.  Nothing like getting called out late at night to look at someone with the back of his head shot out. Now she could go to work and, like most everyone else, simply speculate about  what  had  happened.
  "The detective in charge will probably want to talk to  you,"  said  Frank.  "Just  because  you  talked  with him  yesterday."
  Diane nodded. "Probably so. The chief of police was there too." Diane smiled halfheartedly. "He'll probably say  I  did  it  then  and  there  and  moved  the  body."  She kissed  Frank again. "You're going  to  be  late."
  "Have a good day," he said. "I may be late tonight. These  identity  thefts  are  becoming  a  real  bear."
"I'll  be  here  playing  the  piano,"  she  said.
"I  laid  out  a  ?nger  exercise  book  for  you."  Frank gestured  toward  the  room  with  the  piano.
"I  saw  it.  The  cover  said  The  Virtuoso  Pianist.  The words  virtuoso  and  Diane  Fallon  will  never  be  heard in  the  same  sentence."
"Forget the word. Do the exercises. They'll strengthen your  fourth  and  ?fth  ?ngers."
"My ?ngers are very strong," protested Diane, look­ ing  at  her  hands.
Frank took a hand and kissed the tips of her ?ngers.
"Strong  enough  for  rock  climbing,  but  not  for  the piano.  Trust  me.  You'll  ?nd  those  seventh  cords  you have  trouble  with  a  little  easier.  See  you  sometime tonight." Frank kissed her again and left, carrying his cup  of  coffee.
Diane   stood   at   the   door,   sipped   her   coffee,   and watched  him  get  into  his  car.  She  smiled  and  waved  as he  pulled  out  of  the  driveway.  It  felt  so  domestic.  She closed the door. I don't have to think about murder any­ more,  she  thought  as  she  got  ready  for  work.  I  have  to think about Neanderthals-and maybe getting arrested.
  "Have you heard?" said Andie when Diane walked into  her  of?ce.  She  had  a  newspaper  spread  out  on her  desk.
  "About  the  mayor?  Yes,"  said  Diane.  "That's  a shocker."
  "And  he  was  just  here.  Do  you  think  someone  will come talk to us about him?" said Andie, excitement danc­ ing in her eyes. Diane thought Andie would have had her ?ll of murder when Diane was director of the crime lab.
"Probably,"  said  Diane.
"Strange, isn't it? So far the police don't know any­ thing," said Andie. "Or at least they aren't telling the news  what  they  know.  You  don't  think  you'll  be  a suspect,  do  you?  I  mean,  you  were  suing  him."
Diane noticed Andie didn't seem at all disturbed by the   prospect   of   her   boss   being   a   murder   suspect.
Maybe  Diane's being  a  suspect was  starting  to be  old hat  to  her.
"I  doubt  it,"  said  Diane.
Diane went  to her  of?ce and sat  down at  her desk.
It  was  unsettling  having  the  mayor  gunned  down.  It was  too  much  like  third-world-style  politics,  a  break­ down of the rule of law. The thought gave her an urge to want to stop it. She got on her computer and looked up  the  story  on  the  Web.  The  online  media  didn't have  much  more  than  Andie  had  told  her.
Mayor  Spence  Jefferies  was  found  in  his  kitchen, shot  in  the  back  of  his  head.  He  was  found  early  this morning  by  an  aide  who  came  around  to  the  house when  he  couldn't  get  in  touch  with  the  mayor  about a  meeting  scheduled  for  this  morning.  Diane  reached for  the  phone,  then  stopped.  Who  did  she  think  she was  going  to  call?  Why  was  she  calling  anyone  about this   anyway?   She   didn't   do   murder   anymore.   She stood  up  and  left  her  of?ce.
"I'm  going  to  work  on  the  Neanderthal  exhibit," she  told  Andie.
"Sure  thing,  Dr. F,"  said  Andie,  not  looking  up from  the  newspaper.
  "I  wish  we  could  use  a  fountain,"  said  one  of  the exhibit   planners,  standing   back,  looking   at  the   di­ orama  of  the  Neanderthals.  "Real  water  falling  from the  rocks  would  be  so  cool."
"And  the  mold  and  mildew  would  look  so  real," said  another.
"True,"  said  the  ?rst.
Diane started to say something about the placement of  vegetation  when  her  phone  rang.  It  was  Kendel, her  assistant  director.  Diane  answered  it  with  a  tinge of  expectation  of  good  news.
"I  did  it,"  said  Kendel.
Diane  could  hear  the  excitement  in  her  voice  even over  the  static  of  the  weak  signal  between  the  cell phones.
"You  were  able  to  get  it?"  said  Diane.  "Kendel, that's  great."
The  staff  working  on  the  exhibit  all  stopped  at  the sound of Kendel's name. They all knew she was nego­ tiating  for  a  set  of  Neanderthal  bones-a  real  coup for a small museum like RiverTrail. The museum had casts  of  various  skeletons  on  display,  but  none  of  the real  thing.
"It's  the  most  expensive  thing  we've  purchased," said  Kendel.  "But,  I  have  to  tell  you,  they  are  a  nice set  of  bones.  You're  going  to  like  them."
"Good job, Kendel," said Diane. "Really good job.
We're  all  looking  forward  to  seeing  them-hopefully the  public  will  too."
Kendel had just recently gotten her mojo back after being accused of stealing artifacts-an accusation that nearly cost her her career. Having her back to her old self  meant  good  things  for  the  museum.  Kendel  was skillful  at  acquiring  quality  collections.
"She  got  the  Neanderthal  skeleton?"  the  staff  said simultaneously  when  Diane  got  off  the  phone.
"Yes, she did," said Diane. She started to elaborate when  her  phone  rang  again.  This  time  it  was  Andie.
"Dr. F,  you  have  a  policeman  here  to  see  you," said  Andie.
"I'm sure it's about yesterday's meeting. I'll be right there."  Diane  eyed  the  diorama  again  and  made  a suggestion  about  where  to  place  more  vegetation  be­
	Beverly  Connor fore  she  left  to  see  the  policeman.  She  wondered  if Peeks  had  sent  him  to  arrest  her.  She  sighed.
The policeman was Izzy Wallace, a friend of Frank's and a man who had not liked Diane very much in the beginning  of  their  relationship,  believing  she  was  all wrong  for  his  good  buddy  Frank.  Later,  Diane  had identi?ed  Izzy's  only  child  as  one  of  many  students who died in an off-campus explosion. Rather than hat­ ing  the  messenger,  he  had  changed.  The  experience had formed a kind of bond between them. They both had  lost  an  only  child  to  violence.
Izzy  had  lost  a  lot  of  weight.  He  used  to  be  a  big, barrel-chested guy, but he was thin now. Not lean and trim, but almost wasted looking. Diane guessed it was grief.  She  ushered  him  into  her  sitting  room.
"How  are  you  and  your  wife  doing?"  she  asked.
He shrugged. "One day at a time. People at church have  been  real  helpful."  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of the  sofa.  "You  know,  you  always  want  somebody  to make  sense  of  it."  He  shook  his  head  in  a  mournful way.  "But  there  just  isn't  any  sense  to  it."
"No,"  said  Diane,  "there's  not."
He  turned  down  an  offer  of  a  drink.
"Not   unless   you   have   something   stronger   than soda,"  he  said  with  a  weak  laugh.
Diane wasn't sure if he was completely kidding. She sympathized.  She  had  gone  through  all  the  stages  of mourning  too.  She  sat  down  in  the  chair  next  to  the sofa.
"I keep meaning to hide some good Kentucky bour­ bon  here  for  dif?cult  times.  But  we  have  so  many demanding  days,  I'd  be  drinking  all  the  time,"  she said,  smiling.
"I  hear  you  there,"  he  said.  "Dif?cult  times.  They keep  coming,  don't  they?"
"Sometimes it  seems that way," said  Diane. "What can  I  do  for  you?"
"It's  about  the  murder,"  he  said.
"Jefferies   was   here   just   yesterday,"   said   Diane, "about  the  crime  lab."
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  She was surprised they'd sent Izzy and not a detec­ tive to interview her. Not that Izzy couldn't do a good job,  but  she  thought  he  worked  the  desk  now.  She supposed  they  ?gured  she  had  little  to  add  to  what they  already  knew.  After  all,  Garnett  was  also  in  the meeting.  He  could  tell  them  everything  she  could.
  "I  know,"  said  Izzy.  "I  didn't  come  to  talk  to  you about  that-that  is,  not  exactly.  We-me  and  several police  buddies-would  like  you  to  investigate."
  Diane  hadn't  expected  that.  "What?  Me?  Why?  I can't  intrude  on  an  ongoing  investigation.  Certainly not  one  of  this  signi?cance.  And  I  have  no  standing to  investigate."
"We  got  it  ?gured  out,"  said  Izzy.
"I  don't  understand.  Why  would  you  want  me  to investigate?"  she  asked.
"Because  Edgar  Peeks  will  be  in  charge  of  the  in­ vestigation,"  Izzy  said.  "We  don't  trust  him."
Diane was still not understanding. She'd heard there was  no  love  lost  between  the  rank-and-?le  policemen and the new chief of police, but she didn't know why.
So  why  would  they  want  her  to  investigate?
"I  don't-"  began  Diane.
"It's not out yet, but they're arresting Douglas Gar- nett  for  the  murder,"  said  Izzy.  "Peeks  is  just  going to  hang  it  on  him  with  no  investigation.  And  that'll be  it."
Chapter 16
"They're  going  to  arrest  Garnett?  That's  ridiculous," said  Diane.
"It  is,  but  lunacy  has  never  stopped  the  likes  of Edgar  Peeks  before,"  said  Izzy.
"Tell  me  what  happened.  Why  does  he  think  Gar- nett  is  the  murderer?"  Despite  herself,  Diane  leaned forward,  anxious  to  hear  the  story.
"After  they  left  here  yesterday,  Garnett  and  the mayor  got  into  a  big  argument  down  at  the  police station. I tell you, you really pissed Jefferies and Peeks off  when  you  told  them  to  take  the  crime  lab  out  of the  museum.  They  considered  it  the  jewel  in  their crown. It was really important to them." Izzy grinned broadly.  "I've  never  seen  Chief  Peeks  so  mad."
"I  wasn't  taking  away  the  lab.  I  just  told  them  to move  it,"  said  Diane.  "What  was  the  problem?"
"They  wanted  the  whole  enchilada-the  crime  lab, the bone lab, and the DNA lab. They especially wanted the DNA lab, and as long as the crime lab was in the museum,  they  had  a  chance  of  getting  control  of  all of  them-they  thought.  You  come  along  and  throw  a wrench  in  their  plans.  Then  they  ?nd  out  the  city doesn't even own some of the expensive equipment in the  crime  lab;  you  do.  Like  I  said,  they  were  really pissed.  Warrick-you  remember  her?"
Diane  nodded.  Janice  Warrick  was  a  detective  she had  butted  heads  with  when  she  ?rst  moved  back  to Rosewood  but  who  later  became  a  trusted  colleague if  not  a  friend.
  "Well,   Warrick   overheard   the   mayor   talking   to Peeks about replacing you as director of the museum," he  said.
  Diane laughed. "What? The mayor has no authority over  the  museum  or  me."
  Izzy  nodded  and  gestured  with  his  hands.  "I  know, but  you  see,  that's  the  way  they  look  at  everything. You'd think Jefferies was elected emperor of the uni­ verse and not mayor of Rosewood. They're crazy. And let  me  tell  you,  you  were  making  them  crazier."
  "Who  knew  I  had  so  much  power,"  Diane  com­ mented  drily.  "Did  they  say  how  they  proposed  to replace  me?"  said  Diane.
"No,  but  I  wouldn't  have  put  anything  past  them," said  Izzy.
Diane  hadn't  liked  the  mayor, or  the  people  he  as­ sociated with, and had serious doubts about which di­ rection  their  moral  compass pointed,  but  still  she  was surprised  at  the  picture  Izzy  was  painting  of  them.
She said, "I know they wanted Garnett to lie about who  the  forensic  anthropology  lab  belonged  to,  but how  could  they  possibly  think  they  would  get  away with  that?  I  keep  more  records  than  the  IRS."
"I  don't  know.  They  just  like  to  throw  everything at  an  enemy  at  once,  hoping  to  overwhelm  them,  I suppose. Make them more willing to negotiate. That's why  they  threatened  to  arrest  you,  you  know.  They don't  have  much  of  a  prayer  to  do  that."
"Why?"  asked  Diane.
"Because the bottom of the gorge is just across the county  line.  The  GBI  handled  the  scene.  Didn't  you know  that?"
Of course, the county line; she had forgotten. Diane felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She realized that she was truly afraid that she was going to be arrested and  framed.
"You  been  worried  about  that?"  he  said.
Diane  nodded.
"Can't  say  as  I  blame  you.  Who  knows  how  those people think? They might have tried to come up with something. I know they would have pulled some other dirty trick out of their hat to back up what they were saying  about  your  bone  lab.  They  would  have  given you a run for your money. Kept you real busy dealing with  them  anyway."
"Tell  me  more  about  Garnett  and  the  mayor,"  said Diane.
Izzy  sat  back  on  the  couch.
Diane could see this was going to be a long conver­ sation.  "Would  you  like  me  to  have  the  restaurant send  us  up  lunch?"  she  asked.
"That would be nice," said Izzy. He grinned. "You sort  of  have  a  little  kingdom  here,  don't  you?"
"A  lot  of  people  think  so,"  said  Diane.
"Sort  of  queen  of  your  domain,"  he  said.
"No, just the queen's knight. Vanessa's the queen," said  Diane.
"I  hear  you  there.  Lunch  would  be  nice.  I  tend  to skip  meals  since  Evie's  been  working  with  this  anti­ drug  group.  She's  trying  to  make  some  meaning  out of Donald's death. I guess I should learn how to cook, but  I  don't  have  much  of  an  appetite  anymore."
Diane  ordered  a  couple  of  steaks,  baked  potatoes, a  salad,  and  chocolate  cake,  and  asked  that  it  be brought  to  her  of?ce.
"I  won't  turn  down  a  good  steak,"  said  Izzy.  He looked  like  he  might  have  found  his  appetite.
Diane took a pile of books and papers off the table and readied it for lunch. She and Izzy made small talk until  it  arrived.  He  seemed  to  appreciate  the  break.
Diane  knew  what  a  struggle  it  was  for  him  and  his wife-looking   for   meaning   where   there   was   none, looking  for  closure  that  didn't  exist.
"They  tell  me  you  moved  from  your  apartment," he  said.
"They  asked  me  to  leave,"  said  Diane.  "Too  many things happening in and around my apartment for them."
"I  hadn't  heard  that.  Who  asked  you  to  leave?" said  Izzy.
"My  neighbors.  They  met  with  my  landlady  and took  a  vote."
"You know that's not legal," said Izzy. "You could have  fought  it."
"I know, but I understood their position. Sometimes you  just  need  some  peace,"  said  Diane.
Izzy  nodded.  "You're  right  about  that.  Sometimes you  just  need  peace."
He  stared  off  in  the  distance  for  a  moment,  then looked back at her and gave half a laugh as if embar­ rassed  for  getting  lost  in  thought.
"How's  Frank  treating  you?"  he  said.  "He  hasn't played  that  accordion  of  his  for  you,  has  he?"
Diane  laughed.  "No,  but  he  is  teaching  me  the piano,"  she  said.
"Piano.  That's  nice.  Evie  plays  a  little  bit."
It  didn't  take  long  for  the  order  to  arrive.  Izzy looked  at  the  food  like  he'd  never  seen  food  before, or  like  it  reminded  him  of  a  life  he  used  to  have.
Diane  remembered  what  it  was  like  to  not  have  an appetite,  having  grief  eat  at  the  pit  of  your  stomach so  you  thought  it  would  never  hold  anything  again.
She  also  remembered  that  when  she  began  eating again,  her  body  started  coping  better.
"This  is  really  good,"  said  Izzy  after  taking  a  couple of  bites  of  his  steak.  "I  can't  remember  the  last  time  I had  a  really  good  meal.  I  need  to  bring  Evie  to  the restaurant  here  soon.  We  haven't  been  out  together since, well, since before . . ." He let the sentence trail off.
"I  do  like  the  food  here,"  said  Diane.
Izzy ate a few more bites, took a long drink of tea, set the glass down, and paused as if not really wanting to  talk  about  what  he  had  come  for.  Diane  under­ stood.  This  must  be  a  tiny  respite  for  him.
"You  ever  wonder  why  Garnett  didn't  just  ?nd  a new job, maybe in Atlanta, the way they were treating him? It would have been the smart thing to do rather than waiting for them to replace him like we all knew 	Beverly  Connor they  would."  Izzy  didn't  wait  for  an  answer.  "He  did it for the rest of us. Peeks began showing himself early on, and Garnett saw what political animals Peeks and Jefferies were. Not that Garnett's a stranger to politics himself,   but   he's  always   been   good   to  the   people under  him."
"And  Peeks  wasn't?"  said  Diane.  "Didn't  he  and Jefferies   purchase   new   state-of-the-art   bulletproof vests  for  the  police?"
Izzy made a derisive noise. "State-of-the-art my . . .	
Those  vests  were  so  old  they  wouldn't  stop  rubber bullets.  Everything  they  did  was  just  for  show.  They made  sure  the  newspapers  made  a  big  deal  of  it,  but like  I  said,  it  was  just  show.  We  ?gured  they  ordered out-of-date vests and pocketed the rest of the money, but  we  can't  prove  it."
"That's disappointing," said Diane. "Did anyone in­ form  the  newspapers?"
"We  tried  to  leak  it,  but  they  sent  a  couple  of vests-good  ones-over  to  the  newspaper  of?ce  to show them. They're slick. Garnett thinks Jefferies was planning a run for governor and maybe from there to senator,  and  we  were  just  a  stepping-stone."
"What  do  you  think?"  asked  Diane.
"I  agree.  We  were  just  a  stepping-stone."
"You  said  Garnett  stayed  to  help.  With  what  ex­ actly?"  asked  Diane.
"Peeks likes to replace people. You know that; you were  one  of  them  he  replaced.  But  you  at  least  had another  job.  He  was  getting  rid  of  people  who  didn't have  a  fallback  position.  People  with  families,  people with  a  pension  coming.  Garnett  fought  for  them.  He got  Colin  Prehoda  involved.  Put  a  stop  to  a  lot  of  it.
Prehoda drove them crazy too. They hated not getting their  way.  They  started  in  on  Garnett,  trying  to  re­ move  him.  Had  him  investigated  by  Internal  Affairs, accused him of malfeasance when he was chief of de­ tectives.  It  blew  up  big  when  he  refused  to  say  you turned  over  the  bone  lab  to  the  city.  Garnett  was heard  threatening  the  mayor.  He  said  somebody  like SCATTERED  GRAVES him didn't deserve to be around decent people, didn't deserve  to  be  around  at  all.  Something  like  that." Wow,  thought  Diane.  She  had  no  idea  she  had  be­ come such a part of local politics. "Is there any other evidence  against  Garnett?"  asked  Diane.
  "He was seen leaving the mayor's house at the right time," said Izzy. "Really, I'm not sure what they have. Peeks  isn't  saying  much."
"What  does  Garnett  say?"  asked  Diane.
"Nothing much at the moment. Colin Prehoda's his attorney,  and  you  know  how  they  are.  They  tell  you to shut up," said Izzy. "That's probably a good thing."
"Who  is  working  the  crime  scene?"  asked  Diane, hoping that it was the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and  not  Bryce."
"I don't know that anybody is right now," said Izzy.
"But  I  imagine  it  will  be  Bryce.  At  least  Neva  and David  will  do  a  good  job."
"David  resigned,"  said  Diane.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." He paused for several moments.  "You  know,  I  just  can't  see  Edgar  Peeks inviting  the  GBI  in."
"He may not have a choice. Having a mayor gunned down might attract the people in Homeland Security," she  said.
"I  don't  know  if  that  would  be  good  or  bad,"  said Izzy.  "I  don't  trust  Bryce.  He  doesn't  seem  too  bright to me. On the other hand, I don't want the state or the feds  to  get  the  idea  that  Garnett  might  be  involved.
Sometimes it's better to deal with the devil you know."
"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  asked  Diane.
"Find  out  who  killed  the  mayor,"  said  Izzy.
"You  don't  want  much.  I  don't  have  any  standing in this. I wouldn't be allowed to investigate," she said.
"Like  I  said,  we  got  that  worked  out.  There's  a private  investigator  in  Atlanta  who's  going  to  let  you work  under  his  license.  Prehoda's  setting  it  up.  You just  have  to  let  him  hire  you,  temporary  like,"  said Izzy.  "It  was  my  idea,"  he  added,  grinning.
Shit,  thought  Diane.  She  liked  the  idea.
Chapter 17
The house that Spence Jefferies lived and died in was one of the larger homes in Rosewood. It had a bright gray stone exterior, arched windows, several chimneys, and  dark  gray  multiple  roof  peaks  embellished  with small  tapering  towers.  It  had  a  circular  drive  with  a locked gate at the entrance, which was why Diane was standing  on  the  street  in  the  cold  waiting  for  Colin Prehoda  to  come  let  her  in.
  Douglas  Garnett  had  hired  Colin  as  his  attorney. Colin  had  set  it  up  so  that  technically  Diane  and  the detective   agency   she   was   temporarily   attached   to worked  for  him.  That  way,  most  of  her  discoveries would  be  the  work  product  for  his  client.  This  gave her access to the evidence and got her past those who did  not  want  her  involved.
  Most  of  the  police  she  had  dealt  with  on  this  case were  forthcoming,  anxious  to  help.  They  supported Garnett.  But  there  were  those  who  were  against  him. Very  few  people  were  undecided.  A  few  were  hostile to  the  point  that  when  they  met  her  in  the  hallways they  brushed  close  to  her,  hitting  her  shoulder  with theirs as they passed. Diane supposed that was meant to  intimidate,  but  she  didn't  ?nd  it  particularly  intim­ idating. For her it delineated whose side they were on. It  was  like  wearing  a  uniform,  showing  your  colors, ?ying a ?ag. It had been an interesting couple of days. As  she  waited  outside  the  gate  she  studied  a  ?oor plan  of  the  house.  It  was  a  little  over  ?ve  thousand square feet. The trouble with large houses is there are too  many  doors  leading  to  the  outside.  She  doubted that  all  the  doors  were  even  listed  on  the  ?oor  plan she  had.  It  was  a  drawing  given  to  her  by  Colin,  and not the registered blueprints for the house. The draw­ ing  didn't  show  the  basement.  She  was  willing  to  bet there  were  several  more  outside  doors  to  the  base­ ment.
  Then there were the windows-big houses have lots of windows. Of course, big houses have alarm systems. The mayor's hadn't gone off the night he was killed- leading  everyone  to  believe  that  he  knew  who  killed him,  had  let  the  murderer  in.
  Colin  said  there  was  an  approach  from  the  rear  of the  estate,  a  sort  of  service  entrance  that  featured  a gate,  which  was  usually  locked.  Colin  said  the  mayor preferred  coming  in  that  way  because  it  was  hidden from  the  front  and  no  one  could  tell  when  he  came and  went.  Another  way  for  a  killer  to  come  and  go unnoticed,  she  thought.  The  mayor  didn't  have  cam­ eras  at  that  service  entrance.
  Diane had seen the autopsy reports. Colin had con­ vinced the judge that it was in everyone's best interest to move things along quickly. But getting information about the crime was like pulling teeth. Shane Eastling, the new medical examiner, was slow to comply with the judge's order to give all the information to Colin. East- ling had delayed, saying the reports weren't ready, that his copier was broken, that he had to be out of his lab for  a   while,  that   his  secretary   was  out  sick.  Diane camped  outside  his  of?ce  with  a  portable  copier  and he  ?nally  complied.  It  didn't  surprise  her  that  his unfriendliness bordered on hostility, but it was unusual- Diane  normally  got  along  well  with  medical  exam­ iners.
It did come to her attention that Shane Eastling was a  friend  of  Jennifer  Jeffcote-Smith  and  had  recom­ mended her to Bryce. Perhaps Eastling thought Diane should  have  given  up  her  lab  and  her  position  as  fo­ rensic  anthropologist  to  Jennifer.  A  rather  unreason­ able  view  to  take,  she  thought.
  The  autopsies  showed  part  of  what  Diane  already knew-the mayor had died from a gunshot to the back of  the head.  According to  the reports,  the mayor  had a  contact  wound  and  no  defensive  marks.
Bryce's  report  was  interesting  in  what  it  left  out- blood  evidence.  They  had  collected  no  samples.  They did   ?nd   ?ngerprints   belonging   to   Garnett   in   the kitchen  and  on  a  table  in  the  foyer.  Investigating  de­ tectives  had  located  a  witness  who  saw  Garnett's  car leave  the  mayor's  house.  They  had  a  security-camera tape  showing  Garnett  enter  and  leave  through  the gate.  Neither  Diane  nor  Colin  had  seen  the  tape.  It was another piece of evidence Peeks was delaying giv­ ing to them, and it made Colin suspicious. If it showed Garnett,  that  was  powerful  evidence  in  the  prosecu­ tor's favor. So what was the problem? Diane suspected Lloyd Bryce and Edgar Peeks were just generally try­ ing  to  give  them  a  hard  time.
Diane  hadn't  spoken  with  Garnett  yet.  She  wanted to get the feel of the crime scene before she met with him  face-to-face.  Colin  told  her  Garnett  had  indeed met  with  the  mayor  at his  home  very  brie?y.  Garnett told  Colin  he  was  trying  to  reason  with  the  mayor about the crime lab. He said he was trying to convince the mayor that Diane's idea of putting it near the police station  was  a  good  one  and  that  the  city  would  have more control over it there than in the museum. Garnett also  said  the  mayor  was  threatening  to  ?re  Neva.
"So,  that's  what  Garnett  was  doing  there,"  said Diane.  "He  was  still  trying  to  protect  his  police  of?­ cers."  At  least  Neva  had  a  fallback  position  at  the museum,  she  thought.  Garnett  probably  didn't  know that.
Colin drove up in his charcoal Escalade and parked it   behind   Diane's   red   Explorer.   He   got   out   and greeted Diane as he crossed the street. He walked up to the gate and looked at it as if expecting it to open.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "I'm going to have to keep pushing on everything," he  said  matter-of-factly.  "The  crime  scene  crew  said they  were  ?nished,  but  when  I  asked  to  do  a  walk­ through,  Peeks  tried  to  stop  me,  saying  they  are  still ?nishing  up.  The  guy's  throwing  up  road  blocks  at every turn. However"-he patted his coat pocket-"I have our ticket in-a court order. And this." He stuck his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a  key  that  he dangled  before  him  with  a  smile.
  The  black  wrought-iron  gate  was  equipped  with  a simple  lock,  not  one  that  would  keep  a  serious  gate crasher   out,   but   it   was   apparently   causing   Colin some  problems.
  "That's the problem with skeleton keys; you have to ?ddle  with  them.  There,"  he said  as  the  gate  opened.
"They  didn't  give  you  a  key?"  said  Diane.
"No. Peeks said he would meet us. But I'm dubious of  any  good  intentions  on  his  part,  so  I  brought  my own.  I  doubt  he  is  here.  I  don't  see  his  car.  These gates  are  pretty  straightforward."
"What  about  the  house?"  asked  Diane.  "How  are we  going  to  get  in?"
Colin  grinned.  "This  house  used  to  belong  to  a  cli­ ent  of  mine.  He  gave  me  a  key  to  one  of  the  side doors   that   Spence   probably   didn't   get   around   to changing  the  locks  on."
"Which door is it?" Diane looked at her ?oor plan.
"To  the  basement,  around  back.  It's  not  on  the drawings  I  gave  you,"  he  said.
Diane stopped in the middle of the circular drive to get  a  good  look  at  the  house.  All  the  curtains  were drawn.  Bryce  said  they  had  left  things  as  they  were, but she didn't know if they really had. Like Colin, she was  dubious.  There  was  no  shrubbery  near  the  win­ dows,  no  place  an  intruder  might  hide.  The  windows were  all  closed. She  wouldn't  be  able to  tell  until  she got  into  the  house  whether  they  were  locked.  She looked at the second-story windows. They were closed as  well.
"You'd  need  a  ladder  to  get  to  the  second  ?oor,"
	Beverly  Connor said  Colin.  He  stood  beside  Diane  with  his  hands  in his  pockets,  looking  at  the  house.
Diane  glanced  over  the  rough  stone  exterior.  "A rock  climber  could  do  it,"  she  said.
"Really?"  said  Colin.  "A  rock  climber  could  climb up that wall-with  no trees or ledges to  grab on to?"
"Sure.  My  geology  curator  could  climb  the  face  of the  museum,"  she  said.
"The   museum?   Really?   People   can   actually   do things  like  that?"  he  asked.
Diane  nodded. "Mike  is  among  an elite  group  who can  do  very  dif?cult  climbs.  But  this  house  wouldn't be  that  hard.  I  could  do  it."
"You  could?  Amazing.  I  had  no  idea.  That's  so Spider-Man."
"I  can't  spin  a  web,"  said  Diane.
"Glad to hear it. I was starting to feel inferior," he said.  "So,  if  one  of the  upper  windows  was  unlocked, a  skilled  rock  climber  wouldn't  ?nd  it  too  dif?cult  to climb  up  and  get  in  the  window?"
"That's true," said Diane. "Or a second-story man.
You know, don't you, there is a class of burglars who specialize  in  that  MO."
Colin   looked   around.   "I   don't   see   any   sign   of Peeks,"  he  said.  "He  probably  thinks  he's  letting  us cool  our  heels  waiting  for  him.  So,  shall  we  go  ?nd our  basement  door?"
"We  could  try  knocking  on  the  front  door  ?rst,"
Diane  said.  She  started  toward  the  door.  "I  think  it's open." There was a small crack where the door stood open  about  an  inch.  "I  think  we've  maligned  Mr.
Peeks  unnecessarily  and  he's  probably  been  listening, snickering  at  our  paranoia."
Colin  laughed.  "I  hope  so."
Diane  opened  the  door  and  walked  into  the  foyer.
The  ?rst  thing  she  saw  was  Garnett  kneeling  on  the marble   ?oor   next   to   the   body   of   Chief   of   Police Edgar  Peeks.
Chapter 18
The second thing Diane noticed was the pool of bright red  blood  staining  the  white  marble  ?oor.  A  small trickle of blood  had ?owed toward the wall.  For such an  expensive  house  it  was  surprising  that  the  ?oor wasn't  completely  level.
They  stood  there  for  a  moment  staring  at  one  an­ other  before  anyone  said  anything.
"I  guess  Peeks  showed  up  after  all,"  said  Colin.
Garnett  slowly  stood  up.  "I  called  the  police,"  he said.
Diane  just  then  heard  the  distant  sirens.
"I  know  this  doesn't  look  good,"  said  Garnett.
"What  happened?"  she  said.
"We  can  discuss  that  later,"  said  Colin.
Always  the  lawyer,  thought  Diane.  Colin  doesn't want  me  to  hear  anything  just  yet.
"I found him like this," said Garnett. He wanted to profess his innocence. Natural reaction-guilty or not.
Diane's  gaze  darted  around  the  foyer.  They  were standing at the base of a winding staircase that led to the  second  ?oor.  To  the  left,  the  room  that  was  la­ beled PARLOR  on her drawings looked to be a study- all dark wood and leather. The desk was covered with papers, and the wood ?ling cabinet was open. Several books  were  piled  on  chairs.
From  where  Diane  stood,  she  could  see  into  the living  room.  The  drapes  covered  the  windows  and French  doors.  She  saw  no  bloody  footprints  on  the white  marble.  Too  bad.  Nothing's  ever  easy.
  "Did  you  see  anyone  else?"  asked  Diane.  "When did  you  get  here?"
"Just  a  few  minutes  ago.  And  no,  I  didn't  see  any­ one  else,"  said  Garnett.
"Why  are  you  here?"  asked  Diane.
"Colin  told  me  to  come,"  he  said.
Colin  looked  startled.  "No,  I  didn't."
"Your  secretary  sent  me  a  text  message  to  meet you  here,"  Garnett  said.  "On  my  cell  phone."
"My  secretary  doesn't  text.  She's  against  it,"  said Colin.  "Inexorably."
Diane  frowned  at  Garnett.  "Shouldn't  you  be  too experienced  to  fall  for  this?"  she  said.  "Obviously someone set you up. Why didn't you call Colin or me before  you  came?"
"I'm  ashamed  to  say,  it  didn't  occur  to  me.  I  knew you were coming. I thought you wanted me to walk you through  my  visit  here  the  other  night,"  said  Garnett.
"How  did  you  get  here?"  said  Diane.  "Where's your  car?  Where's  Peeks'  car?"
There were so many questions running through her mind, and she wanted to get answers to most of them before  the  police  arrived.  But  the  sirens  were  getting louder.
"The  back  way.  That's  what  the  text  said.  It  said, 'Front   locked,   use   back.'   My   car's   parked   behind Peeks'.  His  is  in  the  small  garage.  Mine's  right  be­ hind  it."
"No  other  cars?"  asked  Diane.  She  noticed  Colin wasn't  stopping  her.  Probably  decided  the  questions might  be  useful.
"None,"  he  said.
"This isn't good," said Diane. "How did you get in the  house?"
"Through  the  garage  into  the  kitchen.  I  called  out.
When  no  one  answered,  I  came  to  open  the  front door for you to get in when you arrived. This is what I  found."
"The  door  was  cracked  a  bit;  did  you  do  that?" she  asked.
Garnett  shook  his  head.  "No.  I  stopped  here  when I  found  him."
Diane  took  a  quick  look  at  the  body.  He  lay  face­ down with one arm out to the side and the other one under  his  torso.
"I'm  going  to  see  if  he's  dead,"  she  said.
Diane  knew  he  was  dead,  but  she  wanted  to  touch the body to see how long, and she wanted all of them to  be  able  to  state  a  reason  when  the  police  asked  if they  touched  the  body.
It  was  warm.  Peeks  hadn't  been  dead  long.
He wore a suit, good quality, and as far as she could tell with him sprawled out on the ?oor, it ?t. She gently lifted  his  coat  to  see  if  his  gun  was  there.  It  was.  She saw  the  holster  for  his  cell  phone.  It  was  empty.  She wondered  if  he  had it in his  hand  under his  body.
Diane  gently  replaced  the  edge  of  his  suit  coat  in its  former  position.  She  stood  up  and  glanced  at  the corner  of  a  fruitwood  hall  chest  on  which  there  sat  a bust  of  Alexander  the  Great.  Didn't  need  Freud  to ?gure that  one out. The  chest had ?ngerprint  dust on one  corner  near  the  bust.
She  wanted  to  go  through  the  house,  particularly the kitchen, but the house was a crime scene-again- and  she  knew  better  than  to  contaminate  it.  But  she was  tempted.  Colin  and  Garnett  stood  quietly  looking at her. She imagined they could read her mind, and she wasn't  sure  they  would  stop  her  if  she  decided  to  go through the house. But she didn't. It was a crime scene.
"Did  you  hear  anything  at  all?"  said  Diane.
"Nothing  at  all,"  he  said.
Diane  heard  sirens  draw  close,  then  abruptly  stop.
They  were  here.  She  turned  to  Colin.  "When  it's  re­ leased  again,  I  want  to  go  through  the  house."
He nodded. They waited as the police came through the  door.  The  ?rst  person  in  was  Curtis  Crabtree.
Diane guessed he was playing detective today. Behind him  was  Janice  Warrick.  Partly  good,  thought  Diane.
Janice  was  a  friend  of  Garnett's.  Shane  Eastling,  the medical examiner, walked in behind them, then Lloyd Bryce  and  Rikki  Gillinick.
"What  happened?"  Janice  was  the  ?rst  to  speak.
"I  need  all  of  you  to  get  out  of  my  crime  scene," said  Bryce.
"Just  a  minute,"  said  Janice.  "Right  now  it's  our crime  scene.  And  I  want  to  know  what  happened."
Colin spoke up ?rst. "We came here to walk through the  crime  scene,  and  this  is  what  we  found."
Diane  noticed  that  Colin  didn't  elaborate.  Neither she  nor  Garnett  said  anything.  But  they  couldn't  go with this story for long. Garnett and Janice made eye contact.  She  knew  there  was  more.  Diane  looked  at Bryce  standing  holding  his  case,  doing  a  slow  fume, then  at  Curtis.  He  had  a  smirk  on  his  face  as  he looked  from  Garnett  to  Diane.
"Eastling,"  Curtis  said  to  the  medical  examiner, "look  at  the  body  and  tell  me  what  you  can.  Bryce, you have the scene after that." The sound of his voice indicated  he  was  in  charge  and  no  one  had  better argue  with  him  about  it.
"I'll  talk  to  the  witnesses  outside,"  Curtis  added.
He said it as if he were going to beat them up. This isn't  going  to  be  fun,  thought  Diane.  All  in  all,  she'd rather  be  having  her  teeth  pulled.
Two policemen were outside.  Diane didn't recognize one. The other was Pendleton. He also gave Diane the evil  eye.  Janice  came  out  after  a  moment.
"Gunshot  to  the  back  of  the  head,"  she  said.  "Like Jefferies."
Curtis  nodded.  "What  the  hell  happened?"
Garnett began speaking. Colin shot him a look, but Garnett  went  ahead.  He  always  had  such  contempt when  suspects  hid  behind  lawyers,  as  he  often  put  it.
Diane guessed he was unwilling to do the same-even if  there  was  good  reason.
"I got a text message for me to come to the house," he  said.
  Colin opened his mouth to speak, but Garnett waved him  off.
  "I thought it was from my lawyer. It was not. I got here  and  found  the  body.  I  called  the  police  immedi­ ately.  Diane  and  Colin  arrived  a  few  minutes  later. That  is  all  I  know."
  "Well,  it  looks  like  you  are  in  a  bit  of  hot  water," said Curtis. "You were arrested for killing the mayor. And  through  some  miracle  or  jurist  malpractice  you get  out  on  bail,  and  the  ?rst  thing  you  do  is  go  kill the  chief  of  police."
"I  didn't  kill  him,"  said  Garnett.
Curtis  called  over  to  the  two  policemen  and  told them to take Garnett into custody. Colin didn't try to stop  them.  Diane  assumed  he  was  going  to  make  his case to the judge, deciding that Curtis wasn't a person to  be  reasoned  with.  Diane  agreed.
"Don't  say  anything  until  I  get  there,"  said  Colin.
"He's  already  said  enough,"  said  Curtis.
Colin  ignored  him  and  started  for  his  car.
"Just a damn minute," said Curtis. "I'm not ?nished with  you.  The  chief  of  police  has  been  murdered  and I  ?nd  you  on  the  scene.  You've  got  to  answer  some questions."
"I  have  a  court  order  saying  I  have  a  right  to  be here," said Colin. "We entered and found the body."
"Garnett  was  already  there  when  you  entered?" said  Curtis.
"He  had  just  gotten  there,  yes,"  said  Colin.
"But  you  hadn't  asked  him  to  come,"  said  Curtis.
"What  I  say  to  a  client  is  privileged,"  said  Colin.
"Garnett  just  said-"  began  Curtis.
"Nevertheless,  what  we  say  to  each  other  is  con?­ dential  and  protected,"  interrupted  Colin.
Curtis  turned  to  Diane.
"She  works  for  me  in  my  representation  of  Gar- nett,"  said  Colin.  "Anything  that  passed  between  us is  protected  as  well."
"I could put her in jail until she talks," Curtis said, 	Beverly  Connor looking  at  Diane.  "She  may  still  be  arrested  for  kill­ ing  Delamore."
"Is  that  what  the  GBI  said  I  did?"  asked  Diane.
Curtis   ignored   her.   "Did   any   of   you   touch   the body?"  he  asked.
"I  did,"  said  Diane.  "I  checked  to  see  if  he  was dead."
"He was shot in the back of the head," said Curtis.
"I  didn't  know  what  his  wound  was,"  said  Diane.
"I only saw blood. He could  have needed help. I had a  duty  to  see  if  there  was  anything  we  could  do  for him."
Curtis  studied  her  for  a  moment.  Then  he  turned to  Colin.
"How  did  you  get  in  the  gate?"  asked  Curtis.  "It was  locked."
"Really?  When  you  got  here  it  was  locked?"  said Colin.
"No, smart guy, the gate has been kept locked since the  mayor's  death,"  he  said.  "How  did  you  get  in?"
"I  have  a  court  order,  and  Peeks  was  meeting  me to  walk  through  the  house.  He  said  he  was  going  to leave  the  gate  open  for  me.  Presumably  that's  what he  did."
Colin  didn't  seem  to  mind  lying  to  the  detective.
Diane  felt  uncomfortable  with  it,  but  she  understood.
She  kept  her  mouth  shut  and  her  face  noncommittal.
"He  said . . .  ,"  began  Curtis,  and  stopped.
"Who  said  what?"  asked  Colin.
"Nothing,"  said  Curtis.
So, Diane thought, Peeks told at least Curtis he was going  to  keep  them  waiting  at  the  gate.  That  wasn't a  surprise.
"We  have  told  you  all  we  know.  Now  I'm  going  to my  client."  Colin  turned  and  walked  off.
"Let  him  go,"  said  Janice.  "He's  right."
"The  hell  he  is,"  said  Curtis,  but  he  didn't  try  to follow.  Instead  he  turned  his  attention  to  Diane.
She  assumed  that  Colin  ?gured  that  anyone  who could  scale  a  wall  could  take  care  of  herself.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"Do  you  have  anything  to  add?"  he  said.
"We  came  here  to  look  at  the  house.  I  don't  sup­ pose  you'd  let  me  do  that,"  said  Diane.
"Hell no," he said. "That court order isn't any good now.  There's  been  another  murder."
"I  ?gured  as  much,"  said  Diane.
Diane could see that Curtis was in a personal quan­ dary.  He  really  wanted  to  do  something  to  her.  But at  the  moment  all  he  could  manage  was  harsh  words, and not many of those. He looked as if he would like to  smack  her  right  there.
The ambulance arrived at that moment. It came up the drive and halted a few feet from them. Diane was relieved.  That  gave  Curtis  something  else  to  think about.
"You know where to ?nd me," she said and turned and  walked  off  as  Colin  had.
She  half  expected  him  to  run  after  her,  tackle  her to  the  ground,  and  handcuff  her,  but  she  heard  no footfalls. She walked down the drive and out the gate.
It was with some relief that she climbed into her SUV and  drove  off.
She  didn't  drive  far.  At  the  ?rst  opportunity  she pulled  off  the  road  and  took  out  her  cell  phone.  She sent  a  text  message  to  Detective  Janice  Warrick  and asked  her  to  take  pictures  of  the  house  and  surfaces.
She  didn't  know  if  Janice  had  a  camera  with  her,  but if  she  did,  perhaps  she  would  at  least  get  some  views of  the  interior  of  the  house.  Diane  didn't  know  now how  long  she  would  have  to  wait  to  get  inside  the house.
She  drove  back  to  the  museum  and  parked  in  her spot.  As  she  got  out  and  started  toward  the  door,  a small  Asian  woman,  about  ?fty  years  old,  dressed  in a   pantsuit,   with   a   camera   around   her   neck,   ap­ proached  her.
"Are  you  Dr. Diane  Fallon?"  she  asked,  smiling.
"Yes,"  said  Diane,  smiling  back.
The woman handed Diane a sheaf of folded papers.
"You've  been  served.  Have  a  good  day."
Chapter 19
Well, this is just great, thought Diane, standing on the steps looking at the papers she had been handed. I'm being sued. And didn't the sweet little lady just look so touristy  with  her  camera  around  her  neck.
  Diane  opened  the paper.  Jennifer  Jeffcote-Smith  vs. the  City  of  Rosewood.  Well,  thought  Diane.  I'm  not being sued. Rosewood is. She skimmed the document. And  for  a  lot  of  money.
She hurried up the steps and went to her of?ce be­ fore  any  other  strange  person  caught  sight  of  her.
"You've  gotten  a  lot  of  calls,"  said  Andie  as  she handed  Diane  her  mail.  "Reporters  are  calling  every ?ve  minutes.  They  want  to  know  about  the  wood- chipper  murderer.
"Refer  them  to  Sheriff  Can?eld,"  said  Diane.
"I do, but they want to talk with you," said Andie.
"Too  bad,"  said  Diane.
"They also want to ask about Delamore," said Andie.
"Tell  them  no  comment,"  said  Diane.
"Vanessa  phoned.  She's  back.  I  told  her  about  the Neanderthal  bones  that  Kendel  bought.  I  hope  you don't  mind.  I  couldn't  help  it.  It's  just  so  cool."
Diane smiled as she went through the mail. "That's ?ne.  Was  she  excited?"
"Oh,  yes.  She's  already  planning  the  opening  party for  the  exhibit."
"It's  going  to  be  a  while.  We  have  a  long  way  to go,"  said  Diane.  "Anything  else?"
  "You got several calls from someone who wouldn't leave  a  name,  some  woman."
  "Probably   the   process   server   who   just   gave   me this."  Diane  waved  the  papers.
  "Process server? Are we getting sued?" Andie's eyes went  round  and  worried.
  "No.  Rosewood  is.  Ms.  Jeffcote-Smith,  the  newly hired  forensic  anthropologist,  was  ?red.  Her  lawyer wants  me  as  a  witness,"  said  Diane.
  "Oh,  well,  as  long  as  it's  not  us,"  said  Andie.  To her,  anything  associated  with  the  museum  was  "us." Diane  appreciated  her  loyalty.
Andie  handed  Diane  several  pink  pieces  of  paper.
"Here are the other messages. Nothing urgent. Some­ one wants to donate his collection of fossil coprolites.
I  took  his  name."
"That's  redundant,"  said  Diane.
"What?"
"Fossil coprolites. Coprolites are fossils," said Diane, opening a letter from the president of the local Rotary Club.  They  wanted  her  to  speak  next  month  at  their meeting.
"What  kind  of  fossils  are  they?"  said  Andie.
"Fossilized  excrement,"  said  Diane.
"Oooew," said Andie. "It must have been a prank, like  the  guy  last  month  who  wanted  to  sell  us  the carved  baculum  coffee  stirrers."
"Quite  possibly."  She  smiled  at  Andie.  "I'll  be  in my of?ce. You can ?eld all the scatological inquiries," she  said.
Diane  sat  down  behind  her  desk  and  went  through the  messages.  Andie  was  right.  Nothing  urgent.  Most were  from various  vendors. Diane  sorted through  her messages  and  put  most  of  them  aside.  She  picked  up the  phone  and  called  Vanessa,  who  had  just  returned from  a  family  reunion  in  Ohio.
"How  was  your  trip?"  said  Diane.
"Lovely, interesting, and a bit tiring. Never seen so many really old people in one place," she said, laugh­ ing. "You know it's going to be either terribly interest­ ing or terribly boring when your doctors want to come along  to  your  family  reunion."
  Vanessa's  family  was  long-lived  and  the  object  of study for the Center for Research on Aging. Her grand­ mother had recently died at 114 years old. Her mother was  approaching  a  hundred,  and  several  other  mem­ bers of her family were centenarians. Diane imagined the  whole  family together  was  too  much of  a  tempta­ tion  for  the  researchers  to  resist.
"I  imagine  they  reveled  in  the  data,"  said  Diane.
"Oh,  yes.  Mother  has  a  cousin  who  just  turned  a hundred and three, and of course my father's side has several  over  a  hundred."
"Your  father's  side?  I  don't  think  I  realized  that side  was  long-lived  too.  Coincidence  or  arranged?"
Diane  asked,  smiling  into  the  phone.
"That  is  one  of  your  science  ?ction  allusions,  isn't it?  Heinlein,"  said  Vanessa.
"I  didn't  know  you  were  so  well  versed  in  science ?ction,"  said  Diane.
"I'm  not.  I  think  it's  dreadful,  but  I  have  a  cousin who  kept  going  on  about  Methuselah's  Children."
"One  of  my  favorite  books,"  said  Diane.  "I  can see  how  it  appealed  to  your  cousin."  Diane  paused a  moment,  absently  ?ngering  the  summons  on  her desk.   "Andie   said   she   told   you   about   the   Nean­ derthal."
"Indeed  she  did,  and  I  am  elated.  Have  you  seen the  bones  yet?"  she  asked.  "Are  they  nice  ones?"
"Kendel  says  they  are,"  said  Diane.  "She's  deliv­ ering  them  herself."
"Let   me   know   the   minute   they   arrive,"   said Vanessa.
"And  I've  ?led  notice  for  the  crime  lab  to  move out  of  the  museum,"  said  Diane.
"You've  been busy.  I'm  glad  we are  reclaiming  the space. I liked the crime lab; it was fascinating, but it's just  not  the  same  without  you  in  charge,"  Vanessa said.
  Diane  took  a  breath.  "I  suppose  you've  heard  the news  in  Rosewood,"  said  Diane.
  "I  heard  that  the  mayor  and  chief  of  police  have been murdered.  I must say,  I'm shocked. I  didn't like Jefferies, but to be murdered in your own home, that's a  frightening  thought.  And  this  just  a  month  after Judge  McNevin.  What  is  happening  to  my  town?" said  Vanessa.
  "I  don't  know."  Diane  ?lled  her  in  on  the  meeting with the mayor before the murders, including the fact that  he  wanted  to  have  her  replaced  as  director  of the  museum.
"What? How on earth did he plan to manage that?" asked  Vanessa.
"I don't have any idea. I think they were just talking through  their  hats,"  said  Diane.
She  told  Vanessa  about  the  debacle  with  the  new forensic  anthropologist  and  about  the  subpoena.  As she  spoke  she  heard  a  commotion  in  Andie's  of?ce.
It  sounded  like  someone  was  pushing  their  way  in.
"I need to go. There's apparently someone insistent on  seeing  me.  Let's  have  lunch  at  the  museum  this week  and  talk  about  the  primate  exhibit."  Diane  ?n­ ished  the  call  with  Vanessa  and  went  into  Andie's of?ce.
A  middle-aged  woman  wearing  a  ?owered  dress stood  in  front  of  Andie's  desk.  She  had  dyed  blond hair   with   gray   roots   and   carried   about   ?fty   extra pounds  evenly  distributed  over  her  body.  She  had  a large  black  purse  hanging  on  one  arm  and  two-inch black  heels  that  looked  to  be  too  small  for  her  feet.
"I  need  to  see  her.  I've  been  calling  all  day.  Now, let  me  see  her.  I'm  not  leaving  'til  I  do."
"Is  there  a  problem,  Andie?"  asked  Diane.
The woman turned toward Diane. "You're Dr. Fal­ lon.  I  recognize  you.  I  need  to  talk  to  you.  I've  been everywhere  else.  Please  just  give  me  a  minute."
"This  is  Mrs. Donovan,"  said  Andie.  "Her  son  has been  arrested  for  killing  Judge  McNevin."
  "Why  do  you  need  to see  me?"  asked  Diane.  "I'm the  museum  director."
  "Everybody   knows   you're   more   than   that,"   she said.
  Mrs. Donovan's  face  was  haggard  and  worn,  wrin­ kled  before  her  time,  but  she  had  beautiful  blue  eyes that  now  beseeched  Diane.
  "Come in. I'll give you a few minutes," said Diane. She  stood  aside  and  gestured  to  her  of?ce.
  "Thank  you,"  she  said  and  walked  past  Andie's desk  and  into  the  of?ce.
  Diane followed, leaving the door open a crack, and sat  down  at  her  desk.
  "I'll  get  to  the  point.  I'm  Clarice  Donovan,"  she said, sitting down in the chair in front of Diane's desk, scooting  it  closer  at  the  same  time.  "My  son  is  Evan Donovan.  He's  been  accused  of  killing  the  judge  that put  Bobby  away  for  life.  Bobby's  my  other  son.  I know my family's troubled. It would be what they call dysfunctional  on  the  Dr. Phil  show.  I  know  Bobby's done some bad things, and now he's in jail paying for it. But Evan's a good boy-I mean, he might do some little things, but he wouldn't kill nobody, and he didn't do  this.  I  can't  ?nd  anybody  to  look  into  it  for  me. The lawyer they assigned to him won't do nothing but try  to  get  Evan  to  plead  guilty.  Well,  he's  not  guilty. Isn't that lying in court if you say you done something and  you  didn't?"
  "What is  it you  think I can  do?" asked  Diane. The woman  must  be  truly  drawing  at  straws  if  she  ended up  here,  she  thought.
  "You can look into it. I know they say they got the evidence,  but  they  can't  have.  They've  made  some mistake."
"Why  did  you  come  to  see  me?"  repeated  Diane.
"The  crime  lab  here  did  the  evidence,"  she  said.
"I'm   no   longer  director   of   the   crime  lab,"   said Diane.
"But you could talk to the person who is," she said.
  If you only knew. "I assure you, the current director won't  listen  to  me,"  she  said.
  "But you could look into it. Somebody has to. You can't  just  lock  somebody  up  and  have  no  one  look into  their  case,"  she  said.
  "People  have  looked  into  it.  That's  why  he's  been arrested.  His  lawyer  will  have  to-"
  "Haven't  you  been  listening?  His  lawyer  won't  do anything.   The   prosecutor   and   the   detectives   won't even  talk  to  me-and  now  they're  dropping  like  ?ies themselves. I don't know what the world is coming to. It's  just  gone  crazy."
She stopped and took a breath and moved her chair a  bit  closer  to  Diane's  desk.
"That's one good thing about my boys being locked up.  They  can't  be  blamed  for  what's  going  on  now.
All I'm asking is that you look at the evidence. Surely you  can  do  that.  Something  is  wrong."
Diane  sat  there  wondering  why  in  the  world  she agreed  to  talk  with  the  woman.  There  was  absolutely nothing she could do for her, and she wasn't sure how to politely get her out of her of?ce-short of agreeing to  do  something.
"I  can't  promise  anything,  but  I'll  see  what  I  can do.  Don't  expect  anything.  As  I  said,  I'm  not  in  the loop  anymore,"  said  Diane.
The  woman  relaxed  back  in  the  chair.  "That's  all I  ask."
"Why are you so sure he didn't do it?" said Diane.
She leaned forward. "Because he was at home with me.  But  who's  going  to  believe  a  mother?"
"Okay.  Just  remember,  I  can't  promise  anything."
The  woman  nodded,  apparently  satis?ed  that  she got a positive response from someone. Diane saw her out  the  door.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Fallon. I couldn't get her out," said Andie  after  Mrs. Donovan  had  gone.
"She's   a   determined   mother,"   said   Diane.   "I'm going  to  do  some  paperwork."  Hopefully  in  peace.
	Beverly  Connor   Diane  hated  paperwork,  but  after  a  day  like  today, paperwork  sounded  like  fun.  She  went  back  into  her of?ce  and  shut  the  door.
  She  had  made  her  way  through  all  her  budget  re­ ports   when   she   heard   someone   in   Andie's   of?ce. Maybe I should think about soundproo?ng my walls- or  moving  my  of?ce  and  not  telling  anyone.
Andie knocked on the door and opened it. "Detec­ tive  Warrick  would  like  to  see  you."
"Okay,  thanks,  Andie.  Send  her  in."
Janice  Warrick  walked  in  carrying  a  folder.  Her short brown hair was ruf?ed and she smoothed it over.
"Why don't we sit at the table," Diane said, pulling out  a  chair.
Janice sat down and laid the folder on the table. A stack  of  photographs  spilled  out.
"I got the photographs you asked for," she said. "I had  to  take  them  with  my  camera  phone.  It's  a  good one,  but  it's  still  a  camera  phone.  I  printed  them  out for  you."  She  gathered  them  back  into  a  neat  stack.
Diane  was  surprised  a  phone  could  hold  that  many pictures.  She  took  the  ?rst  one  off  the  stack  and looked at it. It was of the kitchen where Jefferies had been  found.
"What is this on the ?oor?" Diane said. "They out­ lined  the  body?"
"Yeah,  I  didn't  think  you  guys  did  that  anymore," said  Janice.
"We don't. It introduces an unnecessary contamina­ tion  to  the  crime  scene."  Diane  frowned.  It  wouldn't do  to  criticize  Bryce's  methods;  it  would  only  make her  look  bad.
Diane went through the pictures. "Where were Gar- nett's  prints  found?"  she  said.
"In  the  hallway-the  foyer,  I  guess  you  call  it-on that  chest  of  drawers  next  to  that  statue-you  know, the  head  of  some  guy."
"Alexander the Great," said Diane absently. "Where else?"
"On  the  kitchen  counter,"  said  Janice.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "Nowhere  else?  Not  on  any  door  facings,  tables, chairs?"
  "No, just those two places. The kitchen print was a full  handprint,  and  the  one  in  the  foyer  was  four  ?n­ gers  on  the  right  hand,"  said  Janice.
"I need to speak with Garnett. Can you get me in?" said  Diane.
"Sure.  That  shouldn't  be  a  problem.  You've  found something?"
Chapter 20
Garnett  sat  across  from  Diane  at  a  table  in  the  small room. He didn't look good. He had dark circles under his  eyes  and  his  face looked  pale  and  haggard.  Diane imagined  a  sharp  dresser  like  him  hated  the  neon prison  jumpsuit.
  The  room  they  were  in  was  speci?cally  for  confer­ ences  like  the  one  she  was  having  with  him.  It  was also  used  for  interrogations  on  occasion.  The  walls were  painted  a  strange  shade  of  pink.  Rumor  had  it that   someone   thought   the   color   sapped   prisoners' strength when they looked at it. Diane wondered why they had orange prison suits, since that color was sup­ posed  to  energize  and  excite.  She  thought  they  must have  just  gotten  the  paint  cheap.  At  least  the  room wasn't  dull  gray.
  "A witness says you were at the mayor's house the night he was murdered. Tell me about it," said Diane. He smiled slightly. "Strange being on the other end.
I never realized you sounded so harsh." He folded his arms  on  the  table  and  sighed.  "I  wasn't  there  long.  I didn't  get  past  the  entryway  at  the  front  door.  The mayor  said  he  didn't  have  anything  else  to  say  and that he was busy. I left. That was it. Apparently some­ one  saw  me  drive  away.  It  was  dark,  but  I  suppose they  recognized  the  car.  No,  wait.  After  I  went  out the gate I pulled over and turned on the light to make a  call.  A  car  went  by.  They  could  have  seen  me.
Doesn't  matter.  As  I  understand  it  I  was  also  on  the security  camera,  and  I  admit  I  was  there."
  "How did your prints get in the house?" asked Diane. Garnett's shoulders went up an inch and fell. "I was also there the evening before. But I wasn't there long then  either."
"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Diane.
"That morning Peeks told me he wanted to replace Neva and Izzy. He said Izzy wasn't pulling his weight.
It  wasn't  true.  I  could  have  told  him  Izzy  was  still grieving  and  to  cut  him  some  slack,  but  I  didn't.  The man had no compassion." He shook his head. "I don't know  what  he  had  against  Neva.  She's  very  compe­ tent."  He  smiled.  "Much  more  than  I  thought  she would ever be. She really blossomed at the crime lab."
"So  you  went  to  talk  to  the  mayor  about  it  that same  night?"  prompted  Diane.
"I  got  there  around  eight  o'clock  that  evening.  It was  dark,  of  course."
"Was  anyone  else  there  besides  the  mayor?"  asked Diane.
"Peeks  was  there;  that's  all.  He  arrived  the  same time  as  I  did."
"What  did  you  touch?"  asked  Diane.
Garnett  wrinkled  his  brow.  "What?"
"The ?ngerprints. What did you touch?" she asked.
Garnett  sat  back  and  thought  a  moment.
"I  knocked  on  the  door.  Didn't  use  the  knocker.
Just  my knuckles  on  the wood.  The  mayor opened  it.
Peeks  came  up  just  as  I  got  inside  and  brushed  past me,  almost  knocking  me  over.  He  likes  doing  that.  I touched  that  table  by  the  wall-chest  or  whatever  it is-to steady myself. Peeks patted me on the back and said  something  like  'Sorry,  fella.'  We  all  went  into the  kitchen,  where  Spence  was  making  nachos  in  the microwave. I told the mayor I didn't think letting Izzy or  Neva  go  was  a  good  idea."
Garnett  shook  his  head,  put  his  hands  ?at  on  the table, and looked at them. His wedding ring was gone, and  his  watch,  taken  and  put  in  a  labeled  envelope until he got out of jail. Diane wondered if sitting in a cell  was  giving  him  a  new  perspective  on  things.
"What  happened?"  asked  Diane.
"He  started off  by telling  me how  Izzy wasn't  pull­ ing  his  weight.  Same  words  Peeks  used.  I  told  him Izzy  worked  the  desk  and  was  good  at  it.  Peeks  said I  had  low  standards,  that  Izzy  was  lazy.  I  told  them Neva was a ?ne of?cer. They said she spent too much time  working  at  the  museum  for  you,  but  they  might hold off on both of them if I would consider searching my  memory  about  the  disposition  of  the  bone  lab.
That I should remember that you turned over the lab to  the  city."
"Surely  they  didn't  think  that  would  work,"  said Diane.
"Apparently  my  testimony  was  part  of  some  plan they  were  concocting.  I  don't  know.  I  told  them  the whole thing was ridiculous; they didn't have a hope in hell of getting your lab. Evidently they thought it was theirs  to  begin  with.  I  never  briefed  them  on  who owned  the  bone  lab.  They  knew  you  had  just  put  in the DNA lab, and I think they wanted to put one of their own  people  in  it  to  eventually  replace  Jin.  But  they thought the bone lab was part of the crime lab. It was a blow to ?nd out it wasn't, and they just didn't want to  let  go.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  what they  had  in  mind  to  do  about  it.  Except  maybe  force you to change your mind by threatening to arrest you for  Delamore's  murder."
"What  else  did  you  touch?"  asked  Diane.
Garnett  thought  a  moment.
"I  remember  leaning  on  the  kitchen  counter,  you know,  that  island  in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen.  I  put my  hand  on  it  and  leaned  over  to  talk  to  the  mayor.
I  told  him what  they  were  doing  was  unfair and  if  he hoped  to  get  elected  again,  he  should  tone  it  down.
He  got  really  pissed.  Then  suddenly  he  calmed  down and  asked  me  about  you."
"About  me?"  said  Diane.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "He wanted to know how to unseat you as director of  the  museum."
"That  is  so  strange,"  said  Diane.
"Isn't it? I told him better men have tried and failed.
He  really  didn't  know  much  about  the  museum.  He mentioned something about going to the board of direc­ tors. I didn't say anything. I thought I'd just let him see how that worked out  for him." Garnett  laughed.
Diane  couldn't  imagine  what  the  mayor  was  think­ ing. Of course, the mayor who preceded Jefferies had tried to do the same thing, but for different reasons. He had  wanted  the  land  the  museum  was  on-or  thought he  did.
"So there are just two things you remember touching- the  kitchen  counter  and  the  hall  chest,"  said  Diane.
"That's it, I'm pretty sure. I left soon after. It wasn't like  he  was  going  to  invite  me  to  share  his  nachos."
He  looked  at  her  quizzically  for  a  moment.  "I  know that  look  on  your  face.  What  are  you  thinking?"
"It  appears  that  the  hall  chest  and  kitchen  counter were  the  only   two  places  they  dusted   for  prints," said  Diane.
It  took  a  moment  for  a  look  of  surprise  to  cross Garnett's  face.
"They were only looking for my prints-Peeks must have told them where to look," he said. "Who worked the  crime  scene?  Not  Neva?"  His  eyes  clouded  over.
"No,  it  was  Rikki  and  Bryce,"  said  Diane.  "And probably  Curtis  Crabtree."
Diane  stood  up.  "Don't  worry.  I  think  we'll  get  to the  bottom  of  this  soon."  Now  that  all  your  enemies are  dead.  The  thought  came  unbidden  into  her  head.
She shook it off. "I need to speak to Colin. You don't happen to know what other evidence they have against you?"  asked  Diane.
"No,  I  don't. . . .  Not  really,"  he  added.
Diane  sat  down  again.  "Tell  me  what  you  know," she  said.
"The gun used in the killings was one that was used several years ago in a robbery. It should have been in 	Beverly  Connor the  evidence  room.  Not  many  people  have  access  to that  room.  Only  the  police."
  She  didn't  like  where  this  was  going.  It  wasn't  a good  thing  when  all  the  suspects  were  policemen.
"Did  they  ?nd  the  gun  itself?"  she  asked.
"No,"  said  Garnett.
"Was  it  the  same  gun  that  killed  Edgar  Peeks?"  she asked.
"I  don't  know."
"Anything  else  you  need  to  tell  me?"  she  asked.
"I  can't  think  of  anything ...  except  that  I  usually need  more  evidence  than  what  they  have  on  me  to lock  someone  up.  You  think  Prehoda  can  get  me  out of  here?"
"I  don't  know.  If  he  can  overcome  the  drama  of you being found standing over Peeks' body," she said.
"I don't know how many times I've heard perps say they've  been  set  up.  I've  never  believed  them;  not once,"  Garnett  said.
"It  does  happen,"  said  Diane.
She  knocked  on  the  door  and  the  guard  came  to take  Garnett  back  to  his  cell.
Diane  walked  up  to  the  squad  room  to  speak  with Janice. She needed to get Janice to take point on Gar- nett's case. They somehow had to give Curtis Crabtree something  else  to  do,  and  she  wasn't  sure  how  to  ac­ complish  that.
Chapter 21
When  Diane  got  to  the  squad  room,  Buford  Monroe, the  chief  of  police  under  the  previous  administration, was standing with Edward Van Ross, who was the presi­ dent  of  the  city  council  of  Rosewood-and  Vanessa's son. That's why the city council hadn't done anything yet, thought Diane. Edward was out of town and they were  waiting  for  his  return.
  Behind  Van  Ross  stood  the  former  police  commis­ sioner,  who  had  also  lost  his  job  with  the  change  in administrations. Jefferies said it was redundant to have a  police chief  and  a  police commissioner  in  a city  the size of Rosewood and getting rid of the commissioner would save a huge salary. Diane had agreed with him about  that.  She  still  did.  The  commissioner  had  run for city council and won a seat. Standing there in front of  the  squad  room  with  Edward  Van  Ross,  he  and Monroe  both  looked  vindicated-like  they  wanted  to say,  I  told  you  so.
  "The  council  met  today,"  Edward  Van  Ross  was saying when Diane arrived, "and appointed me acting mayor until  we have  a special election.  As one  of my ?rst  acts  I  have  reinstated  Buford  Monroe  as  chief of  police."
  Diane  looked  around  the  room  at  the  faces.  Most were   smiling,   but   there   were   a   few   who   looked sullen-hired  by  Peeks,  no  doubt,  they  had  pooled their  fortunes  with  his;  and  now  it  looked  like  they had  picked  the  wrong  side.  She  wondered  if  Harve Delamore   had   been   a   Jefferies   supporter.   As   she looked over the gathering, she noticed that Pendleton was  smiling.  Interesting.  Maybe  he  would  be  willing to  talk  with  her  about  how  Bryce  and  company  han­ dled  the  crime  scenes.
  "I'm sure all of you will welcome Chief Monroe back and do all you can to help during this crisis," continued Van  Ross.
  Diane  hoped  he  wouldn't  talk  long.  She  wanted  to have a word with Monroe. She spotted Colin Prehoda standing  with  his  back  to  the  wall.  He  nodded  when she  made  eye  contact  and  pointed  to  a  bulky  enve­ lope  he  had  in  his  hand.  She  worked  her  way  over to  him.
  "I  ?nally  got  the  security  tape,"  he  whispered  to her.  "It  was  found  in  Peeks'  apartment,  of  all  places. Janice  discovered  it,  thankfully."
"Have  you  looked  at  it  yet?"  Diane  whispered.
"No,  I  thought  we'd  go  to  your  of?ce  or  mine  and have  a  look,"  he  said.
"I came with Janice and I need a ride back, so let's go  to  mine,"  she  said.
Van  Ross  was  ending  his  speech.  He  made  merci­ fully  short  ones.  He  joked  that  that  was  why  he  was elected  president  of  the  city  council.  Diane,  followed by  Colin,  walked  up  to  the  front.  Edward  Van  Ross gave  her  a  hug  and  mentioned  how  much  his  mother was  looking  forward  to  the  Neanderthal  bones.  He also  offered  his  sympathies  for  her  injuries.
She  shook  Buford  Monroe's  hand  and  said  softly that  she  was  glad  to  have  him  back  and  that  she needed  to  speak  with  him.  Having  just  been  hugged by  Edward  Van  Ross  gave  her  some  political  credits, she  imagined.  They  stepped  away  from  the  crowd.
"I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  replace  Curtis Crabtree  as  the  primary  on  the  murders.  Janice  War- rick  would  be  a  good  replacement,"  she  said,  coming right out with what she wanted, hoping frankness was the  best  way.
"Why?"  he  asked.
  "Crabtree  isn't objective,  and he  seems divided  be­ tween  the  crime  lab  and  being  a  detective.  I  think Janice  would  be  better.
  "I  can't  be  seen  to  favor  Garnett.  Even  though  I believe  he  is  innocent,"  he  added.  "I  don't  want  to load the deck in his favor by eliminating any detective who  isn't  on  his  side."
  Diane  let  the  bad  metaphor  go,  even  though  she hated  bad  metaphors.  "I  understand,  and  you  are  cor­ rect   in   that   position.   Janice   was   reprimanded   by Garnett-actually    demoted    by    him-but    she    has worked her  way back up  to detective and  clearly sees this objectively, the way a good detective should. Put­ ting her in charge wouldn't be seen as making a judg­ ment  in  his  favor;  it  would  be  seen  as  making  sure everything is evenhanded and not based on grudges." It wasn't a good argument. But she didn't think it had to  be.  Buford  Monroe  didn't  like  any  of  Peeks'  cro­ nies,  and  he  knew  that  Curtis  was  one  of  them. Monroe  was  nodding  the  whole  time.  That  was  a good  sign.
"There's  merit  to  what  you've  said,"  he  mused.
"I want all this put behind us and not have it re?ect on  those  who  were  part  of  the  past  administration.  I want  it  done  well."
Monroe seemed to be considering, but Diane knew he  had  already  made  up  his  mind.  He  was  a  political animal,  and  the  idea  of  clearing  the  names  of  those under the last mayor-namely, him-appealed to him.
Diane  waited  patiently.
"Okay,  I  see  your  point  and  I  agree.  I'll  make  the change  right  away."  He  looked  around  at  the  people still  in  the  squad  room.  "I'm  afraid  there  is  a  lot  of housecleaning  I'm  going  to  be  doing  before  this  is over."  He  looked  like  he  relished  the  idea.
"I  don't  envy  your  task,"  said  Diane,  still  sucking up  to  him.
He  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  either."
"Thanks  for  speaking  with  me,"  she  said.
He  nodded.  "Glad  to  be  working  with  you  again," he  said.
Colin  was  talking  with  Edward  Van  Ross,  so  she sought  out  Pendleton.  He  was  still  hostile,  but  he agreed to speak with her when she said she was work­ ing  to  clear  Garnett.
"Can you tell me anything that you thought was out of  the  ordinary  going  on  at  either  crime  scene?"  she asked. "You've been to crime scenes before and know how  they  are  done."
He shrugged. "They are all different. I wasn't at the Jefferies  crime  scene,  but  at  Peeks'.  Bryce  and  that Rikki  chick  were  looking  for  something.  Some  kind of  list,  I  heard  them  mention."
"Do  you  know  what  kind  of  list?  Names?  Num­ bers?"  asked  Diane.
"No.  They  didn't  say,"  he  said.
"Anything  else?"  she  asked.  "Did  they  check  for ?ngerprints?"
He had been slouching but stood up straight. "Now that  you  mention  it,  they  didn't  dust  for  prints  at  all.
Now,  that's  strange.  Another  thing.  That  Rikki  chick pocketed  something  she  found  on  the  ?oor  near  the body.  I  thought  it  was  a  silver  pen,  but  I  don't  really know  what  it  was.  Something  shiny.  I  thought  it  was something  she  dropped  maybe.  That's  all  I  know."
"Thank  you  for  talking  to  me,"  said  Diane.
"The  GBI  said  that  Harve  wasn't  pushed.  Some­ thing  about  the  math  and  something  about  his  foot injuries  being  consistent  with  your  description.  But  I don't know why he would have gone after you. I know he  didn't  like  you,  but ...  this  is  just  strange."  He shrugged  and  left  before  Diane  could  comment.
When  she  and  Colin  left,  Diane  was  glad  to  get out  of  the  police  station.  She  never  found  it  to  be  a comfortable  place  even  before  the  Jefferies  adminis­ tration.  On  the  way  to  the  museum  she  told  Colin that  Monroe  would  be  putting  Janice  Warrick  in  as lead  detective.
  "How  did  you  pull  that  off?"  said  Colin,  looking over  at  her,  then  back  at  the  road.
  "By  trying  to  be  both  logical  and  political.  Not easy,"  she  said.
  "That will make our job easier. Maybe the worm is ?nally  turning,"  he  said.
  "I   had   Janice   take   pictures   inside   the   mayor's house,"  said  Diane.  "I  noticed  when  we  were  there earlier  that  there  was  ?ngerprint  powder  only  on  one corner  of  the  hall  chest-no  place  else.  When  I  saw the  pictures  of  the  kitchen,  I  saw  the  same  thing. There  was  ?ngerprint  dust  only  where  Garnett  had touched the countertop." Diane related her discussion with  Garnett  to  Colin.
  "So,  Bryce  or  what's  her  name-Rikki-didn't  try to  ?nd  any  other  prints,  just  Garnett's."  Colin  whis­ tled.  "Wow."
"I  assume  they  acted  on  orders  from  Peeks,  but  I don't  know,"  said  Diane.
"That's  both  good  and  bad.  Good  in  that  it  looks like they were trying to frame Garnett. But the prose­ cutor  could  see  it  as  a  motivation  for  Garnett  to  kill Peeks."
"Janice  will  interview  Bryce,"  said  Diane.  "I'll  be interested  to  see  his  explanation.  Her  pictures  also showed   that   the   house   appeared   to   have   been searched  after  the  mayor's  body  was  discovered  and the  police  had  turned  the  crime  scene  over  to  Bryce.
Janice  said  the  original  crime  scene  photos  taken  by the  police  didn't  show  the  disarray  that  her  photo­ graphs did. I can't be sure, but it looks like Bryce may have  been  looking  for  something-or  he  has  a  very messy style of working  a crime scene. Of?cer Pendle­ ton  said  that  Bryce  and  Rikki  were  looking  for  some kind of list and that Rikki may have taken something from  the  crime  scene."
"What  do  you  think  it  could  be?"  asked  Colin.  He pulled  into  the  museum  parking  lot  and  into  Ken- del's  space.
"I  have  no  idea.  Janice  also  said  the  mayor's  com­ puter was heavily encrypted and no one has been able to  see  what  is  on  his  hard  drive,"  said  Diane.
"That's interesting. I think. But even I have a pass­ word  on  my  computer,"  said  Colin.
"I  got  the  idea  that  this  is  a  little  more  heavy-duty encryption.  I'll  ask  Frank  about  it,"  said  Diane.
"Frank  Duncan?"  said  Colin.  "He's  Atlanta,  isn't he?"
"Yes. The  Metro-Atlanta Fraud and  Computer Fo­ rensics  Unit,"  she  said.
"We've  met.  Not  a  guy  a  defense  attorney  likes  to have on the stand," said Colin. "Nice guy, I've heard."
"I've  heard  that  before,"  said  Diane.  "Yes,  he  is  a very  nice  guy."
"You  dating  him?"  asked  Colin.
"Yes. I'm staying at his home while I'm house hunt­ ing.  My  neighbors  kicked  me  out  of  my  apartment."
"What? Neighbors can't do that. Why?" said Colin.
Diane explained about the various times she had to have  the  police come  to  her  apartment when  someone went   after   her-the   attacks,   the   blood.   "They   got scared."
"You  want  to  ?ght  it?"  he  said.
"No.  My  neighbors  across  the  hall  attend  funerals for fun and once broke into my apartment looking for a cat they thought I was keeping against building pol­ icy. I had a downstairs neighbor whose ancestors were members  of  the  Donner  party.  I  was  sort  of  ready to  move."
Colin  laughed  out  loud.
  They  put  the  security  tape  from  the  mayor's  house into   Diane's   machine.   The   images   were   dark   and fuzzy.  She  thought  the  mayor  would  have  had  better equipment.  The  video  surveillance  cameras  were  mo­ tion activated. Something had caused the tape to start recording.  They  watched  for  more  than  a  minute  be­ fore  they  saw  anything.  It  was  a  deer  going  into  the woods.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  The next sequence showed Garnett's car pull up and park.  He  got  out  and  walked  up  to  the  door  and  was let  in.  They  watched  the  view  of  the  car  for  another few  minutes.  Finally  Garnett  came  out.  He  wasn't  in the  house  long,  but  it  would  have  been  long  enough to  shoot  the  mayor.  Garnett  got  in  his  car  and  drove off. After another several minutes of nothing happen­ ing,  the  tape  ended.
  "That  wasn't  helpful,"  Colin  said.  "Why  do  you think  they  didn't  want  us  to  see  it?"
  "I  have  no  idea.  Maybe  because  Garnett  wasn't  in the  house  long.  Let's  watch  it  again,"  she  said.
  Diane  rewound  the  tape  and  they  started  it  again. Colin got  closer to the  monitor. The second  time was equally  unhelpful.
  "I think you're right," said Colin. "It was the timing they  were  worried  about."
As he spoke, Diane rewound the tape and watched it   again.   This   time   she   put   the   machine   on   slow motion.
"This  has  to  be  one  of  the  more  boring  jobs,"  said Colin.
There it was, three minutes after Garnett left. Right where  the  deer  had  gone  into  the  woods  earlier-a ?gure.  It  had  been  just  a  blink  at  regular  playback speed.  The  ?gure  came  from  behind  a  large  tree  at the edge of the woods. Was he, or she, there the whole time?  The  ?gure  moved  quickly  into  the  cover  of the  trees.
"I'll  be  damned,"  said  Colin.  "That's  what  they didn't  want  us  to  see.  Someone  else  was  there  that night."
Diane's VCR fed the image through a computer. She used  it  for  the  very  thing  they  were  employing  it  for now,   watching   and   analyzing   museum   surveillance tapes. She rewound the tape and started the playback again.  She  stopped  the  motion  on  the  ?gure.
"You  can't  make  anything  out,"  Colin  said.  "Can this  be  enhanced?"
	Beverly  Connor   "Probably  some,"  said  Diane  staring  at  the  image. The  running  ?gure  wore  a  hoodie  with  his  or  her hands  in  its  pockets.
"We need a way to ?nd out who this is," said Colin. Diane  sat  staring  at  the  picture,  feeling  sick.  She knew  who  it  was.
Chapter 22
Diane  sat  in  the  living  room  of  Frank's  house  in  the dark, watching the ?re she'd built and wishing he was home. But how could she talk to him about this? There was  no  one  she  could  talk  to.  She  thought  brie?y  of Mike,  her  caving  partner.  He  was  the  only  one  who wouldn't  be  duty  bound  to  report  what  she  told  him, but  she  didn't  want  to  drag  him  into  this  either.  She knew  what Frank  would  say.  Knowing the  right  thing to  do  is  not  hard.  Dealing  with  the  consequences  of doing the right thing is the hard part. So is living with the consequences  of not doing  the right  thing. Damn. She  picked  up  her  phone  again  and  called.  No  an­ swer. She left another message. She wanted to scream the  message,  but  she  calmly  told  the  voice  mail  that it was urgent and to call back, please. She got up and went to the piano, opening up the ?nger exercise book that Frank had said she should try. It was both hands and  all  sixteen  notes.  It  was  what  she  needed,  some­ thing  that  looked  impossible.  She  gave  it  a  try.
She  was  still  working  on  the  exercise  when  Frank came  home.  She  didn't  hear  him  until  he  spoke.
"I'm glad you've really gotten into those exercises," he  said.
Diane  jumped.
"Sorry,  I  didn't  mean  to  startle  you."  He  sat  down beside  her.  "Your  ?ngers  aching  yet?"
"Not  yet.  Well,  maybe  a  little,"  she  admitted.
"Are  you  all  right?"  he  asked.
"No,"  she  said  simply.
"You  want  to  tell  me  about  it?"  he  said.
Diane turned to him. "I'd like to. But you're sworn to  uphold  the  law."  She  smiled  in  spite  of  herself.
Frank laughed. "Sounds like you've had another in­ teresting day. There is some discretionary room in my code  of  conduct.  Want  to  give  me  a  try?"  He  stood, pulling  her  up with  him  and  kissing her  forehead.  He led  her  into  the  living  room.
The  ?re  had  died  to  glowing  embers,  illuminating very little. Frank turned on the light and Diane shaded her  eyes,  feeling  like  a  vampire.  She  realized  she  had been playing the piano in the dim light of dusk. Frank stoked  the  ?re  until  it  blazed  again.  The  warmth  felt good.
"What's  this  about?"  he  asked.
"First,  how  was  your  day?"  asked  Diane.  "We  al­ ways  talk  about  my  day,  which  inevitably  ends  up dominating  the  conversation."
"That's  because  your  life  is  more  interesting  than mine," said Frank, grinning. "This is starting to sound like it's going to be a really interesting story this time."
He paused and Diane said nothing. "Okay. My day was a  bit  frustrating.  We've  had  a  big  upsurge  in  identity thefts all over Atlanta-individuals and businesses-and I'm  ?nding  them  hard  to  track  down.  I  suspect  we have   an   organized   theft   ring   in   operation.   What's mainly happening is the perpetrator is taking out loans in  victims'  names,  then  disappearing  with  the  money.
The  trail  is  almost  entirely  electronic.  Many  of  the victims   are   large   businesses   in   Atlanta.   Now,   see, mine's rather boring. Tell me about your day-after I get  us  some  coffee."
They  ended  up  ordering  a  pizza-large,  thin  crust with  mushrooms,  pepperoni,  and  sausage.  They  ate  it and  talked  about  music.
"You're right," Diane said. "The seventh chords are easier  even  after  only  a  couple  of  times  of  doing  the exercise.  I'll  be  able  to  hang  on  to  a  rock  face  with my  pinkies  after  this.  Who  knew?"
"All  pianists,"  he  said,  taking  his  last  bite  of  pizza.
"Now,  tell  me  about  your  day."
They  took  their  coffee  into  the  living  room  and Diane described it, beginning with ?nding the body of Edgar Peeks and ending with looking at the videotape.
She didn't say anything about the ?gure she and Colin saw  in  the  tape.
"I heard about Chief Peeks," said Frank. "Ben says I  should  move  to  Atlanta,  where  there's  less  crime."
"I tell you, this has rattled the community. The city council  has  ?nally  done  something  now  that  Edward Van  Ross  is  back  in  town."
"They  hardly  do  anything  without  his  approval," said  Frank.  Diane  knew  he  liked  Van  Ross,  but  she also knew he disapproved of his power. "Now, what's your  dilemma?"  said  Frank.
"I  recognize  the  ?gure  on  the  tape,"  she  said.
She  picked  up  the  ?le  from  the  coffee  table  and took  out  a  still  photo  she  had  made  of  the  ?gure caught  by  the  late  mayor's  security  camera.
"You recognize this? How? It's so fuzzy it could be a  bear  for  all  I  can  tell."
"It's  the  tilt  of  the  shoulders,  the  gait,  the  angle  of the  head.  You  can  recognize  people  just  looking  at the  body-if  you  know  them,"  she  said.
"Yes. I've done that. And I've been wrong. Can be quite embarrassing. Who do you think it is?" he said.
Diane  started  to  say,  but  was  saved  by  the  sound of  the  door  chimes.  Frank  went  to  answer  it,  and Diane  sipped  her  coffee  by  the  ?re,  wrapping  her hands  around  the  cup  to  warm  her  cold  ?ngers.
"Look  who's  here,"  said  Frank  as  he  entered  the room  with  David.
"I  got  your  messages,"  said  David.
Diane  stared  at  him  for  a  moment.  "I  thought  you were  going  on  vacation,"  she  said.
"It's  a  working  vacation,"  he  said.  He  sat  down  on the  couch  opposite  Diane  and  Frank.
"David,"  began  Diane.  She  hesitated.  "I've  been really  worried."
"Don't  be.  I  haven't  gone  off  the  deep  end,"  said David.
Frank sat back and looked at Diane a moment. He had guessed who she suspected was in the photograph, she   realized-probably   even   before   David   came.
There weren't many people besides Frank himself that Diane  would  worry  about  so  much.
"I  hope  not,"  said  Diane.  She  noticed  that  David had  come  in  carrying  a  briefcase.
"As  I  said,  I  haven't  gone  off  the  deep  end,  but  I have  been  delving  into  conspiracy  theories,"  he  said.
"Okay, I can see we're going to need more coffee," said  Frank.  "Please  wait;  I  don't  want  to  miss  any­ thing."
"David," said Diane when Frank walked out of the room. "Were you at the mayor's house the night he was killed?" She showed him the picture from the surveil­ lance  tape.  "I'm  probably  one  of  the  few  people  who would  recognize  you."
David stared at Diane for a long time. He frowned.
"I've  been  in  a  quandary  about  this,"  he  said.  "You don't  think  I  killed  him,  do  you?"
"Of course not, but Garnett's in jail, and everything seems  to  be  going  to  hell.  I  just  need  to  know  what's going  on  in  my  corner  of  the  world.  What  were  you doing  there?"
"I  was  casing  the  place.  I  wanted  to  ?nd  out  when I  could  break  in  and  plant  a  bug."
"What?  David?  What?  Have  you  gone  completely nuts?"  Diane  hardly  knew  what  to  say.
David  smoothed  out  the  back  fringe  of  his  hair.  "I know it kind of looks that way. But I had my reasons."
Frank  came  in  with  three  mugs  of  coffee.  "I  think I  remembered  how  you  like  your  coffee,  David,"  he said. "One sugar and one tablespoon of cocoa powder."
"That's  it,"  he  said.  He  took  the  mug.  "This  feels good.  It's  chilly  outside.  Gets  into  your  bones."
Frank  took  Diane's  old  coffee  and  put  it  on  the mantel  and gave  her a  fresh cup.  He sat  down beside her  with  his  own  mug  of  coffee  and  took  a  drink.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"I  hope  I  didn't  miss  anything,"  he  said.
"Not  much,"  Diane  muttered.
"Okay,  David,  what's  your  conspiracy  theory?"  said Frank.
"I  started  noticing  strange  things  in  the  lab,"  David said.
Frank   laughed.   "This   is   sounding   like   a   horror movie,"  he  said.
David  smiled.  "It  is.  There  was  something  hinky about  the  crime  scenes  Bryce  sent  me  and  Neva  to.
There  were  some  he  did  not  want  us  to  go  on."
"Who  did  he  send?"  asked  Diane.
"He  would  go,  or  he  would  assign  Rikki  after  she came,"   he   said.   "Or   no   one   went.   He   called   it prioritizing."
"Did  you  ask  him  about  any  of  it?"  asked  Diane.
"Sure. Many times. He told me he was in charge of the  crime  lab  now  and  how  he  made  decisions  was none  of  my  business.  Soon  after,  he  assigned  me  to the  lab  full-time  and  stopped  me  from  working  crime scenes. When the judge was murdered, Bryce assigned Neva  to  work  a  convenience  store  burglary,  and  he and  Rikki  did  the  judge's  crime  scene."
"You  don't  think  he  just  wanted  to  do  the  high- pro?le  crimes  himself?"  asked  Frank.
"No,"  said  David.  "I  think  he  had  an  agenda  and I  think  it  involved  the  mayor.  And  I  don't  think  it was  legal."
Both  Frank  and  Diane  stared  at  him  in  silence.
Diane was beginning to wonder if he hadn't gone over the  edge.  But  this  was  David.  She  knew  him.  She trusted  him.
"You're going to have to give us some more expla­ nation,"  she  said.
David opened his briefcase. The snap of the latches sounded loud in the quiet room. He took out a folder, placed  it  on  the  coffee  table,  and  opened  it.  Diane saw  a  chart  of  numbers  with  notes  scribbled  at  the bottom.  Frank  reached  for  it,  examining  the  page.
"You  remember  the  rash  of  burglaries  we  had  last 	Beverly  Connor year?  Remember  how  Jefferies  made  a  big  deal  over the  charge  that  the  old  mayor  and  his  administration couldn't  do  anything  about  crime,  especially  crimes against  the  average  homeowner?  He  hammered  over and   over   on   the   point   that   the   old   police   chief wouldn't  even  deal  with  home  burglaries.  How  the police  told  victims  they  probably  wouldn't  be  able  to get  their  property  back."
  "Yes,"   said   Diane.   "I   remember.   Unfortunately, that's  what  the  police  usually  did  say  when  a  house was  burgled."
"And remember how the burglaries went down after Jefferies had  been  mayor for  a while?" said David.
"Yes,"  said  Diane.
Frank  studied  David's  notes.  "Where  did  you  get these  ?gures?"  he  asked,  not  looking  up.
"The police department, court records." David ges­ tured toward the paper Frank was holding. "I checked into the numbers. Total burglaries went down, but the arrest  rate  for  burglaries  stayed  the  same  as  it  was under  the  old  mayor.  So  did  the  conviction  rate," said  David.
"What  are  you  saying?"  said  Diane.
"He's saying the whole thing was staged to win the election," said Frank. "That the mayor or his support­ ers had to be behind the surge in burglaries. Okay, you have  my  attention.  What  else  do  you have,  David?"
Chapter 23
"Is  that  what  you  are  saying?"  said  Diane.  "Jefferies was  behind  the  rash  of  burglaries?"
  She  sat  openmouthed,  staring  at  David.  With  what she  was  ?nding  out  about  Jefferies  from  Garnett  and others,  she  didn't  know  why  she  should  be  so  sur­ prised.  But  she  was.  What  David  was  suggesting  was beyond  political  control  of  jobs  or  lying  to  try  and claim  her  lab.  If  it  was  true,  this  was  serious  criminal activity  he  was  engaged  in  to  get  elected.
"Yes,  I  think  he  was  behind  the  burglaries,"  said David.
She  took  the  sheet  from  Frank  and  looked  at  the numbers.  "So,  he  got  someone  to  burgle  the  homes, then had them stop a month after he came into of?ce?
That  seems  incredible."
"It  does,"  said  David,  "but  how  else  do  you  read the numbers? How would  the burglaries decrease but the  arrest  rate  stay  the  same?  Maybe  it  could  have been  a  burglary  ring  that  just  happened  to  move  on a  month  after  the  election.  Nice  and  convenient  for Jefferies.  I  prefer  my  conspiracy  theory."
"What  about  the  crime  scenes?"  began  Diane.  She paused  a  moment.  "Were  those  the  ones  you  and Neva  were  excluded  from?"
"You got it," said David. "The newspapers reported that  the  stolen  items  were  recovered  in  several  in­ stances.  Good  stories.  Jefferies  wanted  to  make  sure the  voters  knew  they  did  the  right  thing  by  electing him.  But  why  weren't  the  perps  arrested?"
  "You have more?" asked Frank. "This investigation you've  embarked  upon-is  that  why  you  resigned?"
  "Yes.   I   didn't   tell   Neva   about   my   suspicions.   I wanted  to  collect  more  data  and  I  didn't  want  to  in­ volve  anyone  else,  just  in  case  it  turned  out  I  was completely  bonkers  after  all.  That's  why  I  didn't  say anything  to  you,"  he  said  to  Diane.
"What  else  do  you  have?"  Frank  asked.
"This next stuff is what I ?nd really disturbing," he said,  pulling  some  photographs  from  his  ?le.
Diane   saw   photographs   of   ?ngerprints,   of   crime scenes,  trace  evidence,  more  notes.  David  had  been busy.
"Bryce  should  have  just  ?red  me,"  said  David.  "I don't  know  why  the  stupid  son  of  a  bitch  thought restricting me to the lab would keep all his dirty little secrets hidden from me. The lab is where most of the work  is  done."
David  picked  up  a  photograph  of  several  ?nger­ prints.  "These  are  from  the  investigation  of  the  mur­ der   of   Judge   Karen   McNevin.   Bryce   worked   this scene.  Rikki  hadn't  been  hired  then.  He  brought  all the  evidence back  for me  to process.  The ?rst  thing I noticed  on  the lifting  tape-besides  the  ?ngerprints- was  a  lot  of  trace."
He  pulled  out  another photograph  taken  through  a microscope.  It  showed  small  particles  with  a  cubic crystal habit. Diane recognized sodium chloride. There were  other  particles  she  didn't  recognize.
"Salt,"  said  Diane.
"This  salt  was  on  all  the  trace  lifts-some  on  the ?ngerprint  lifts,  and  in  fact,  on  all  the  trace  from  the crime  scene,"  said  David.
He picked up another photograph. This one showed a close-up of some trace ?bers supposedly lifted from the  crime  scene.  There  was  something  else  stuck  to the cellophane, some kind of red-brown ?akes. Diane didn't  recognize  them.
  "The ?akes are peanut skins; the other tan particles are  pieces  of  peanuts,"  said  David.  "They  are  also pervasive  in  the  trace  from  the  judge's  crime  scene, including  the  dog  hair  that  was  lifted  from  her  body. It  was  consistent  with  the  accused's  dog.  Bryce  lifted the  hair  with  the  ?ngerprint  tape,  and  it  has  the  salt and  peanut  parts  all  over  it."
David  stopped  and  looked  up  from  the  pictures.
"Let  me  tell  you  something  about  the  murder,"  he said.
He  took  out  the  crime  scene  photographs  and  laid them  on  the  table.  Frank's  coffee  table  was  now  cov­ ered  in  photographic  evidence.
"Judge McNevin was shot at home," said David. "It was  on  a  Saturday.  Saturdays  her  husband  took  their two  kids  to  a  movie,  or  someplace  equally  entertain­ ing. Saturday was Karen's day to stay home and catch up  on  her  law  journals.  People  who  knew  her  knew she  would be  alone in  the  house on  a Saturday  after­ noon.  Her  husband  said  she  liked  to  soak  in  the  tub while  she  read.  She  had  a  tub  tray  she  used  to  keep her  journals  on  and  a  glass  of  wine.  She'd  gotten  out of  the  tub,  put  on  a  robe,  and  was  in  the  bedroom when  she  was  confronted  by  her  killer  and  strangled to  death."
Diane and Frank listened as David spoke, not inter­ rupting.  Diane  wasn't  sure  where  this  was  going,  but she was developing a hard knot in the pit of her stom­ ach.  Frank's  living  room  was  lit  only  by  task  lighting, and  in  the  growing  darkness  the  recesses  were  fading into  shadows.  Diane  got  up  abruptly  and  turned  on the  overhead  chandelier,  and  suddenly  everything  in the  room  was  made  visible  again.
"I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  looking  at  Frank  and  David staring  at  her.  "I  just  needed  light."
David hadn't taken a drink of his coffee for a while, and it was probably growing cold. One reason he said he liked putting chocolate in it was that it tasted better when  it  got  cold.  Diane  thought  she  should  warm  it for him. But then she wondered if she was just trying to delay hearing what he had to say, delay the dreaded thing  to  come,  whatever  it  was.  She  mentally  shook herself. This is just stupid, she thought. It's the time of year.  It  always  does  this  to  me,  keeps  me  off  balance. As  it  does  David.
"Go  on,"  she  said.
David  pulled  out  the  autopsy  photos.
"Where   did   you   get   the   autopsy   photographs?" asked Diane. "I had to camp out in Shane's lab practi­ cally  to  get  him  to  give  me  anything."
"I  hacked  into  his  computer,"  said  David.
Diane  and  Frank  both  raised  their  eyebrows.
David raised his palms and shrugged. "What do you do  when  it's  the  people  in  authority  you  suspect  of being  criminals?  I  collected  most  of  this  stuff  before I  resigned,  so  technically  I  was  authorized  to  see  it."
"Go  on,"  said  Frank.  From  the  deep  crease  in  his forehead  and  the  frown  on  his  face,  Diane  could  see he  was  worried  too.  She  wasn't  sure  whether  he  was concerned   about   David   or   about   what   David   was saying.
"Lloyd Bryce worked the crime scene. He wouldn't allow either me or Neva to come with him. Got rather sharp  about  it,  as  I  recall.  He  came  back  with  the evidence  for  me  to  process.  I  found  all  this  trace.
"Now,  I  happened  to  know  Judge  Karen  McNevin and her husband. They were friends. Karen was deathly allergic to peanuts. She had a very fast reaction when she  came  in  contact  with  them  and  always  carried  an EpiPen. She couldn't even touch them. At parties she stood far away from anyplace where there were mixed nuts.  She  wouldn't  have  any  in  her  home.
"On the other hand," continued David, "Evan Don­ ovan,  the  man  accused  of  strangling  her  to  death,  is an avid peanut eater. I spoke with his friends. He even does  that  thing  where  he  puts  them  in  his  Coke.  His house is littered with salted peanut parts. I know, be­ cause I broke in and looked. The trace evidence came from  his  house  and  not  the  crime  scene."
David  sat  back  and  waited.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"Couldn't  it  be  transfer?"  said  Frank.
  "On   the   lifts,  the   salt   residue   covers  the   entire square  from  corner  to  corner.  If  it  was  transfer,  it wouldn't  have  covered  the  tape  that  thoroughly  and evenly.  Bryce  lifted  the  ?ngerprint  and  trace  from Donovan's house and was rather sloppy about it. Also look  at  the  autopsy  report.  There  is  no  evidence  in the pictures or mention by the ME of an allergic reac­ tion.  She  would  have  had  a  serious  skin  reaction  if Donovan  had  touched  her  throat  with  peanut  residue all over his hands." David let out a breath. "This evi­ dence  is  why  I  quit."
  "You're  saying  Donovan  was  framed,"  said  Frank. He  said  it  more  like  a  statement  than  a  question.
  "Evan Donovan was made to be a fall guy. He was raised  in  an  abusive  home.  Both  he  and  his  brother Bobby  have  low-normal  IQs.  Evan  has  a  temper.  He threatened  Judge  McNevin  when  his  brother  Bobby was  sentenced."
"Why  was  she  killed?"  asked  Frank.
"If  you  wanted  to  take  over  a  town,  what  would you  do?"  said  David.  He  didn't  wait  for  an  answer.
"Get  elected  as  mayor,  start  appointing  friends  to powerful  positions,  get  yourself  a  crime  lab,  a  bone lab,  a  DNA  lab,  and  get  your  own  judge  appointed.
But there was a little hitch. There was no vacancy on the  bench.  So  one  of  the  current  judges  had  to  go."
"This  is  some  conspiracy  theory.  If  the  mayor  had been  successful  in  all  this,  what  was  the  point?  What was  he  going  to  do  with  it?"  said  Frank.
"I  don't  know,"  said  David.  "But  if  he  was  into criminal activities, like drugs, for instance, it's good to have the crime lab on your side. If you want to control who goes to jail and who goes free, it would be a nice thing  to  have  a  DNA  lab.  And  what  a  good  place  to have  all  three  of  those-a  small  town  where  all  three labs are housed in a museum. These kinds of labs are usually  in  big  cities,  which  are  harder  to  get  control of.  Rosewood  probably  looked  like  easy  pickings,  es­ pecially  since  Jefferies  once  had  family  here."  David 	Beverly  Connor stopped  and  steepled  his  hands.  "If  we  want  to  ?nd out  who  killed  the  mayor  and  the  chief  of  police,  we need  to  do  a  little  victimology.  I  think  we  need  to ?nd out exactly who Spence Jefferies and Edgar Peeks really  are  and  what  they  were  into."
Chapter 24
Diane  and  Frank  studied  and  tried  to  digest  David's collection  of  information,  discussing  the  permutations and   possibilities   that   would   explain   the   evidence. Diane was ?nding it mentally exhausting. She spotted another  folder  in  David's  briefcase  and  pulled  it  out.
"What's  this?"  she  asked.
"Oh,  that's  my  sociological  research,"  he  said.  He took  the  folder  from  Diane  and  opened  it.  "This  is interesting."
The  ?rst  page  was  a  map.  On  closer  examination, Diane  recognized  it  as  a  map  of  the  voting  districts in  Rosewood.
"The  red  dots  are  burglaries,"  said  David.  "Notice that they  cluster in areas  where voting  is traditionally the  heaviest."
"The  mayor  was  that  organized?"  Diane  was  in­ credulous.
"It's  better  than  that,"  said  David.  "I  analyzed  the homes  that  were  burgled.  It  was  always  a  prominent member of some group-church, Lions Club, Rotary- and  usually  at  least  two  members  of  the  organization were  victims.  These  are  people  with  lots  of  connec­ tions  and  social  networks  who  would  talk  about  it  at their club meetings and with their friends and acquain­ tances, thereby making the problem look even bigger.
Having at least two members as victims just increased the  perception  that  crime  was  rising  at  an  alarming rate.  Our  late  mayor  was  a  clever  devil."
  Frank  noticed  that  his  neighborhood  was  one  of those  David  had  marked.
"I do recall some folks down the street had a prob­ lem,"  said  Frank.
"I  think  one  reason  you  weren't  hit,"  said  David, "is that you work in Atlanta. You'd talk to fewer peo­ ple  in  Rosewood  about  being  a  victim.  And  you  are a detective, so you might just take it upon yourself to go  after  the  perps."
"I  would  have,"  said  Frank.
"How  would  he  get  this  much  information?"  said Diane.
"Easy. One good graduate student could gather it for him.  Besides,  these  days  almost  everything  is  online.
And  there's  the  good  old-fashioned  way:  join  the  local chamber  of  commerce  and  they'll  give  you  a  truckload of  information  on  their  members,  on  businesses,  demo­ graphic   pro?les,   neighborhood   maps-you   name   it, they've  got  it.  Jefferies  had  to  live  in  Rosewood  for  at least a year before he ran for mayor. I think he used that time to gather information. Remember, he had Rosewood connections too. His grandparents lived here."
"I  didn't  know  that.  What  else  do  you  know  about him?"  asked  Diane.  "I  know  he  moved  here  from Atlanta,  but  I  don't  know  much  more  than  that."
David  pulled  several  pages  from  his  folder.  "More sociology,"  he  said,  smiling.
Diane recognized the pattern of information. It was a social network diagram. When she worked for World Accord International, her team would do a social net­ work  analysis  of  the  villages  they  were  going  into.
That let them know who the community leaders were and  what  their  range  of  in?uence  was.
"The  diagram  starts  with  Spence  Jefferies  and  lists the people he went to college with-Edgar Peeks and Lloyd  Bryce."
"Didn't Jefferies go to the University of Pennsylva­ nia? You aren't telling me that Lloyd Bryce graduated from  Penn?"  said  Diane.
"Diane,"  said  David,  "you  know  very  well  that  a person  can  be  both  smart  and  stupid  at  the  same time."
  "I'm  just  amazed  that  he  had  scores  good  enough to  get  in,"  she  said.
"He did," said David. "They all went to the Whar­ ton  School  of  Business."
"Really?  I  hardly  know  what  to  say.  That's  a  hard place  to  get  into.  But  what  quali?ed  Bryce  to  run  a crime  scene  unit?"  asked  Diane.
"Nothing,"  said  David.  "Was  that  not  obvious?"
"He  really  got  into  Wharton  on  his  own?"  said Diane. She was having a hard time wrapping her brain around  Bryce  having  any  intelligence  whatsoever.
David  laughed.  "Bryce's  scores  were  the  highest  of any  of  them."
Diane  shook  her  head.  "Who  knew?"
"Exactly  how  do  you  know?"  asked  Frank.  "How were  you  able  to  get  such  personal  information?"
"Part  of  the  information  I  got  from  Bryce  himself.
He  likes  to  brag,"  said  David.
"And  the  other  parts?"  asked  Frank.
"Through  investigation,"  said  David.
He and Frank held eye contact for several moments.
"You're  a  good  investigator,"  said  Frank.
"Yes,  I  am,"  said  David.
Diane  could  see  Frank  wanted  to  ask  more  ques­ tions. And he probably realized he would get no satis­ factory  answers.  David  was  very  secretive  about  how he  did  things.
She  looked  at  the  diagram.  It  showed  circles  with the  names  of  Lloyd  Bryce,  Edgar  Peeks,  and  Spence Jefferies,  with  lines  connecting  all of  them  to  one  an­ other.  Edgar  Peeks  was also  connected  to  several  po­ licemen  he  had  hired.  Lloyd  Bryce  was  connected  to the guard at the overlook, to the DNA tech/detective he wanted Jin to hire, to Rikki Gillinick, and to Jenni­ fer   Jeffcote-Smith.   Jennifer   was   also   connected   to Shane  Eastling,  the  new  medical  examiner.
"Do  you  think  Shane  Eastling  was  a  member  of Jefferies'  little  cabal?"  asked  Diane.
  "I  don't  know,"  said  David.  "It  could  be  that  he simply  knew  Jennifer  and  recommended  her.  But  he would  have  had  to  know  Bryce  was  looking  for  a  fo­ rensic  anthropologist-ergo  he  would  have  to  know Bryce  in  some  capacity.  However,  it  could  have  oc­ curred  in  passing-at  a  crime  scene  Bryce  mentioned he  was  looking  and  Shane  knew  somebody.  I  haven't done full research on Shane yet. Nor do I know where Bryce  found  Rikki  or  Curtis,  or  where  Peeks  found the  policemen  he  hired.  There's  a  lot  I  don't  know."
  "It's  hard  to  fathom,"  commented  Frank.  "Where did  Shane  Eastling  go  to  school,  do  you  know?"
  "Cal  State  and  the  University  of  Chicago,"  said David.  "He  grew  up  outside  of  Los  Angeles,  as  did Jennifer."
  "You know," said Frank, "you should just turn this over  to  Janice  Warrick  and  let  the  police  take  over from  here.  Now  that  the  principals  at  the  center  of this  are  dead,  they're  no  longer  a  problem.  That  is, except  to  discover  what  they  were  up  to  and  who killed  them.  But  it's  not  your  problem  to  solve.  With the things Diane discovered about how Bryce mishan­ dled the crime scene, Garnett should be in the clear." He  paused  and  smiled.  "The  detectives  are  probably now  looking  for  the  shadowy  ?gure,"  he  added.
  David winced. "Look, I suppose I need to talk about that,"  he  said.
  Diane  didn't  say  anything.  Neither  did  Frank.  The three of them sat in the light of the chandelier staring at  one  another.
  "I   pulled   the   LUDs   on   all   their   phones,"   said David. "There was nothing that wasn't expected. That surprised  me.  Then  I  happened  to  remember  seeing Bryce talking on a cell that was different from the one he  normally  uses.  And  I  realized-they  used  prepaid cells  for  their  activities."
"What  exactly  were  their  activities?"  asked  Frank.
"You've made a convincing case that they were up to something,  but  do  you  have  any  idea  exactly  what that  was?"
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "No. I haven't a clue. That's why . . . That's why . . . Well,  damn.  Look,  like  I  told  Diane  earlier,  I  was casing  the  mayor's  place  looking  at  who  came  and went.  I  was  also  looking  for  an  opening  to  put  a  bug in  his  house.  I  thought  it  was  important  to  ?nd  out what he was up to, since I was convinced that he killed a judge and he staged a rash of burglaries for his own political  advancement."
  "Bug  the  mayor's  house?"  said  Frank.  "You  were really  going  to  do  that?"
  "I  couldn't  think  of  anything  else.  And  yes,  that means  I  was  there  the  night  he  was  killed.  But  the only  person  I  saw  that  night  was  Garnett.  I  believed he  was  innocent,  but  I  didn't  know  it  for  a  fact.  I didn't  hear  anything.  There  were  no  gunshots."
He stopped and took a breath. He looked miserable.
"I've been agonizing about coming forward. I didn't want  to  muddy  the  waters.  From  my  point  of  view,  I knew I wasn't the one who killed them. Until Garnett was arrested, I had no idea anyone would blame him."
"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  said  Frank.
"I don't know. Come forward but leave out the part about  wanting  to  bug  Jefferies,  I  guess.  But  I  don't have a good story as to why I was skulking around in a  hoodie.  I  thought  I  might  say  I  wanted  to  report Bryce  but  was  undecided,  so  I  just  stood  outside  his house  trying  to  ?gure  out  what  I  should  do.  Lame,  I know.  But  the  truth-well,  more  or  less."
"For  now,  Garnett  is  in  the  clear,  I  think.  I'll  ?nd out," said Diane. "You can tell the truth. Say you had all this evidence that Jefferies may have been involved in a murder, but you couldn't go to the police because you  thought  the  chief  of  police  was  in  on  it.  So  you decided   to   investigate   Jefferies   yourself.   That's   all true.  You  don't  have  to  say  you  were  going  to  plant an  illegal  bug.  But  ?rst,  let's  see  what's  up."  She turned  to  Frank.  "What  do  you  think?"
"That  sounds  like  a  plan,"  he  said.  He  looked  at David. "One way or another, you're going to have to clear  up  your  presence  on  the  video."
	Beverly  Connor   David nodded. "I should have thought of the simple explanation.  That's  the  trouble  when  you  embark  on a  life  of  crime.  Your  thinking  gets  muddled."
Diane went to the phone and called Colin Prehoda.
He  would  know  if  Garnett  had  been  released.  She dialed  his  cell  and  he  answered  on  the  ?rst  ring.
"Diane, I'm glad you called. There are some things I  need  to  tell  you."
After  listening  to  Colin,  Diane  hung  up  the  phone and  sat  back  down  on  the  couch  beside  Frank.
"Well, the good news is they've dropped the charges against Garnett on the murder of Jefferies because the evidence  was  muddied  by  Bryce.  The  bad  news  is  it was  a  bullet  from  Garnett's  gun  that  killed  Edgar Peeks-and  Garnett  had  his  gun  on  him  when  Colin and  I  found  him  over  the  body."
Chapter 25
"What   are   you   saying?"   said  Frank.   "Garnett   shot Edgar Peeks?" He looked as disbelieving as Diane felt.
"That's   what   the   police   are   saying,"   she   said.
"That's what ballistics shows, and it sounds very much like  what  Colin  believes."
"Who  did  the  ballistics?"  said  David.
"I'm  sure  they  did  it  at  Rosewood's  ballistic  lab," said  Diane.  "Unless  they  sent  it  to  the  GBI,  but  I doubt  they  did  that.  I  didn't  ask."
Diane  was  still  reeling  from  the  news.  She  grabbed Frank's  hand.  It  was  warm.
"I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said.  "I  can't  believe  Gar- nett's  a  murderer.  Something  is  wrong."
"What does Prehoda want you to do?" asked Frank.
"He  wants  me  to  continue  to  investigate,  but  he's up  against  the  wall  on  this  one.  He  says  if  we  can discover  what  the  mayor  and  his  friends  were  up  to, then  we  can  show  that  Garnett  had  reason  to  fear them,  that  he  had  reason  to  fear  for  Rosewood.  I didn't have a chance to tell him about Judge McNevin.
He  was  in  a  hurry.  But  it  will  certainly  reinforce  his thinking."
David stood up. "I have to go downtown right now.
They  need  to  know  I  was  there."
He  looked  at  all  the  papers  and  photographs  lying on the coffee table as if it was going to be impossible to  pick  them  all  up  and  get  them  back  in  order.
"Wait  on  that,"  said  Frank  as  David  bent  down  to pick  up  his  briefcase.  "It  won't  change  the  ballistics evidence,  and  right  now  you're  under  the  radar.  That gives  you  an  investigative  advantage."
  Diane  looked  at  Frank  in  surprise.  She  thought  he would be the one to insist that David go to the police immediately  and  identify  himself  as  the  person  in  the video. David  was surprised too.  He looked  blankly at Frank  for  a  moment,  still  stooped  over  his  briefcase, then  slowly  sat  back  down.  He  let  out  a  deep  breath. Diane   understood   his   relief.   The   revelation   could ruin  David.
"A  few  minutes  ago,"  said  Frank,  straightening the  papers  on  his  coffee  table,  putting  them  into  or­ derly  stacks  again,  "I  said  this  is  now  the  police's business and they should be the ones to deal with it.
But   I've   since   rethought   that   position.   I've   been looking  at  your  network  diagram  and  it's  got  me wondering."
Frank put  a stack of  photographs down  and leaned forward,  resting  his  forearms  on  his  knees.
"In  the  beginning,  it  looked  to  you  like  the  mayor was  in  charge  of  this  conspiracy,  cabal,  or  whatever you want to call it because  he was the mayor, he was in  the  highest  leadership  position.  But  was  he  the leader?  Maybe,  maybe  not."
Frank  put  the  tips  of  his  ?ngers  on  the  page  with the diagram. "You were able to network only the peo­ ple  who  were  actually  seen  together.  Any  one  of  us could  have  made  this  diagram  from  what  we  knew about  the  of?cial  relationships  among  these  people.
Consider the possibility that this is all that's meant to be  seen.  Are  there  others  involved  we  are  unaware of? How many people in the police department are in on  whatever  it  is?  For  that  matter,  what  about  other areas of the government, or businesses in Rosewood?
What about the people the mayor and his buddies put in  the  police  department?  What  are  they  doing  now?
Taking  up  the  banner?  I  hate  to  say  it,  but  I  think you  have  to  continue  doing  what  you  are  doing  until you  can  answer  those  questions."
  David  didn't  say  anything  for  a  moment.  He  just rubbed  his  hand  over  his  bald head.  "Right  now  I'm at  a  loss  for  where  to  look,"  he  said.  "That's  why  I wanted  to  listen  to  what  went  on  in  the  mayor's house.  I  was  hoping  for  a  new  lead.  I  mean,  what the  hell  was  his  goal?  It  had  to  be  more  than  what we  see."
  "He  lived  in  Atlanta  before  he  moved  to  Rose­ wood,"  said  Diane.  "Perhaps  the  answer  lies  there. Does  he  have  any  relatives  still  here?"
  "No   relatives.   His   grandparents   are   dead,"   said David.  "He  had  an  advertising  business  in  Atlanta, the  same  one  he  still  owned  when  he  was  murdered. They do local Atlanta commercials. From what I could ?nd  out,  they  are  squeaky  clean."
  "Have you looked at companies in any of the other principals'  names?"  said  Frank.
  "Peeks  worked  in  a  recruitment  ?rm  in  Atlanta. Bryce  was  in  banking-he  was  a  vice  president  of  a bank  in  Connecticut,"  said  David.  "I  haven't  been able  to  ?nd  anything  suspicious  so  far.  None  of  the companies  are  under  any  kind  of  investigation.  I'm still  looking.  The  only  really  suspicious  thing  is  they all made  a lot more money  in their former  jobs than they  do  here.  Except  the  mayor.  He's  the  only  one who  still  had  ties  to  his  former  business-as  far  as  I know  now.  As  I  said,  I'm  still  looking."
  "That  should  tell  us  something  right  there,"  said Diane.  "My  impression  of  them  is  that  they  don't seem to be the type of people who would take a sub­ stantial  downgrade  in  pay."
  "None  of  them  had  any  shadow  companies  that  I can  ?nd,"  continued  David.  He  shook  his  head.  He seemed  at  a  loss.
"How about the next tier down in your chart?" said Frank.  "Rikki,  what's  her  name."
David   gave   Frank  a   blank   stare   for  a   moment.
"Damn.  I  didn't  think  of  Lollipop.  That  would  have required  a  paradigm  shift.  I'll  do  that."
"There's  one  place  you  can  go  that  may  already have  quite  a  bit  of  information  on  Jefferies,"  Frank said.
"Where?"  asked  David.
"Walter   Sutton,   the   ex-mayor,"   said   Diane.   "Of course. He would have investigated Jefferies during the campaign-hell,  he  would have had  him followed."
David  spent  the  night  at  Frank's.  They  worked  out a  plan  to  interview  the  ex-mayor,  Walter  Sutton.  It would  be  a  little  tricky.  Diane  didn't  really  want  the mayor  to  know exactly  what  was  going on.  He  tended to  be  a  sieve  when  it  came  to  information.  They  de­ cided to tell him they were helping Garnett. The mayor liked  Garnett.  Or  at  least  he  did  the  last  time  they checked.  Sutton  was  not  above  abandoning  people  he thought might be a political drag on him. They decided to  give  him  one  juicy  bit  of  information  to  chew  on.
Diane  hoped  it  would  make  him  more  eager  to  give her  information.  She  had  been  afraid  that  Walter  Sut­ ton  might not  want her  to know  the  length he  himself would  go  to  to  ?nd  information  on  an  opponent.
Diane decided to do the interview herself and to go alone.  She  liked  the  idea  of  keeping  David  off  the radar.  Sutton  would  have  it  all  over  town  that  David was   investigating.   It   didn't   matter   if   people   knew Diane was looking into the murders. Everyone already knew  she  worked  for  Garnett's  lawyer.
Diane  asked  David  where  he  had  been  holed  up.
He told her at the museum, in his rooms down in the basement. He'd been eating from the break room and the   restaurant.   It   wasn't   that   he   was   avoiding   his home,  but  his  computer  in  his  museum  basement  of­
?ce  was  more  powerful  and  was  linked  to  the  crime lab-unknown  to  Bryce.
"There's another thing we have to ?nd out about," said Diane. "What Bryce was looking for in Jefferies' house. I know he was searching for something in par­ ticular,  not  just  working  the  crime  scene.  Pendleton said  they  talked  about  some  kind  of  list.  If  you  had Jefferies'  computer,  could  you  ?nd  out  what's  on  it?
Janice  said  it's  encrypted  pretty  heavily."
"Maybe,"  said  David.  "I  could  give  it  a  try."
  "Another thing,"  said Diane. "We  need to  tell Ed­ ward Van Ross what's going on-at least about Karen McNevin. He's the acting mayor and he needs to know that Jefferies may have had a judge murdered. Not to mention that his police department may be holding an innocent  person  for  the  crime."
"That's  a  full  day  you  have  planned  tomorrow," said  Frank.
"I  know,  and  I'd  better  get  to  bed."  She  stood  up and  stretched.
Diane  showed  David  the  guest  room  and  wished him  good  night.
"Get  some  sleep,"  she  said.
"Actually,  I  feel  better.  It's  good  to  get  it  off  my chest.  It's  been  worrying  me,  especially  now-the  an­ niversary.  My  dreams  haven't  been  good  lately."
  "You  trust  David?"  said  Frank  when  they  were  in bed.
  Diane was lying with her back up against his chest- spoons,  she'd  heard  her  grandmother  call  it.  It  felt comfortable  and  safe.
"Where did that come from?" said Diane. "Of course I  do."
"Sometimes he's a little strange, and I wonder if he could  have gone  vigilante on  us.  I don't  think he  did, but  it  has  crossed  my  mind."
"He wouldn't," said Diane. "No more than I would.
He'll   skirt   the   law-like   breaking   into   a   suspect's home and planting a bug if the circumstances are dire enough.  But  murder?  No.  Absolutely  not."
"How  good  is  he  with  computers?"  asked  Frank.
"You  know  how  good  Mike  is  at  rock  climbing?" said  Diane.  "David  is  that  good  with  computers."
"That  good?"  Frank  said.
"Yes. As good as you are a lover," she said, turning over  to  face  him.
"Wow,  he's  that  good,  is  he?"  said  Frank.
*	*	*
  Diane let David sleep in. For breakfast Frank ?xed her one of his good stick-to-your-ribs recipes, oatmeal mixed  with  fried  apples.  She  left  David  a  note,  and she and  Frank parted  at the door;  Frank drove  off to Atlanta,  and  Diane  drove  to  the  mayor's  of?ce  to speak  with  Edward  Van  Ross.  She  had  called  ahead and  found  that  Buford  Monroe,  the  old-new  chief  of police,  was  there.  She  supposed  that  Edward  wanted Monroe  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say.
  "Are  you  all  right?"  said  Edward.  His  blue-gray eyes  were  clouded  with  concern.  "I  didn't  have  time to  ask  you  about  your  misadventure  at  the  meeting."
  "It's  mainly  bruises,"  said  Diane,  though  her  face hurt  like  hell  where  Delamore  had  hit  her.
"Would you mind telling us about it?" said Monroe.
"I'm  getting  calls,  you  know,  concerned  citizens  who want  to  know  why  a  policeman  was  killed,  what  we are  doing  about  it.  You  know  how  people  are.  They don't  want  to  believe  there's  a  bad  cop."
Just  a  bad  museum  director.  Diane  had  thought  it was  behind  her.  She  thought since  the  GBI  had  done the  math  for  them,  she  wouldn't  have  to  deal  with  it.
But  apparently  they  wanted  to  hear  what  happened from her lips, maybe to look at her face when she told it, just to make sure. So she told them the story again.
The chief of police pulled on his lower lip as Diane spoke.  Edward  had  no  nervous  gestures.  He  sat  lis­ tening, one arm on the table, the other resting on the arm  of  the  chair,  his  frown  deepening  as  the  story progressed.
"Why  on  earth  did  you  go  out  on  the  cliff?"  said Chief  Monroe when  Diane  ?nished  the story.  "That's what  I  don't  understand."
"Diane is a caver," said Edward. "She climbs rocks.
I  imagine  that  was  a  familiar  place  for  her  and  one that  didn't  represent  danger-as  staying  with  Dela­ more  obviously  did."
The chief looked unconvinced. Not, Diane realized, that  he  doubted  her  story, just  that  he  couldn't  imag­ ine feeling safe and cozy hanging on the side of a cliff.
  "Edward  is  right,"  said  Diane.  "I've  climbed  that cliff  many  times.  I  was  familiar  with  it."
"Ah,"  said  Monroe.  He  smiled.  He  seemed  to  un­ derstand  now.
"There's something I need to tell you," said Diane.
"It's  about  the  evidence  David  analyzed  from  Judge McNevin's crime scene. He was very concerned about it  and  was  hesitant  to  go  to  Bryce,  for  reasons  which will  become  obvious."
Diane laid out the evidence to them that David had presented  to  her.  They  were  astounded  by  what  she had to say. Both of them were silent for a long while.
"This is bad," said Edward. "This is the worst thing that could happen to Rosewood. The credibility of law enforcement   and   criminal   justice   and   public   con?­ dence  in  our  government  are  at  stake.  This  will  not do.  How  sure  are  you?"
"The  evidence  is  very  compelling,  and  it  convinced me. If you are asking me if it is conclusive-not com­ pletely. But it's so compelling that it renders the origi­ nal theory of the crime improbable," she said. "If the evidence was falsi?ed, as it appears it was, it may mean that   the   wrong   man   is   being   held   for   the   judge's murder."
"We have to untangle this," said Edward. "We can't have  anything  like  this  in  Rosewood."  He  turned  to the  chief.  "What  does  Bryce  have  to  say  for  himself about irregularities in procedures at the mayor's crime scene?"  he  said.
"I   asked   him   about   dusting   only   for   Garnett's prints,"  said  the  chief,  "and  about  several  troubling questions  that  other  detectives  have  brought  to  my attention.  And  you  know  we  are  being  sued  for  ten million  dollars  because  of  that  forensic  anthropolo­ gist  ?asco."
Diane wanted to tell him not to get off the subject, but  she  kept  her  mouth  shut.
"I   know,"   said   Edward.   "We   have   our   lawyers working  on  that.  What  did  Bryce  say?"
"He   denied   that   he   only   looked   for   Garnett's 	Beverly  Connor prints,"  said  the  chief.  "He  denied  just  about  every­ thing  we  asked  him.  He  kept  saying  he  handled  all the crime scenes to the best of his ability. He blamed this Jeffcote-Smith woman for the loss of Sheriff Can- ?eld's  bones.  I  tell  you,  Can?eld  is  having  a  ?t.  To tell  you  the  truth,  Lloyd  Bryce  can  plead  incompe­ tence and there isn't much we can do, except ?re him. That's  all  we  have  on  him-incompetence."
  "Which   brings   me   to   another   topic,"   said   the mayor, turning to Diane. "We have relieved Bryce of his position. We want you to take back the crime lab." Diane  was  silent  for  a  full  minute.  "The  museum," she began, and the mayor raised his hand to ward off what  she  was  going  to  say.
  "Mother and Colin Prehoda drew up new contracts. Nothing  like  this  will  happen  again.  If  it  should,  the crime  lab  will  be  moved  from  museum  property  at your  discretion.  No  appeal,  no  higher  authority  than you,"  he  said.
  "Very well," said Diane and wondered why she was agreeing.  But  deep  down  she  knew.  It  was  the  same reason Buford Monroe agreed to take his old job back as chief of  police. It was a vindication.  No matter the reasons  for  what  had  happened,  getting  ?red  stung. And  vindication  soothed  the  sting.
  Another  reason  she  said  yes  was  that  in  her  heart Diane  enjoyed  the  crime  lab.  She  liked  to  catch  bad guys. It was true she had been happy with all her free time,  but  she  was  happy  with  the  lab  too.  Perhaps there  was  a  compromise-making  David  assistant  di­ rector,  for  instance.
  "What  about  Rikki?"  said  Diane.  "I  believe  she's in the thick of things with the mayor and his buddies."
  "You can ?re her," said Edward. "Or you can keep her  for  a  while  and  try  to  get  information  out  of  her. You  know  how  to  do  these  things."
"When  do  you  want  me  to  start?"  asked  Diane.
"Just  as  soon  as  you  are  able.  I  have  the  papers here,"  he  said.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  Edward  motioned  to  a  clerk  and  he  brought  over several  papers  for  her  to  sign.
  Diane read  them. So, Vanessa  Van Ross  and Colin Prehoda drew them up. Everyone was back on board. Diane  smiled  and  signed  the  contract.
Chapter 26
Diane walked to her SUV in the city hall parking lot. She  stopped  several  feet  away  and  looked  at  it  for  a moment. A ray of sunlight peeked through the blanket of winter clouds and re?ected off the bright red ?nish. It looked pretty. She liked her vehicle. At least it didn't get  trashed  this  time.  She  thought  about  the  number of  times  her  attackers  had  taken  their  anger  out  not only  on  her  but  also  on  her  car.
  As she was about to get in, she saw Janice Warrick and  Izzy  coming  toward  her.
  "You  need  to  put  a  steak  or  something  on  that face,"  said  Izzy,  squinting  as  if  it  hurt  to  look  at  her.
"It  still  looks  pretty  bad."
"I  know. I  tried makeup,  but  I end  up looking  like a  corpse,"  said  Diane.  She  stood  and  waited.  From their  expressions,  she  could  tell  they  wanted  to  talk, probably  about  Garnett.  Izzy  shifted  his  weight  from one foot to the other. Janice studied the ground, mov­ ing  a  pebble  with  the  toe  of  her  shoe.  They  both  be­ lieved Garnett killed Peeks, and they felt guilty about believing  it,  thought  Diane.  They  wanted  her  to  tell them  they  were  wrong.
"It  doesn't  look  good  for  Garnett,"  said  Izzy.
"What  about  Shane  Eastling?"  said  Diane.  "He's been acting kind of . . . kind of like he's on the other side.  Could  he  have  substituted  the  bullet?"
Janice  shook  her  head.  "I  was  at  the  autopsy.  So was  Izzy.  We  wanted  to  get  the  bullet  to  ballistics  as soon  as  possible."
"We  saw  Eastling  dig  it  out  of  Peeks'  brain,"  said Izzy,  wrinkling  his  face.
Diane  wondered  whether  that  was  the  ?rst  autopsy he  had  ever  attended.  She  couldn't  imagine  it.  He'd been  a  policeman  for  a  long  time.
"Chief  Monroe  is  getting  less  inclined  to  look  for another   killer,"   said   Janice.   "He   wants   everything wrapped  up  real  quick.  I'm  afraid  they  are  going  to cut  Garnett  loose,"  she  said.
"We  still  want  you  to  look  into  it,"  said  Izzy.
"I  will,"  said  Diane.  "I  have  a  hard  time  believing he  killed  Peeks.  There  has  to  be  an  answer."
Izzy  and  Janice  both  seemed  to  relax.
"Even  if,  by  some ...  Even  if  he  did  kill  Peeks," said  Izzy,  "there  must  have  been  a  reason  that  he doesn't want to talk about-like protecting somebody, something like that. And the evidence against him for doing Jefferies is nothing, in my book." He shrugged.
"I'm  afraid  they'll  want  to  lump  all  the  murders  to­ gether  just  to  get  this  over  with."
"I don't intend to let it go," said Diane. "You know I'm  back  in  charge  of  the  crime  lab."
"We  heard,"  said  Izzy.  "That's  great.  Bryce  is  in this  up  to  his  eyeballs  in  some  way."
"He's   slippery,"   said   Janice.  "I   interviewed   him about  how  he  worked  the  Jefferies  crime  scene.  He denied   framing   Garnett.   Gave   some   razzle-dazzle about ?rst ?nding prints with black lights before lifting them.  I  told  him  he'd  still  have  to  use  special  pow­ ders."  Janice  smiled  proudly.  "He  tried  to  tell  me  I didn't  know  what  I  was  talking  about.  Then  he  said both of the surfaces where he got the prints were shiny and he could see that only one set of prints was there.
And  I  said,  'Even  on  the  kitchen  counter?'  He  stuck to  his  story.  The  chief  thought  he  was  just  trying  to look  incompetent  rather  than  guilty.  I  don't  know.
Like  I  said,  Bryce  is  slippery."
  "Bryce  and  Rikki  were  looking  for  a  list  at  the crime  scene,"  said  Diane.  "Did  Bryce  say  anything about  a  list?"
  Janice raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "They were looking  for  something,  I'd  wager,  but  I  don't  know what. Want me to get  Bryce back in?"  she asked.
  Diane  shook  her  head.  "Let's  keep  it  to  ourselves right  now.  Van  Ross  suggested  I  might  want  to  keep Rikki  on  for  a  while  to  see  if  she  reveals  anything."
"I  never  realized  he  could  be  so  sneaky,"  said  Ja­ nice,  smiling.  "He  seems  so  nice."
The  cold  was  getting  to  Diane  and  she  started  to shiver.  "I'm  going  to  the  museum.  There  are  a  few leads I'm working on. I don't know how I'm going to prove who killed Jefferies and Peeks, but I will." She stopped and looked sharply at Janice. "Who took Gar- nett's  gun  at  the  crime  scene?"
Janice  Warrick  frowned.  "I  did."
Diane's  face  fell.  She  thought  she  was  on  to  some­ thing.
"I'll  ?gure  it  out,"  she  said  and  got  in  her  car.  I don't  know  how,  but  I'll  ?gure  it  out.
Diane  drove  to  the  museum  and  parked  in  her space.  She  sat  there  watching  people  come  and  go, thinking  she  should  have  driven  around  back  and  en­ tered  by  a  rear  door.  She  was  looking  so  bad,  worse than  when  Delamore  ?rst  attacked  her.  No  kind  of makeup  is  going  to  hide  this,  she  thought.  And  she'd planned  on  trying  to  see  the  former  mayor  today.
Well,  hell.  She  got  out  and  walked  into  the  museum and  to  her  of?ce.  She  got  a  few  stares,  but  no  one said  anything.  Good.  Maybe  it  looked  bad  only  in the  sunlight.
David was in Andie's of?ce waiting for her. Appar­ ently he hadn't slept too late. He looked better. Obvi­ ously getting his fears and suspicions off his chest had been  good  for  him.
"David, I'm rescinding your resignation," said Diane.
"What?"  he  said.  He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment, then  smiled.  "You  have  the  crime  lab  back."
  "Yes, with a very tightly written contract-by Vanessa and  Colin  Prehoda.  I  want  to  go  over  everything  and see  what  we  have  to  do  to  get  everything  back  on track.  And  I  want  to  revisit  the  crime  scene  at  the mayor's  house  before  I  see  former  mayor  Sutton."
  The  relief  he  felt  was  obvious.  Diane  could  almost see  all  the  tension  drain  out  of  him  as  he  collapsed onto  one  of  the  stuffed  chairs.  He  looked  like  a  man whose  world  was  righted  again.
  "Nice  to  have  things  back  to  normal,"  said  David. He  rubbed  his  hands  together.  "What  are  you  going to  do  with  Lollipop?"  he  said.
"Keep  her  on  and  see  if  she  leads  us  anywhere," said  Diane.
Diane  went  to  her  of?ce  and  called  Colin.
"Since I'm back as director of the crime lab, I can't be  working  for  you."
"Already severed," he said. "When Edward said he wanted to put you back in the crime lab, I took steps to  change  our  relationship.  But  I  hope  you  are  still going  to  investigate  the  deaths."
"Yes. We all need to untangle this mess to get Rose­ wood  right  again,"  she  said.  "Can  you  tell  me  what Garnett  says  about  the  gun?"
"This is certainly dif?cult. I can tell you that he still maintains  his  innocence."
"I  intend  to  go  over  the  mayor's  house  again  and see if I can ?nd anything new. I'm sure the prosecutor will  share  with  you  any  discoveries  I  make."
"You're  sure  of  that,  are  you?  I'll  have  to  stand on  him  to  make  certain  he  does.  You've  dealt  with Riddmann,"  said  Colin.
Diane  frowned.  "Let's  just  see  what  happens."
She  turned  to  David  when  she  hung  up.  "Now,  do you  want  to  go  see  what  condition  my  crime  lab  is in?"
Diane  decided  to  enter  the  crime  lab  through  her osteology  lab.  David  was  with  her.  So  was  Izzy.  She had  called  Izzy in  case  Bryce  decided to  dig  his  heels in,  and  she  didn't  want  to  involve  museum  security.
"It's like The Return of the King," said David. "I'm Legolas. Though he had more hair and great ears, but I  can  handle  it.  Izzy's  Gimli.  And  of  course,  you're Aragorn.  You  guys  have  your  swords  ready?"
Izzy  chuckled.  "I  forgot  my  axe,  but  I  have  a  gun.
Will  that  do?"
Diane shook her head. David was far too giddy. He was  acting  like  Jin.
She  punched  the  key  code  that  unlocked  the  door between  the  crime  lab  and  her  lab.  She'd  expected  it to be like entering a tomb-dark, long, and vacant. It wasn't,  of  course.  All  the  lights  were  on  and  Rikki was  there,  sitting  in  her  cubicle  working  on  her  com­ puter.  Neva  was  getting  a drink  from  the  water  foun­ tain near the conference table. David had given her a heads-up;  Diane  could  tell  by  the  look  on  her  face.
She  came  over  and  hugged  Diane.
"Welcome back," she said. "I am so glad to see you.
Really  glad."
However,   Diane   didn't   think   David   had   alerted Rikki. She looked surprised to see them. But her face quickly  reverted  back  to  a  sullen  expression.  It  was quite   different   from   the   isn't-this-fun   attitude   she showed  when  Can?eld  was  blowing  his  top  at  Bryce.
Bryce  had  probably  told  Rikki  he  wasn't  in  charge anymore.
What do you know about all this? thought Diane as she  looked  at  Rikki.
Diane  shifted  her  gaze  to  the  rest  of  the  room-a series  of  tiny  labs  in  glass-walled  work  spaces  con­ taining equipment to examine and analyze almost any­ thing, whether it was a gas, liquid, or solid. The crime lab could identify alloys, crystalline structures, and so­ lutions. The techs could separate compounds into their components,  separate  large  molecules  from  mixtures, or analyze their concentrations in a solution. They could separate  and  identify  sounds,  detect  their  frequency and  intensity.  They  could  analyze  impressions,  tool marks,  and  documents.  The  lab  had  an  impressive array  of  national  and  international  databases  at  its disposal-CODIS   for   DNA,   AFIS   for   ?ngerprint. They had databases for bullet casings, tire treads, ciga­ rette butts, ?bers, shoe prints, animal tracks, hair, fur, textiles,  buttons,  paint,  bugs,  plants,  and  more;  and they had software that could match, categorize, corre­ late,  and  render  a  map  of  all  those  things.  It  was  a good  lab.  Diane  was  proud  of  it.  Now  she  had  to  see what  Bryce  had  done  to  it.
  She  inspected  each  room.  It  didn't  look  too  bad, but  in  some  of  the  rooms  she  was  dismayed  to  see  a thin  layer  of  dust.
"Something's  happened  to  the  air  ?ltration,"  said Diane.
"We tried to keep the equipment clean," said Neva.
"But ..."  She  didn't  ?nish  her  sentence.
Diane  knew  by  we  Neva  meant  herself  and  David.
Rikki's cubicle was the worst. There were food crumbs, coffee rings, and clutter all over her work space. And a  jar  ?lled  with  suckers-lollipops.
"You  can  drink  coffee  at  the  conference  table,  but nowhere  else.  No  food  is  allowed  in  the  lab  at  all,"
Diane  said  to  her.
Rikki's  frown  deepened.  "Bryce  let  me  eat  in  my own  space,"  she  said.
"That's  irrelevant,"  said  Diane.  "These  are  the  rules now."
Rikki didn't say anything. Diane could see she wanted to  glare  at  her  but  had  the  good  sense  not  to.  Diane wondered if she would quit. And if she didn't, why? She had been thinking about Edward's suggestion-let Rikki work  here  and  see  if  she  led  her  to  any  information about  what  the  heck  was  going  on.  She  may  be  just an  innocent  person  who  wasn't  trained  right,  or  she may be involved in whatever Bryce was. Diane wanted to  ?nd  out.
"David is going to be assistant director of the crime lab," Diane continued. "In my absence, he's the boss.
Miss  Gillinick,  since  you're  new  here,  you  will  be going on calls with either Neva or David until you get used  to  the  way  we  do  things."
"I've  gone  on  lots  of  crime  scenes  by  myself,"  said Rikki.  "I  do  good  work."
"That may be true, but I do things a little differently.
Just   consider   this   a   refresher   course,"   said   Diane.
"Now,  David,  call  TechClean  and  have  them  go  over the  lab.  This  would  be  a  good  time  to  get  a  mainte­ nance  check  on  the  equipment  and  have  instruments recalibrated.  Find  out  what  is  wrong  with  the  air  ?l­ tration.  Do  whatever  it  takes."
"Sure  thing,  boss,"  said  David.  Diane  thought  he gave  the  word  boss  a  little  too  heavy  an  emphasis.
"Neva, I want you to catch me up on all the pending cases. We're  also going back  to Jefferies' house  to go over the crime scenes again." Out of the corner of her eye   she   saw   Rikki   come   alert.   Diane   couldn't   tell whether  she   liked  or  disliked  the   idea.  Maybe   this would be  a  good  learning  experience  for  all  of  them.
Diane  motioned  to  the  conference  table.  "Rikki,  I would like you to sit down and tell me everything you know  about  Sheriff  Can?eld's  bones."
Rikki looked startled. "What? I don't know anything about  them,"  she  said.
"I just want you to tell me what you remember about them.  Please,  sit  down,"  said  Diane.
Rikki  reluctantly  walked  over  to  the  table  and  sat down, interlacing her ?ngers in front of her. The oth­ ers  sat  around  the  table,  including  Izzy.  Diane  was surprised  he  didn't  take  his  leave.
"What  do  you  remember  about  the  bones?"  said Diane. "We need to try to ?nd them. It's important."
"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  me.  That  was  Jennifer's thing,"  said  Rikki.
"But you're a member of the team; we need you to help.  What  do  you  remember?"
Rikki looked very uncomfortable with all their eyes on  her.
"Bryce  brought them  up  here.  He said  the  sheriff's deputy  gave  them  to  him  in  the  parking  lot,  and  I believe  him."  Rikki  lifted  her  chin  as  if  daring  them to  disagree.  "He  gave  them  to  Jennifer  and  she  took SCATTERED  GRAVES them  to  the  darkroom  that  Bryce  told  her  to  make into a lab." Rikki smirked. "Jennifer was really pissed about having to go from that big lab to a dinky dark­ room.  She  hated  it."
"What  did  she  do  with  the  bones?"  said  Diane.
"She got  some  plastic tubs and  started sorting  them.
I  watched  her  for  a  while.  It's  boring  work.  I  don't know how she was sorting them. They all looked about the  same  to  me.  Just  chunks  of  bone.  I  quit  watching after  a  while.  She  worked  for  a  long  time."
"Who  asked  her  to  get  coffee?"  asked  Diane.
Rikki  shrugged.  "I  don't  remember.  She  came  out for  a  break  and  we  just  talked  about  getting  coffee.
We had to take the elevator and go down and around to  the  restaurant-it's  better  coffee  than  the  break room.  I  think  she  volunteered.  I  don't  remember."
"Did  anyone  else  come  up  while  she  was  gone?" asked  Diane.  "Any  visitors  to  the  lab?"
"No.  I  wasn't  there  the  whole  time.  I  went  to  the bathroom  and  had  a  smoke,  since  the  overlook  was closed  off,"  she  said.
Diane  saw  both  Neva  and  David  wince.  She  could swear  they  were  about  to  duck.
"What?"  said  Diane.  "You  smoked  on  the  over­ look? Did you notice the signs that say this is a smoke- free  building?  The  collections  here  are  sensitive  to contaminants  like  smoke-not  to  mention  the  equip­ ment  and  the  evidence.  You  don't  smoke  in  here,  in the  bathroom,  or  anyplace  inside  the  building."
Rikki  didn't  say  anything,  just  hunched  her  shoul­ ders.  Diane  looked  at  David  and  Neva.
"Did  you  know  she  was  smoking?"
"I  mentioned  to  her  she  wasn't  supposed  to,"  said Neva. "So did David. Bryce told her it was all right."
"And  you  didn't  mention  it  to  me?"  said  Diane.
"What  is  the  big  deal?"  said  Rikki.  "A  couple  of cigarettes a day. This is a big building. We are on the top  ?oor."
"It is a very big deal. And it is not to happen again.
However, let's get back to the bones. What happened 	Beverly  Connor when you came back from the bathroom? Did you see anyone  approach  Jennifer's  lab?"  said  Diane.
  "No. There was just me and Bryce. Curtis was here for  a  while.  He  goes  back  and  forth  from  here  to  the police  station.  I  can't  remember  when  he  came  or left,"  she  said.
"How  did  you  meet  Bryce?"  asked  Diane.
"This  sounds  like  more  of  an  interrogation,"  said Rikki.  "I  haven't  done  anything."
"I'm  just  trying  to  verify  your  bona  ?des,"  said Diane.  "I  don't  know  anything  about  you."
"Well  my  re´ sume´  is  on  ?le,"  she  said.
"Do  you  want  to  work  here?  I  haven't  asked  you that.  Perhaps  you  don't,"  said  Diane.
"He was at the job fair on campus. I graduated from Emory.  He  and  the  chief  of  police  had  a  booth  and were  taking  applications.  They  called  me  a  month  or so  ago."
"What about Curtis?" asked Diane. "Do you know how  he  knows  Bryce?"
Rikki  shrugged.  "I  have  no  idea."
"Where   is   the   evidence   from   Jefferies'   house?" asked  Diane.
"Evidence?"  said  Rikki.
"The  evidence  you  and  Bryce  collected  from  the mayor's  house  from  both  crime  scenes,"  said  Diane.
"Locked  up  in  the  vault,  I  guess,"  she  said.
"What  do  you  think  happened  to  the  bones?"  asked Diane.
"Jennifer's  bones?"  Rikki  shrugged.  "I  think  she couldn't do anything with them so she got rid of them and  claimed  they  were  stolen.  Bryce  thinks  you  took them,"  said  Rikki.
"Okay,   thank   you   for   answering   my   questions, Rikki.  First,  I  think  we'll  take  a  look  at  the  evidence from  the  mayor's  house,"  said  Diane.
Rikki's  face  brightened.
Chapter 27
Diane  was  puzzled  by  Rikki's  reaction.  She  found  it interesting-but puzzling. Rikki certainly bore watching.
"Is  the  computer  in  the  vault?"  asked  Diane.
"It  was  taken  to  the  police  station,"  said  Rikki.
"I  think  Janice  delivered  it  here,"  said  Izzy.  "We didn't have anybody there to deal with the encryption.
Bryce  said  he  would  ?nd  someone."
The room containing the vault was one of the rooms that  needed  some  serious  dusting.  Diane,  Neva,  and David  cleaned  the  examination  tables  before  opening the  vault.
The  vault  was  the  size  of  a  small  walk-in  closet.
Shelves  ?lled  with  boxes  of  evidence  lined  the  walls.
Diane didn't think it looked quite as neat as when she last  saw  it,  but  perhaps  she  was  being  hypercritical.
The computer was there sitting on the shelf, its key­ board  shoved  in  on  its  end  beside  it.
"Let's go through the evidence boxes ?rst; then you take  the  computer,  David,  and  see  what  you  can  do with  it,"  said  Diane.
There   were   two   cardboard   boxes   with   evidence from  the  mayor's  house.  Diane  took  the  boxes  from the Peeks and Jefferies murders to separate tables and opened  them.
She  took out  the  ?ngerprint  cards ?rst.  There  were four of them. One had Jefferies' prints, one had Peeks' prints,  and  two  had  Garnett's  prints-one  from  the hall  chest  and  one  from  the  kitchen  counter.  That was  all.
"Why  aren't  there  more  prints?"  asked  Diane.
"I don't know," said Rikki. "Bryce took the prints.
I  searched  the  house."
Diane took out evidence envelopes with blood sam­ ples  from  the  Peeks  and  Jefferies  scenes.  Again,  not enough samples. She took out the crime scene photo­ graphs.  They  were  pretty  good.
"I  took  those,"  said  Rikki  proudly.
"These  are  good,"  said  Diane.
Rikki  grinned  broadly.
Diane studied the stills. The mayor was slumped on the  ?oor,  half  on  his  back,  beside  a  bar  stool  at  the island  in  the  kitchen.  Blood  was  pooled  under  his head.  There  was  a  plate  of  what  looked  like  nachos on the counter. Apparently a favorite of the mayor. A splatter of blood covered the counter in ?ne droplets.
Diane, David, and Neva laid out the victims' clothes, using  a  different  table  for  each  of  the  victims.  Peeks' silk  shirt  and  cashmere  sweater  were  spattered  with blood  on  the  back.  It  was  high-velocity  spatter.
"Did you take any blood samples from the clothes?" asked  Diane.
Rikki  shrugged.  "Bryce  handled  all  the  blood.  He took some samples from the scene. He said that when what  has  occurred  is  self-evident,  you  can  sample  the evidence.   Anything   more   is   a   waste   of   time   and money.  That  was  the  big  criticism  they  had  of  you- you  wasted  money,"  said  Rikki.
"Did he take a representative sample?" said Diane.
"What?"  asked  Rikki.
"Under  his  philosophy,  he  would  have  to  take  a representative  sampling.  Did  he?"  she  asked  again.
"I  don't  know,"  Rikki  said.
"One  of  the  things  we  need  to  do  is  make  sure  all the blood belongs to Jefferies. We may have the perp's blood  somewhere.  That  way  we  can  reconstruct  the crime  scene."
"Someone came in and shot the mayor," said Rikki.
  "Where  did  he  come  from?"  said  David.  "Was  he in  the  house  waiting  for  him?  Did  Jefferies  let  him in?  Did  he  know  him?  Was  it  a  stranger?  There's  a lot  of  questions."
  "What  do  you  think  happened?"  asked  Rikki.  "It looks  to  me  like  he  had  to  let  him  in.  I  mean,  the mayor's house would have been hard to break in to."
  "Possibly,"  said  Diane.  "But  the  only  way  you  can get  an  accurate  picture  is  to  collect  the  evidence.  If we  are really  lucky, the  perp will  have gotten  a nose­ bleed."  She  smiled  at  Rikki.
  Diane looked at the clothes again. Both victims had expensive   tastes-Ermenegildo   Zegna,   Just   Cavalli, Armani, Ferragamo. She poured out the effects found in  their  pockets  and  on  their  bodies.  The  two  had identical signet rings embossed with an image of Alex­ ander  the  Great.  She  rolled  her  eyes  and  shook  her head.
  "Look  at  this,"  said  David.  He  handed  Diane  a watch  that  belonged  to  Mayor  Jefferies.
Diane  cocked  an  eyebrow.
"Expensive?"  asked  Izzy.
"About  ?fteen  thousand  dollars  expensive,"  said Diane.  "It's  a  BRM  Chrono-Automatic  watch.  Very limited  number  made."
"Wow,  can  I  hold  it?"  asked  Izzy.
Diane  handed  it  to  him.
"What  does  it  do?  Is  it  some  kind  of  computer?"
"It's a hand-crafted watch made with expensive ma­ terials,"  said  Diane.
Izzy  looked  at  his  watch,  then  at  the  mayor's,  and shook his head. "I could get me a good boat for ?fteen thousand  dollars,"  he  said.
Diane  noticed  how  uncomfortable  Rikki  was  get­ ting.  She  knew  why.
"That's  a  nice  watch  you're  wearing,"  Diane  said.
Rikki  gave  a  small  self-conscious  laugh.  "My  boy­ friend  gave  it  to  me.  It's  a  knockoff,"  she  said.
"You'll have to tell your boyfriend he made a good buy. It's not a knockoff, it's a real Cartier Tank Fran­
	Beverly  Connor c¸ aise.  Very  nice,"  said  Diane.  She  wondered  whether that was the shiny object Of?cer Pendleton saw Rikki pocket  at  the  crime  scene.
  "Really?"  Rikki  laughed  nervously  again.  "He'll  be pleased.  How  much  is  it  worth,  do  you  think?"  she asked.
"It's  also  about  ?fteen  thousand,"  said  Diane.
"Wow,"  said  Rikki.  "He's  not  going  to  believe  it."
Rikki  sounded  unconvincing  to  Diane,  but  maybe she  was  just  prejudiced.  Diane  glanced  at  David  and saw that he didn't believe her either. What Diane was wondering  now  was  what  it  would  take  for  Rikki  to quit,  to  be  so  afraid  of  being  found  out,  she  would take  off.  Diane  suspected  there  was  a  very  speci?c reason  she  was  sticking  around.
"Well,  it  wasn't  a  robbery,"  said  Izzy,  "that's  for sure."
"No," said Diane. "It doesn't seem to be a robbery."
She   was   wondering   whether   they   all   were   that wealthy,  or  were  they  making  a  lot  of  money.  The mayor alone was decked out in more than twenty thou­ sand dollars' worth of clothes and accessories. The may­ or's  job  didn't  pay  that  much,  but  perhaps  his  Atlanta business  was  doing  really  well.  She  had  a  lot  of  ques­ tions  for  Janice  to  look  into.  She  wondered  whether Janice  had  searched  Peeks'  and  Jefferies'  homes.
"When  are  the  funerals?"  Diane  asked.  They  all shrugged. "It looks like the mayor and his friends had a  lot  to  leave  their  heirs.  It  would  be  interesting  to discover  who  they  are."
The  door  buzzer  startled  all  of  them.  David  went to  answer  it.  After  a  few  moments,  he  brought  Jin back  with  him.
"Hi,  guys,"  Jin  said,  raking  his  ?ngers  through  his black  hair.  "Good  to  see  you  back,  boss,"  he  said.
"Good to be back," she said. "Is this a social call?"
"Nope,   I   just   found   something   interesting.   You know  that  guy  who  wanted  me  to  hire  him?  Curtis something."
"Curtis  Crabtree,"  said  Diane.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "Well, in the scuf?e he left some epithelials behind and  I  decided  to  run  them,"  said  Jin.
"What  did  you  ?nd?"  asked  Neva.
"He  had  alleles  in  common  with  Edgar Peeks,"  said Jin.
"Brothers?"  asked  Diane.
"Cousins  maybe;  maybe  uncle  and  nephew,"  said Jin.
"Did  you  know  they  were  related?"  Diane  asked Rikki.
She  shook  her  head.  "No.  It's  news  to  me."
Chapter 28
"No," said Jin, taking a big bite of pizza. "I'm Legolas. I'm always Legolas. You're Gandalf, David. You're the one who  disappeared for  a while, then came back."
  "All  I  know  is,"  said  Neva,  helping  herself  to  a slice, "that  I'm Arwen, the  most beautiful  creature in Middle-earth."
  Diane listened to them happily discussing their Lord of  the  Rings  character  preferences.  She  had  tried  to get  Frank  on  the  phone  to  tell  him  they  were  having pizza  in  her  of?ce,  but  he  didn't  answer.  Mike  had come  to  join  them  brie?y  but  had  to  leave  early  to get  ready  for  his  class  in  gemology.  Izzy  had  stayed. That  was  somewhat  of  a  puzzlement  to  Diane.  She didn't  know  if  he  was  asked  to  guard  her  or  what. Rikki had gone home. That was a relief to everyone. They  didn't  know  which  side  she  was  on,  and  Diane thought  that,  like  her,  they  felt  uneasy  being  con­ stantly  just  a  little  dishonest  with  her.
"Okay,"  said  Jin.  "Who's  Rikki?"
"Gollum," both Neva and David said together, and they  all  laughed.
Diane  was  about  to  sit  down  and  eat  a  piece  of pizza  when  she  heard  a  noise  in  Andie's  of?ce.  She opened  the  connecting  door  just  as  Andie  was  enter­ ing. She  was all  bundled up in  slacks, a  wool poncho, and  gloves.  She  had  a  cap  pulled  over  her  frizzy  au­ burn  hair.
  "Oh,  I'm  glad  you're  here,"  said  Andie.  "I  have your  cell  phone.  Wait  till  you  see  this."
  "Would  you  like  some  pizza?"  said  Diane.  "We have  plenty."
  "Pizza?  Thanks,  but  I  just  ate."  Andie  took  out  a box  and  opened  it.  "This  is  great."  She  slipped  the phone from the box, ?ipped it open, and turned it on.
"It's  a  camera phone  like  the  old  one  and has  all  the bells  and  whistles  on  it.  But  it  also  has  this."
  She   punched   a   couple   of   keys   and   the   phone started talking.
"Take  a  left  on  Rose  Street,"  it  said.  "Go  point two miles."
Diane  looked  at  the  map  on  the  digital  screen.
"It has GPS mapping," said Andie. "You just punch in  the  city  and  where  you  want  to  go  and  it  will  tell you  how  to  get  there.  Cool,  huh?"
"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Diane.  "This  is  nice.  It  really  is.
How  much  more  a  month  is  this  going  to  cost  me?"
"Just ten dollars," said Andie. "I put all your num­ bers  in  it.  At  least,  the  ones  I  know."
"Thanks,  Andie,  I  appreciate  it.  It's  a  great  phone.
You  off  to  your  gemology  class?"
"Yes, and I hope it's uneventful this time," she said.
"Last time, we were just starting on opals. You know that's my birth stone. Mike was saying they have water in  them.  I  don't  understand  that.  He  was  about  to explain when little Ethan turned up missing. And you know  the  rest."  Andie  looked  at  her  watch.  "Well, gotta  go.  See  you  tomorrow."
Just  as  Andie  was  leaving,  Frank  walked  through the  door.  "I  thought  I'd  catch  you  still  at  work,"  he said.
"Hey,  Frank,"  said  Andie.  "See  you."  She  was  out the door.
"Was  it  something  I  said?"  said  Frank,  watching Andie  leave.
"She's off to learn about gemstones." Diane paused.
"I'm  director  of  the  crime  lab  again."
  "You always have such eventful days," he said. "So, was the crime lab a reward for almost getting killed?"
"No, it was a reward for not being Bryce," she said.
"Because  of  him  the  evidence  is  now  suspect  from  a whole  string  of  crime  scenes  processed  by  the  lab,  and the city's dealing with a multimillion-dollar lawsuit from Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith, the forensic anthropologist he hired.  Did  I  tell  you  I  got  served  on  that?"
"No.  For  what?"
"Witness   for   the   complainant.   You   want   some pizza? We have  plenty. Izzy's here." She  lowered her voice. "He's been here all day. I called him to go with me  to  the  lab  in  case  Bryce  decided  he  wasn't  going to  leave.  Fortunately,  Bryce  wasn't  there.  Anyway, Izzy just stayed. I'm wondering if Edward or the chief of  police  sent  him  as  a  bodyguard."
"That  would  be  good  if  they  did,"  said  Frank.  He followed  her  into  her  of?ce.
David  and  the  others  were  discussing  the  evidence when  Diane  entered.  They  stopped  when  they  saw Frank.
"Hey,  Frank  buddy.  How's  it  going?"  said  Izzy.
"Come  get  a  piece  before  it's  gone.  These  guys  in­ hale  pizza."
They greeted one another and Frank sat down with a  slice  and  a  cold  soda  from  Diane's  fridge.  Diane caught  him  up  on  everything  they  had  discovered  so far.
"I  called  Janice  and  told  her  Curtis  Crabtree  is  re­ lated  to  Edgar  Peeks,"  said  Diane.  "I  don't  know  if that will mean anything. I also told her about the con­ versation  in  the  supply  closet."
"Conversation in the supply closet?" said Neva. She laughed.  "Who  was  Crabtree  talking  to  in  the  supply closet?  And  why?"
"He  and  Bryce  were  talking.  It's  the  conversation you  interrupted,  David,"  she  said.
"How the hell did you know about that?" he asked, laughing. "I saw them go in and I wondered what they were  up  to."
"The  supply  closet  is  next  to  my  lab,  and  the  wall is  thin.  There  wasn't  much  to  the  conversation,  not much  more  than  what  I  learned  from  Jin  and  Izzy.
Apparently  it  was  Crabtree's  job  to  get  employment in  the  DNA  lab.  Now  it  appears  that  it  was  part  of some  master  plan  to  get  the  crime  lab,  the  DNA  lab, and  the  osteology  lab,"  said  Diane.
"What  balls,"  said  Neva.  "I  can't  believe  it.  Did they  really  think  they  could  do  that?"
"They  seemed  to.  What  I  don't  know  is  what  their master  plan  was  supposed  to  lead  to  exactly.  David pointed out that the crime lab would be a great thing to  control  if  you  were  in  the  crime  business-you could  frame  or  free  anyone."
"I'll  say,"  said  Neva.
"I  also  asked  Janice  if  they  had  searched  Peeks' residence. She had, and found nothing that would sug­ gest why they had been killed, nor anything to suggest they  had  been  involved  in  illegal  enterprises.  Peeks did  appear  to  be  living  way  beyond  his  means.  With Jefferies  it's  more  dif?cult  to  tell  because  of  his  busi­ ness  in  Atlanta.  It's  successful  and  might  account  for his  income."
"Could Jefferies have been paying Peeks?" said Jin.
"What  for?"  said  Diane.  "That's  the  thing.  What was the business really? Were they just a new criminal organization  we  haven't  heard  of?  Did  they  deal  in drugs?  What?  It's  scary  to  think  about.  They  get  rid of  a  judge  and  have  a  new  one  appointed  and-"
"Wait?  Get  rid  of  a  judge?"  said  Neva.  "What  are you  saying?"
Diane realized she hadn't told them about the tainted evidence  from  the  murder  scene  of  Judge  McNevin and about David's suspicions. She nodded to him and he  laid  out  all  the  evidence  for  them.
"That's  why  I  quit,"  he  said.
Jin, Neva, and Izzy sat with their mouths open. When David ?nished,  no  one spoke  for several  moments.
"But the mayor doesn't appoint judges," said Neva.
"He  could  in?uence  the  choice,"  said  Izzy.  "He's been  making  cozy  with  the  governor.  If  the  newspa­ pers  can  be  believed,  they  shook  hands  a  lot.  There was  a photo  op  of them  every other  day.  Evie was  in one of them for her work on drugs. She said the gover­ nor  liked  the  young  can-do  attitude  of  Jefferies.  Evie was  put  off  by  him.  Couldn't  put  her  ?nger  on  what she  didn't  like,"  Izzy  said,  proudly  showing  off  his wife's  good  judgment.
  "I   told   Edward   Van   Ross   about   our   suspicions today,"  said  Diane.  "He's  very  disturbed  about  the whole  thing,  as  you  can  imagine.  That's  why  I  think it's important to ?nd out what they are-were-up to and how far it extends. Not only for the sake of Doug­ las  Garnett,  but  for  Rosewood.  And  we  can't  forget that  somebody  killed  them.  Our  most  important  job is  to  ?nd  out  who  and  why."
"Have  you  talked  to  the  former  mayor  yet?"  asked Frank.
"I'm going to try to see him tomorrow," said Diane.
"I  would  like  Neva  and  David  to  search  the  crime scene  at  the  mayor's  house.  Jin,  go  with  them  and analyze  the  blood  evidence.  And  David,  we  need  to ?nd  out  what's  on  Jefferies'  computer."
"Okay,"   said   David.  "It   isn't   going   to  be   easy.
Maybe  Frank  can  help."
"Sure,"  said  Frank.  "You  know  how  I  like  codes."
"Good," said Diane. "There's something else I want to discuss. Bryce and Rikki are looking for something.
I put pressure on her today, especially with the watch business, and virtually  told her she was going  to have to  relearn  the  job,  and  she  didn't  ?inch.  I'm  not  sure why  she's  sticking  around,  except  that  she  must  still be  looking  for something  and  we  are her  best  bet  for ?nding  it."
"What  do  you  think  it  is?"  said  Neva.
"It  has  to  be  something  about  money.  It's  always about  money,  isn't  it?  She  and  Bryce  must  know  we are looking at them for some kind of criminal activity, yet they are not leaving. Bryce is suing the city for his SCATTERED  GRAVES job  back,  according  to  Janice,"  said  Diane.  "Maybe he's innocent, or maybe he's just keeping everyone in the  government  occupied  while  they  also  have  Jenni­ fer's  lawsuit  to  deal  with."
  "If  there's  something  in  the  mayor's  house  to  ?nd, we'll  ?nd  it,  boss,"  said  Jin.
  "Neva,  try  making  nice  to  Rikki.  I  want  to  know what  she  pocketed  at  the  crime  scene."
  "You think she'll tell me?" said Neva. "She'll know what  I'm  up  to."
"Maybe,  but  she  might  let  something  slip,"  said Diane.  "Who  knows."
"Okay, I'll be as nice as pie to her." Neva wrinkled her  nose.
"Tell  me  this,"  said  Izzy.  "If  those  watches  are  as valuable  as  you  say  and  they  don't  make  very  many of them, wouldn't the company keep a record of who they  sold  them  to?  Wouldn't  there  be  some  kind  of serial number, like a VIN for a car? Maybe Neva can ?nd   out   the   number   to   little   Gollum's   watch.   Or maybe  there's  some  kind  of  receipt  in  the  mayor's house-if she stole it from him. If she's stealing, that'll give  you  something  to  bargain  with.  Maybe  we  can get  her  to  talk."
Diane looked over at Izzy and raised her eyebrows.
"You're   absolutely   right   on   all   counts,"   she   said.
"We'll  look  into  that  tomorrow."
"I could do that," said Izzy. "I've worked burglary."
"Okay,"  said  Diane,  nodding.
"So, where are we now?" said David. "What do we think  happened  at  the  house?"
"Well, I think Bryce and Rikki were right about how it  went down," said Diane. "Someone  came up  behind the mayor  and shot him  in  the back of the  head."
"He  probably  knew  his  attacker  and  didn't  expect anything,"  said  Neva.  "And  the  shooter  didn't  steal anything.  It  was  a  hit."
"Yes," said Diane. "It was a hit. Both murders look basically  the same  to  me. Same  MO.  Doesn't have  to 	Beverly  Connor be  an  outsider.  The  shooter  could  be  someone  that Jefferies  and  company  were  in  business  with ...  and we  don't  even  know  about  them  yet."
  "What  about  ballistics?"  said  Frank.  "How  do  you explain the fact that the bullet that killed Peeks came from  Garnett's  gun?"
  "That's one we have to work on," said Diane. "And we  need  to  know  if  the  gun  that  ?red  the  bullet  that killed  Peeks  is  the  same  gun  that  killed  Jefferies."
"I  can't  believe  that  Garnett  did  it,"  said  Izzy.
"Nor  I,"  said  Neva.
"Me  either,"  said  Diane.  "But  we  have  to  put  our personal  beliefs  aside  and  ?nd  the  best  evidence  we can  to  lead  us  to  the  killer  or  killers."
"How  about  the  other  security  tapes?"  said  Neva.
"We  need  to  look  at  all  of  them  to  see  who's  been visiting the mayor over the last month. God, that will be  boring.  You  can  do  that,  Jin."  She  laughed  and punched him on the shoulder. "Or should I say Lego­ las?  You  can  use  some  of  your  el?n  magic  and  get  it done  quickly."
"We have a lot to do tomorrow, so I'm going home to  get  some  rest,"  said  Diane.
Her  face  was aching  and  her  arm was  sore.  In  fact, she  was  tired  and  aching  all  over.  Sleep  would  ?x everything,  and  tomorrow  maybe  they  would  ?nd  a solution. Diane told David to lock up. Izzy stayed with the others. He  seemed to be having a  good time. She imagined  he  hadn't  had  one  in  quite  a  while.
She  followed  Frank  home  in  her  SUV.  A  time  or two she thought she was being followed. But when she slowed down to see if she could get a look, whoever it was  turned  off.  Just  being  paranoid,  she  thought.  She pushed  on  the  accelerator  and  caught  up  with  Frank's Camaro.
Chapter 29
In the previous Rosewood City administration, mayor Walter  Sutton  and  Police  Chief  Buford  Monroe  had arranged  for  the  crime  lab  to  be  housed  in  the  mu­ seum and for Diane to run it. Mayor Sutton and Diane had  gotten  off  to  a  very  shaky  start  when  the  mayor tried  to  talk  her  into  selling  the  museum  property-a deal that could have brought him and his friends a lot of  money.  The  mayor's  tactics  in  trying  to  persuade her  had  bordered  on  threats.
  Vanessa had told Diane that Sutton was devastated at  losing  the  mayoral  election  to  Spence  Jefferies.  It had  crossed  Diane's  mind  several  times  that  Sutton was among those who had a  motive for killing Jeffer­ ies.  But  in  all  honesty,  she  couldn't  imagine  Sutton doing  it or  even  hiring  someone to  do  it. Then  again, if  he  had  learned  what  Jefferies  did  to  win  the  elec­ tion,  he  would  have  at  least  thought  about  it.  Of course,  her  feelings  were  colored  by  the  fact  that  she really didn't like Sutton and hadn't voted for him-or for  Jefferies  either.  She  had  ?lled  in  the  write-in  spot on  the  ballot  with  the  name  of  someone  who  wasn't even running-ironically, Edward Van Ross. Odd how things  turn  out  sometimes,  she  thought  as  she  drove up  to  Sutton's  house.
Now  she  would  have  to  act  like  nothing  had  ever happened  between  them.  Not  hard.  She  had  been doing that very thing ever since the crime lab opened its  doors.
  Sutton  lived  with  his  family  in  a  house  that  was  a white-columned  Greek  revival  on  the  outside  but  a more  modern  ?oor  plan  inside.  It  had  a  great  room, a sunken living room, and a deck on the back. Not as large  as  Jefferies'  house,  it  was  still  a  mansion.  She had been there for a party a time or two with Vanessa and  had  thought  it  an  unusual  combination  of  styles and not a particularly good layout for people who like to  give  parties.
  Diane  parked  her  SUV  in  the  drive,  picked  up  the folder   off   the   seat,   walked   up   to   the   house,   and knocked. The  door was answered  almost immediately by  a  young  woman  in  her  mid-twenties.
  "Hi. I'm Loraine Sutton. I believe we've met at one of my parents' parties. So nice seeing you again," she said,  smiling.
  It  must  have  been  a  rote  thing  she  said  to  people, for  she  didn't  really  notice  Diane's  face  until  she  got to  the end  of her  greeting. Then  she showed  the jaw- dropping, startled look that Diane was getting used to. Diane  had  tried  to  make  herself  look  less  bruised, but  she  hadn't  gotten  any  better  at  applying  makeup this morning than she was the previous days. She had given  up  and  left  it  off,  deciding  she  would  just  have to  forgo  trying  to  look  like  nothing  had  happened. Loraine Sutton was Walter Sutton's daughter. Diane knew  she  graduated  from  the  University  of  Georgia. Other than that, she didn't know very much about her except  that  she  and  her  brother  were  always  very  ac­ tive  in  their  father's  campaign.  Diane  didn't  know  if Loraine  had  a  job  other  than  that  of  cheerleader  for her  father.  She  had  dark  brown  hair  and  dark  eyes like  her  mother,  and  sharp  facial  features  like  her  fa­ ther. Her best feature was her skin. It was creamy and blemish free. Her eyes were a little too close together and  her  nose  a  little  too  pointed  for  her  to  be  called beautiful,  but  she  had  an  interesting  face  and  a  nice smile.  She  wore  a  rust-colored  pullover  sweater  and matching  wool  slacks.
"I'm  very  happy  to  see  you  again,"  said  Diane.
  "The  family's  in  the  living  room.  We're  all  anxious to  hear  what  you've  come  about.  It  sounded  rather cryptic."
"I know," said Diane. "It's one of those things that is hard to explain brie?y over the phone. It's very kind of  all  of  you  to  see  me."
Loraine  led  her  to  the  sunken  living  room,  just  to the  right  of  the  entryway.  It  was  a  cozy  room  with lots  of  fabric-layered  oriental  rugs,  drapes,  wall  tap­ estries,   upholstered   chairs   and   sofas   of   jacquard, leather,  and  various  ?oral  designs,  all  in  hues  of  dark red, brown, green, and gold. There was either a parlor palm or a schef?era at each window. The coffee table was dark walnut with a black marble top adorned with fresh  ?owers.  The  marble  ?replace  had  a  painting  of a  horse  over  the  mantel.
The mayor and his son, Albert, rose to greet Diane as  she  entered  the  room.  The  son  was  like  a  young clone  of  his  dad-tall,  lean,  sharp  featured.  The  for­ mer mayor had steel gray hair, whereas the son's hair was  blond.  Diane  thought  its  color  probably  came from  a  bottle  and  it  was  a  little  too  stylish  to  look natural.  Walter  Sutton's  wife,  Eleanor,  came  in  from another  door  carrying  a  tray  of  coffee  and  cookies.
She  was  also  a  slim  woman.  She  was  dressed  in  a peach pantsuit and wore her dark hair up in a French twist. It was a family who could make a good portrait together.  Just  what  a  politician  needed.  Eleanor  Sut­ ton  stopped  for  just  a  moment  when  she  saw  Diane's face.  They  all  did.  She  slowly  lowered  the  tray  onto the  coffee  table.  Diane  was  glad  she  didn't  drop  it.
"We're sorry to stare," said the elder Sutton, recov­ ering  ?rst.  "We  were  just  startled.  Were  you  in  an accident?"
"Did   you   hear   in   the   news   about   Harve   Dela­ more?"
They  had.  Diane  tried  to  give  as  short  an  explana­ tion  as  she  could  of  what  had  happened.  But  like everyone   else,   they   had   questions.   She   answered them  all.
  "That  is  just  terrible,"  said  Eleanor.  "What  pos­ sessed  the  man?  Being  demoted  in  rank  is  hardly  the end  of  the  world."
"He  evidently  had  problems,"  said  Diane.
"That's   an   understatement,"   said   Loraine.   She helped  her  mother  serve  the  coffee.
Whenever  Diane  visited,  she  always  drank  her  cof­ fee  black  because  it  was  just  so  much  easier.  She  felt uncomfortable  visiting  and  eating  at  the  same  time unless it  was at  a dinner party  and she  had a table  in front  of  her.  She  took  a  cookie  offered  her,  put  it  on the saucer, and sipped her coffee. Not bad, but not as good as the coffee she made. Mrs. Sutton sat down on the arm of her husband's chair, sans coffee or cookies.
Diane  started  to  turn  the  conversation  to  why  she had  come.
"There  are  a  couple  of  things  I  wanted  to  talk  with you about," she said. "I'm sure you're keeping up with what's  been  going on in Rosewood-the murders."
"Terrible, terrible thing," said Walter Sutton. "I had no  love  for  the  man,  but  this  is  just  terrible.  Peeks too."  He  shook  his  head  as  if  it  were  just  too  much to  contemplate.
"There  are  some  things  you  need  to  know  about the  election,"  began  Diane.
She was hoping that in giving them information, she would  encourage them  to be  more willing  to give  her information in return. Sutton would not readily admit if  he  had  tried  to  dig  up  dirt  on  Jefferies.
"What  kind  of  things?"  asked  Walter  Sutton.
Diane  opened  the  folder.
"You know that during the election a lot was made of the rash of burglaries that occurred during the latter part  of  your  administration,"  she  said.
"Don't  I  though.  It  was  really  bad  luck  for  me.  I don't  believe  for  a  minute  that  anything  Jefferies  did brought  the  rate  down,"  he  said.
Diane  leaned  forward.  "You'd  be  wrong."
Sutton looked startled for a moment but said nothing.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "A  man  in  my  crime  scene  unit  has  an  eye  for data,"  continued  Diane.  "The  crime  rate,  particularly burglaries, bothered him. So he started collecting data from  police  and  court  records.  One  of  the  things  he discovered  is  that,  though  the  number  of  burglaries went down after Jefferies came into of?ce, the number of  arrests  for  burglaries  did  not  go  up."
  Walter  Sutton  frowned.  The  others  looked  puzzled for  a  moment.
"What  are  you  saying?"  whispered  Loraine.
"I'm  saying  that  it  is  quite  possible  the  mayor  and his close supporters were behind the surge in burglaries.
That he conceived and directed them as part of a strat­ egy to make you look bad and get him elected," Diane said.  "These  are  maps-"
"That  son  of  a  bitch.  That  son  of  a  bitch."  Walter Sutton's face was ?ushed with anger. He lunged to his feet,  paced  a  couple  of  steps,  and  turned  on  his  heel.
"I   knew   something   was   not   right.   Didn't   I?"   He looked at his family. "I told you something just wasn't right  about  Jefferies."
Albert  reached  for  the  maps.  "What  are  these?"  he asked.
"David, my assistant director, mapped out the areas in the city where the surge in burglaries occurred. No­ tice  the  neighborhoods,"  said  Diane.
Loraine  leaned  over  to  look.  After  a  moment  she said,  "The  heaviest  voters."
"And  if  you  look  at  the  individual  homes,"  said Diane,  "you  will  ?nd  that  the  victims  are  all  leaders in  their  communities.  They  go  to  church  and  belong to  organizations."
"To make a big problem seem bigger," said Albert.
He  shook  his  head.  "It's  hard  to  believe  someone could  be  so . . .  so  conniving."
It's  worse  than  that,  thought  Diane.  When  she  dis­ cussed  her  plan  with  Frank  and  David,  it  was  agreed she  should  tell  Sutton  only  about  the  burglaries,  not of   their   suspicions   regarding   the   murder   of   Judge 	Beverly  Connor McNevin. Politicians are not known for their ability to keep  a  secret  if  knowledge  of  it  makes  them  look good.
  "After the election," Diane said, "instances of bur­ glaries  in  these  areas  dropped  back  to  normal.  Many stolen items were recovered. But no perpetrators were arrested  and  tried.  This  is  just  raw  data,  but  it's  very suggestive."
"I'll  say,"  said  Albert.
"I thought you ought to know about it," said Diane.
Walter  Sutton  sat  down  again.  "I'm  sorry  the  SOB is  dead  and  I  can't  get  my  hands  on  him,"  he  said.
His  wife  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.
"Spence  Jefferies  put  a  black  cloud  over  many  of us  who  served  in  your  administration,"  said  Diane.
"You,  the  commissioner,  the  chief  of  police,  me- and  Garnett."
"It  is  just  terrible  about  Garnett,"  said  Sutton.
Diane  noticed  that  he  was  noncommittal  about  his support  for  his  former  chief  of  detectives.
"Garnett stayed on the force to help out the depart­ ment,"  said  Diane.  "Peeks  was  shifting  duties  and people around and making a lot of decisions that were not  in  the  best  interests  of  the  rank-and-?le  police of?cers.  And  you  know  about  the  bulletproof  vests."
"The  state-of-the-art  body  armor,"  said  Sutton  sar­ castically.  "I  saw  the  picture  in  the  newspaper  of  Jef­ feries  holding  them  up."
"Those  were  the  only  two  state-of-the-art  vests  he purchased.  The  ones  he  gave  the  police  of?cers  were long out of date and wouldn't stop rubber bullets, ac­ cording  to  the  testimony  of  of?cers  on  the  force," said  Diane.
"That  wicked  man,"  said  Eleanor.
Diane  could  see  they  were  all  wondering  why  she really  had  come.  They  were  politically  savvy  people and  knew  there  was  something  now  they  would  be asked  to  give  in  return  for  this  information.  Diane took  another  deep  breath.
Chapter 30
"I don't know if you are aware, but Edward Van Ross placed  me  back  in  charge  of  the  crime  lab."
  Diane didn't want to go into details about Bryce. It would   sound   too   triumphant,   and   she   didn't   want that-even  though  she  did  feel  it,  just  a  little.  She mentally  chastised  herself.  Nor  did  she  want  to  give away  too  much  information  that  had  to  remain  con?­ dential.
  "I  had  heard,"  said  Sutton,  "and  was  glad  to  hear Edward  is  putting  things  right.  You  know  I  worked hard  to  get  just  the  right  people  in  positions.  People who are quali?ed. I know the victor gets to make the changes  that  suit  him,  but  the  men  he  hired  had  no background  in  police  work."
  Diane  nodded  in  agreement.  Be  agreeable,  she  told herself.  "The  detectives  are  trying  to  ?nd  out  who killed  Jefferies  and  Peeks,"  she  said.  "They  are  also trying  to  learn  what  Jefferies  and  his  friends  were  in­ volved  in.  And  we  all  want  to  clear  Garnett.  I  don't believe  that  he  suddenly  became  a  mass  murderer."
"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Sutton.
"My  people  are  going  over  the  crime  scenes  again.
And  frankly,  we  are  all  playing  catch-up.  I'm  hoping your staff collected information on Jefferies and maybe even  his  associates.  We  need  a  head  start  in  this," said  Diane.
"Well,  you  know  I  always  run  a  clean  campaign.  I told  Loraine  that  I  didn't  want  any  dirt  dug  up.  Just pertinent  information,"  said  Sutton.
  Loraine  was  nodding  her  head.  "It  was  my  job  to do  research.  Maybe  if  I'd  done  it  better . .  ."
  "It has been my experience that Jefferies was really good  at  hiding  things,"  said  Diane.
  "Who  knew  he  would  pull  things  like  this?"  Her brother  gestured  at  Diane's  maps.
  "You  probably  know,"  began  Sutton,  "that  Spence Jefferies  was  from  Atlanta.  His  mother  was,  at  any rate.  He  was  a  military  brat  for  a  while.  His  mother and  father  divorced,  and  the  mother  moved  him  to Atlanta.  You  know  he  went  to  a  good  school,  one  of the  ivy  league  schools."
"Pennsylvania?"  said  Diane.
This  was  just  the  initial  dance.  He  was  telling  her ordinary background information to show her that was his  focus.  But  Diane  had  no  doubt  he  would  get  to the  meatier  information  after  the  dance  was  over.
"That's  it-Penn  State."
Diane  didn't  correct  him.  And  neither  did  his  chil­ dren, she noticed, though their faces said they noticed the  error.
"Good   business   school.   The   others,   Peeks   and Bryce,  went  there  too.  They  were  just  his  campaign workers  then.  I  had  no  idea  he  would  reward  them with  such  high  positions.  No  matter  how  good  the business  school  is,  it  didn't  prepare  them  for  work  in law  enforcement."
He   shook  his   head.   "Loraine   headed   up   my   re­ search." He smiled at his daughter. The dance was over.
"I  knew  there  was  something  about  Jefferies . . .	 his  eyes,"  Loraine  said.  "I  didn't  like  him,  and  not because  he  was  running  against  Dad."
"He  did  have  that  shark-eyed  look,"  said  Diane, hoping to encourage Loraine. She could see there was a  reluctance  to  say  anything  bad  about  him  right  off the  bat.  Diane  wanted  to  tell  them  to  get  on  with  it, that  she  didn't  have  all  day.  Instead  she  smiled  and took  a  sip  of  coffee  and  a  bite  of  the  sugar  cookie.
  "That  was  it-like  a  shark.  Cold  and  dark,"  she said,  giving  her  body  a  small  shake.
"Did   you   ?nd   out   anything   in   your   research?" asked Diane.
"I  thought  I  had.  I  was  really  concerned  that  Dad not  look  like  he  was  digging  for  dirt.  We  don't  do that.  I  mainly  tried  to  ?nd  out  about  a  candidate's positions  on  issues.  It's  not easy  if  they've  never  held of?ce, but we-the volunteers who were working with me-happened  upon  something  that  was  suspicious.  I told Dad I needed to follow up on this, and I did. But maybe  I  didn't  go  deep  enough."
"What  were  you  concerned  about?"  asked  Diane.
"I was afraid he was abusing young people in some way,"  she  said.
"Abusing  how?"  prompted  Diane.
"It  was  Buckley  who  ?rst  noticed  something.  You remember  Buckley  Kramer,  Dad."
Her  father  nodded.  Her  mother  murmured  that  he was  a  nice  boy.
"He was in Atlanta at a new restaurant. He saw Jef­ feries  there  with  three  young  boys-I  guess  I  should call  them  men-but  they  were  high  school  and  college age,  Buckley  said.  They  weren't  as  well  dressed  as Jefferies. But they were young people; it's hard to tell if  they  are  poor  dressers  or  just  in  style."
She  stopped  to  take  a drink  of  coffee.  Diane  imag­ ined  it  was  cold  by  now.  It  must  have  been,  because she  set  the  cup  and  saucer  down  on  the  coffee  table.
"Jefferies was giving them gifts," she said. "Buckley couldn't   see   what   kind   of   gifts,   exactly,   but   they looked  like  watches."  Diane  raised  her  eyebrows  a fraction.
"I  know  that's  certainly  not  incriminating  behav­ ior,"  continued  Loraine,  "but  Buckley  said  there  was something about it that was creepy to him. Not all the kids  looked  happy."
Loraine  called  them  kids,  but  it  sounded  like  some of them were adults-young adults, but adults just the same.  Still . . .	
"What  did  you  make  of  it?"  said  Diane.
"Nothing, at ?rst. But we spoke with someone from his  campaign  who  had  quit.  He  said  the  mayor  and his friends  gave him the  creeps. It looks  like Jefferies gave  everyone  the  creeps.  I  can't  understand  how  he got  elected.  Sometimes  I  think  people  deserve  the leaders  they  vote  in."  Her  voice  was  vehement.
Diane  could  see  that  the  election  defeat  had  stung her  too-and  was  still  stinging.
"Now,  Loraine,"  said  her  father.  "He  pulled  the wool over everyone's eyes. Look at how the governor took  to  Jefferies.  You  know  people  don't  deserve  to suffer  for  making  bad  choices;  let's  just  hope  they learn  from  them."
He  may have  been  gently  chiding his  daughter,  but Diane  could  see  he  was  feeling  the  same  thing  she had felt-vindication. She felt a bit ashamed of herself for  it.
"Did  the  campaign  worker  tell  you  anything  use­ ful?"  said  Diane.
"Not at ?rst. But then he told us he'd noticed Peeks was  spending  a  lot  of  time  talking  to  kids  in  chat rooms.  He  didn't  know  about  what  or  which  chat rooms. He only got a glance or two over his shoulder, but  he  read  enough  of  the  screen  to  see  that  Peeks was  buttering  up  someone  who  was  obviously  much younger  than  he  was."
"What   did   he   do   with   the   information?"   asked Diane.
"There's the problem," said Loraine. "Nothing. He quit  a  few  weeks  later  when  he  was  verbally  repri­ manded  rather  harshly  by  Bryce  for  a  mistake  he made  in  a  mailing.  We  thought  the  guy  might  be  just a  disgruntled  volunteer.  It  happens  in  all  campaigns.
Some  people  think  because  they  are  volunteers  they don't  have  to  abide  by  a  work  ethic."
"Where  is  he  now?  Will  he  talk  to  me?"  asked Diane.
"He's  a  manager  at  Wal-Mart.  And,  yes,  Mother,  I go  to Wal-Mart  sometimes. I  like their  craft section."
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  She  smiled  at  her  mother,  who,  Diane  gathered, wouldn't  be  caught  dead  in  a  discount  department store.
  "Buckley  and  I  got  together  to  talk  about  what  to do. The problem was, we really didn't have any infor­ mation.  Just  vague  suspicions  about  something  that could  be  very  innocent.  Then  Buckley  remembered about  Jefferies'  business  in  Atlanta.  We  knew  they made  commercials-they  would  have  ?lm  equipment. It occurred to us that he might be into, well, into porn with these kids. I know it was a stretch. But could we take  a  chance?"
  "Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs. Sutton.  "Tell  me  you  didn't investigate  that?"
  "Well,  yes,  Mother,  we  did.  That  is,  Buckley  did. He said, being the candidate's daughter, I should stay out  of  it."
"Well,  thank  heaven  for  that,"  said  her  mother.
"Buckley  knew  someone  who  was  having  a  com­ mercial  made  by  Jefferies'  company.  He  went  with them  a  couple  of  times  and  nosed  around.  Jefferies wasn't  there.  He  has . . .  had  someone  else  run  his business  for  him.  Buckley  couldn't  ?nd  anything  that suggested any kind of illegal activity at all. We thought it  was  a  dead  end.  But  Buckley  wouldn't  let  it  go."
Diane  didn't  quite  see  how  they  arrived  at  the  no­ tion  that  Jefferies  was  making  porn  from  that  scant evidence.  It  sounded  to  her  like  the  beginnings  of  a smear  campaign  that  Sutton's  people  had  hoped  to start.  His  supporters  were  known  for  planting  mali­ cious innuendos about political opponents, turning the most innocent things into something suspicious. Sutton himself  had  even  helped  spread  rumors  about  Diane when  she  wouldn't  agree  to  move  the  museum  and sell  the  property.  It  was  their  bad  luck  that  Jefferies was  better  at  vicious  campaigning  than  they  were.
"What did Buckley do?" said Diane. Her body was starting  to  ache  from  sitting  in  one  position  for  so long.  She  was  more  sore  than  she  thought  she  would be.
	Beverly  Connor Loraine looked at her father. "You know how loyal Buckley  is,"  she  said.
"Oh,  Lord,  what  did  he  do?"  said  her  father.
Loraine   turned   to   Diane.   "Dad's   volunteers   are very  loyal  to  him.  They  know  they  are  working  for someone  who  has  Rosewood's  best  interests  at  heart and  they  want  to  see  him  elected."
"I  take  it  Buckley  was  at  the  forefront  of  loyalty," said  Diane,  smiling.
"He was. He followed one or the other of Jefferies or  Peeks.  He  didn't  stalk  them  or  anything,  but  he'd follow  them  as  they  were  leaving  their  headquarters, and  if  they  didn't  go  home,  he'd  keep  following.  He wasn't really routine about it. Just when he had time.
About the third time, he saw Peeks meeting with some kids.  Two  boys  and  a  girl  this  time.  He  wrote  down the license plate of their car. He found out who owned it  and  went  to  see  him.  The  kid  wouldn't  talk  with him  at  ?rst  except  to  say  that  he  met  Peeks  at  a  job fair  on  campus.  Buckley  contacted  the  campus.  You know  you  have  to  sign  up  to  be  at  the  job  fair.  We knew  Peeks  worked  for  a  recruitment  agency  in  At­ lanta  and  we  did  ?nd  out  that  he  placed  several  col­ lege  students  in  jobs.  They  were  legitimate  jobs.  We checked-phone   company,   banks,   insurance   of?ces, government   agencies-all   good   jobs   at   legitimate places.  We  were  at  a  dead  end  and  decided  to  let  it go. Then several days later the kid with the car called and  told  Buckley  he  wanted  to  meet  with  him."
"What did he want?" asked Diane, leaning forward.
"Don't  know.  The  kid  didn't  show  and  he  wouldn't answer Buckley's calls. Buckley went over to his house, but  he  wouldn't  answer  the  door.  That  was  it."
"What do you think that was about?" asked Diane.
Loraine  shrugged.  "Who  knows?  He  was  unreliable.
He was one of those kids who, well, he dressed in rag­ ged  jeans,  had  a  ring  in  his  nose.  Somehow  you  don't expect  that  from  Asian  kids,  but  there  you  are."  Lo­ raine stopped and looked at Diane. "Are you all right?"
Chapter 31
Diane  must  have  gone  pale,  but  there  it  was-Asian, nose  ring,  teenager.  They  all  were  staring  at  her.  She put  a  hand  to  her  cheek  and  gently  rubbed  it.  "My face is hurting a little bit. It does that. I'm ?ne, really."
"Honestly,  a  man  who  would  hit  a  woman,"  said Mrs. Sutton. "And he called himself a policeman. May I  get  you  some  ice?"
"I'll be all right. It's probably just healing twinges."
Diane  smiled  at  them  and  changed  position  in  her chair.  "Do  you  know  the  kid's  name?"  she  asked.
"No,  but  I  can  ?nd  out.  Just  a  minute.  I'll  call Buckley."
"An address and phone number for him would help a  lot,"  said  Diane.
Loraine stood up and went into an adjoining room.
Diane  heard  her  calling  and  asking  for  the  name.
There was a long silence. Diane imagined he was get­ ting  the  information.  They  didn't  talk  long,  but  from what  Diane  heard,  she  guessed  they  probably  had dated.  May  still  be  dating.  There  was  a  friendly  play­ fulness   to   her   voice   usually   reserved   for   someone close.  Loraine  didn't  tell  Buckley  what  it  was  about.
Diane was grateful for that, but she had a feeling Lo­ raine  might  call  him  back  when  she  left.
"Count  on  Buckley  for  keeping  good  notes,"  Lo­ raine  said,  coming  back  into  the  room.
She gave Diane an index card containing two names.
One  had  an  address  and  phone  number  in  Atlanta. The  other  had  a  local  phone  number.
"Malcolm  Chen  is  the  kid.  Sid  Larkin  is  the  man­ ager  at  Wal-Mart,"  said  Loraine.
"Thank you," said Diane, taking the card and pock­ eting  it.  "This  will  be  a  big  help.  I  appreciate  all  of you speaking with me. And thank you for the refresh­ ments.  I  appreciate  your  hospitality."
"Glad  to  help,"  said  Sutton.  "I'm  always  glad  to help."
They  all  rose  as  Diane  stood.  She  was  relieved  to be  leaving.  She  was  starting  to  feel  smothered  by  a room  with  so  much  fabric.
"Are  you  going  to  be  all  right  to  drive  back?" asked  Sutton.
"I'll be ?ne. I'm mostly just sore," she assured him.
"I'm  glad  Edward  has  taken  the  helm,"  he  said.
"He's  a  good  man."
"He  is,"  Diane  agreed,  edging  toward  the  door.
Sutton  cleared  his  throat.  "Tell  me,  do  you  think he  will  run  for  mayor  in  the  special  election?"
Ah, thought Diane, ?shing for information about an­ other  potential  rival.
"He hasn't said anything to me, but I've always had the impression that if Edward were elected mayor, the ?rst  thing  he  would  do  is  demand  a  recount."
Their  laughter  was  far  heartier  than  the  joke  war­ ranted.  Diane  suspected  it  was  mainly  relief.  There was  no  way  that  Walter  Sutton  could  defeat  Edward Van  Ross  in  an  election.
"Please  come  by  again,"  said  Mrs. Sutton.
"Thank  you,"  said  Diane.
Diane ?nally made it out the door and felt a distinct relief as it closed behind her. She climbed in her SUV and  drove  to  Spence  Jefferies'  house.
At   the   entryway   she   pulled   coveralls   over   her clothes  and  donned  shoe  and  hair  covers.
Whereas  Mayor Sutton's  house had  been all  fabric, tapestries, and deep colors, Mayor Jefferies' house was white  marble  and  dark  wood.  Paintings  of  war  and conquest were in abundance, all in classical Greek and Roman  style,  mounted  in  simple  metal  frames.  There was the bust of Alexander the Great. And in the cen­ ter  of  the  dining  room  table  was  a  sculpture  of  Bu­ cephalus,  Alexander's  horse.
He was like a kid, thought Diane, pretending to be a  great  conqueror.
"Hey,  boss.  I  thought  I  heard  someone  come  in."
Jin  met  her  in  the  hallway.
She knew they would have processed the foyer ?rst and  would  have  made  a  safe  walkway  through  the house-a  trail  that  had  been  scrutinized  for  all  the evidence  they  could  discover.
"How  are  things  going  here?"  she  asked.
"Real   good.   David   found   something   interesting.
He'll  tell  you  about  it.  Actually  we  could  have  found it  in  the  lab,  but  we  just  now  got  to  taking  a  closer look  at  the  pictures."
"That  sounds  intriguing,"  said  Diane.  "Anything else?"
"Gee,  boss,  you  expect  a  lot."  Jin  grinned.  "I've mapped  the  blood  pattern  and  taken  lots  of  samples.
I  was  just  getting  ready  to  go  back  to  the  lab.  I checked the rest of the house for blood. I found some in  the  guest  bathroom  sink  on  this  ?oor.  There's  a guest  room  back  in  the  corner  off  the  living  room.
Anyway,  I  think  the  shooter got  a  little  spray  on  him and he  washed up.  The last team  in here  didn't think to  check  all  the  bathrooms  for  blood."  Jin  sounded cocky  on  the  last  comment.
"That's  why  we're  here,"  said  Diane.  "I  knew  you would  be  thorough.  Think  maybe  the  shooter  was hoping  the  guest  bathroom  would  be  skipped?"
Jin  nodded.  "That's  what I  think.  There's  a  divider in front of the door, so it's kind of hidden-in a way."
"You  have  any  luck  with  Sutton?"  said  Jin.
"Yes. Quite a bit. I'll tell all of you about it later," she  said.
"Sure  thing,  boss.  We've  done  the  downstairs,  so you  can  walk  freely.  The  front  stairs  are  done  and they  have  half  the  second  ?oor  done.  The  others  are up  there  now.  They're  teaching  Rikki  about  search patterns.  Izzy's  in  the  study  going  through  the  books. He  wanted to  help,  so  David set  him  to work  there."
"What  is  Izzy  doing  here?"  asked  Diane.
"He   just   showed   up.  I   thought  you   told   him  to come," said  Jin.
"No.  I  suppose  the  chief  of  police  sent  him,"  said Diane.   "How   is   Rikki   doing?"   she   asked   as   she walked  back  to  the  front  door  with  Jin.
He took off his coveralls and removed the covering on  his  shoes  and  head  and  put  them  in  a  disposable bag  from  his  crime  scene  kit.
"Complaining.   But   she's   doing   what   David   and Neva  tell  her."  He  lowered  his  voice.  "Has  anyone really  looked  at  her  educational  background?  I  can't believe she had a minor in biology but has no concept of  scienti?c  method-and  I  can't  believe  she's  ever had  a  course  in  criminology."
"You  know,  I  haven't  checked.  We  need  to  do that."  Diane  shook  her  head.  "My  brain's  not  work­ ing,"  she  said.
"Probably  from  being  hit  on  the  head,"  said  Jin.
"Thanks."
"Sure,  boss.  See  you  back  at  the  lab."
He started for his car, then suddenly turned around.
"I'm  glad  to  have  you  back  in  charge  of  the  crime lab," he said. "We all are, especially David. This guy"- Jin  gestured  at  the  Jefferies'  house-"he  knocked  the world  off  its  axis  for  a  lot  of  people.  You're  going  to make  it  right  again."  Jin  turned  and  went  to  his  car.
Righting  the  world.  Diane  wished  she  could.  She feared  that  her  people  expected  more  from  her  than she   could   deliver.   She   closed   the   front   door   and turned  her  attention  back  to  the  crime  scene.
Jefferies'  study  and  library  was  just  to  the  left  of the foyer. It had been labeled as a parlor on her ?oor plan.  The  door  was  half  closed.  She  opened  it  and went  in.  Izzy,  dressed  in  the  coverings  they  wore  to protect  the  crime  scene  from  contamination,  sat  at  a library  table  looking  through  books.  He  looked  quite different  in  a  shower  cap.
  Unlike  the  rest  of  the  house,  the  study  was  mainly wood. The bookcases, paneling, desk, and library table were  all  rich  brown  colors  of  various  kinds  of  woods buffed to a high sheen. The glass doors to the banker's bookshelves  were  raised  and  slid  back  into  the  case. The  shelves  were  empty.  Most  of  the  books  were stacked on the ?oor, table, and desk. She remembered it being like this when she was here before with Colin Prehoda-when   they   had   discovered   Edgar   Peeks' body  with  Garnett  standing  over  it.
  "Hi," Izzy said. "David put me to work down here among  the  books."
"I'm  surprised  to  see  you,"  said  Diane.
"Janice is working with another partner on this now.
This  has  priority  in  the  department,  so  I'm  helping."
Diane  noticed  that  his  answer  was  a  tad  carefully worded  for  Izzy.  He  never  really  said  who  sent  him.
Curious.
"We're looking for some kind of list that Bryce and Rikki  thought  Jefferies  had,"  he  said.
Diane nodded. "It's what Pendleton said they were looking  for.  I  have  no  idea  what  kind  of  list  or  what it  looks  like."
"Anybody  asked  Rikki?"  he  said.
"Not  yet,"  said  Diane.  "We  will  later."
"She  went  through  the  books,  too,"  said  Izzy.  He pointed to scraps of paper littering the ?oor. "There's bookmarks,  envelopes,  pieces  of  paper.  I  think  what Rikki  did  was  shake  everything to  see  what  fell  out."
"It seems that way, doesn't it?" said Diane, looking at  the  papers.  She  picked  up  a  torn  envelope  and  ex­ amined it. There was only half of Jefferies' address on it.  The  return  address  had  been  on  the  other  half.
Apparently  he  tore  it  for  a  quick  bookmark.
"I've  been  ?ipping  through  the  books,"  said  Izzy.
"I was thinking that if there is some list, he may have written it inside a book on one of them blank pages."
"That's  a  good  idea,"  agreed  Diane.  And  a  lot  of 	Beverly  Connor work, she thought. But she didn't know any other way to  go  through  them  except  one  by  one.
  "Lot of books here," said Izzy. "You think he read all  these?"
  Diane picked one up: Aristotle's Poetics. She looked at the spine and at the  edges of the pages. "No one's read  this  one."  She  looked  at  the  title  page.  From Rebecca with  love. Diane wondered  if that was  a girl­ friend. She examined a couple more: a biography of- who  else?-Alexander  the  Great,  and  Sun  Tzu's  The Art of War, both signed by A. Houten To my favorite student. Both had bent spines and pages that had been turned.  "Somebody  read  these."
"Lot  of  different  kinds  of  books  here,"  said  Izzy.
"I  don't  read  much.  Mainly  the  sports  pages  of  the newspaper.   Evie   reads   sometimes.   Daniel   was   the reader in our house. Sometimes I pick up a book he's read and I read a page or two just to have something in  my  mind  that  was  in  his."  He  sighed  and  looked around  at  the  books.  "A  lot  of  people's  thoughts  in here."
"Yes,  there  are."  She  noticed  that  Jefferies  had leather-bound  copies  of  the  Hundred  Greatest  Books, history  books,  a  lot  of  books  on  war,  biographies-a fairly  wide  variety.
"I  thumbed  through  something  by  Shakespeare," said  Izzy.  "Hamlet,  I  think.  Saw  several  phrases  I'd heard  before."
"Shakespeare is one of the most quoted of writers," said  Diane.  She  pulled  a  chair  out  and  sat  down.
" 'To  be  or  not  to  be'-you  hear  that  one  a  lot.
What does it mean exactly?" said Izzy, opening a vol­ ume  of  Hamlet  and  pointing  to  a  soliloquy.
"Hamlet's life isn't going well, and he's contemplat­ ing  suicide,"  said  Diane.
"I  kind  of  thought  that,"  he  said.
She  took  the  book  and  looked  at  the  passage.
"He's  wondering  if  it  is  better  to  struggle  on  and 'suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' or to end  them and sleep.  Sleep means death,"  she said.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"But he worries that if he kills himself, what happens after  that  might  be  worse-'for  in  the  sleep  of  death what  dreams  may  come.' "
Izzy was silent for a moment. "I can relate to that," he  said.
"That's  one  of  the  reasons  Shakespeare  is  so  often quoted. He hit upon truths people can relate to today just  as  they  did  in  his  time,"  said  Diane.
Izzy  Wallace  was  the  last  person  she  thought  she would  ever  be  discussing  Shakespeare  with.
"You  and  me's  suffered  the  slings  and  arrows  of outrageous  fortune,  haven't  we?"  he  said.
"There's  no  greater  suffering  to  be  had  than  losing a  child,"  said  Diane.
"No.  There's  not,"  he  said.  "That  is  for  sure."
It  was  an  unexpected  con?dence  from  Izzy,  and Diane  didn't  know  where  to  go  with  it.
"Did  you  ever  think  about  it?"  he  said.
Diane  knew  what  he  meant.  She  wasn't  sure  how to  answer.
"I  never  wanted  to  die.  I  just  wanted  to  stop  hurt­ ing,"  she  said.
Izzy  nodded  his  head.  "I  hear  you  there."
Diane  looked  up  to  see  David  in  the  doorway.  He had  several  photographs  in  his  hand.
"Hey,  Diane.  Did  Izzy  tell  you  what  we  found  in the  photographs?"  he  asked.
"No.  We  were  discussing  Shakespeare,"  she  said.
David looked from one to the other. "Oh," he said, as  if  that  didn't  quite  compute.
Diane  smiled.  "What  did  you  ?nd?"
"Something  that's  rather  curious,"  he  said.  "It's  a small  thing.  I'm  not  sure  what  to  make  of  it."
Chapter 32
David  came  into  the  room  and  pulled  out  one  of  the chairs at the library table. Izzy moved a stack of books and  put  them  on  the  ?oor.  Diane  noticed  that  Izzy had one of the notebooks they keep in the crime scene kits and was writing down all the names of the books. She  wasn't  sure  that  was  necessary,  but  she  wasn't going  to  tell  him  to  stop  at  this  point.  He  looked  to be  almost  ?nished.
  David  sat  down  by  Diane  and  put  three  photo­ graphs  on  the  table  in  front  of  her.  They  showed  dif­ ferent  angles  of  Jefferies'  body  lying  in  the  kitchen. David  tapped  Jefferies'  arm  in  one  of  the  photo­ graphs  with  his  ?nger.
  "We  hadn't  noticed  it  before  and  it  wasn't  men­ tioned  in  his  autopsy  report,  but  his  watch  was  on upside  down.  If  he  looked  at  it,  the  six  would  be  at the top. He may have absentmindedly done it himself and just hadn't noticed, but I have a gut feeling it may have been put on his wrist after he was shot. For what reason I can't fathom. Jin is going to check it for blood spatters. If there aren't any, then there's a good possi­ bility  it  wasn't  on  his  wrist  when  he  was  shot."
"The ME didn't notice it when he undressed him?" asked  Diane.
"If  he  did,  he  didn't  see  ?t  to  mention  it,"  said David.
"Watches  keep  coming  up,"  said  Diane  almost  to herself.
  "We haven't found receipts  for any of the watches, but Izzy's tracked down the serial number on the one we  have,"  said  David.
  Izzy smiled and took a small notebook from his shirt pocket  with  a  ?ourish  of  his  arm.  "It  was  purchased at  Erinette  Jewelers  in  Atlanta  right  before  the  elec­ tions," said Izzy. "He bought this watch." Izzy pointed to  the  photograph.  "And  he  also  bought  three  wom­ en's Carter . . . Cartier diamond watches-all Tank. I can't  pronounce  it.  F-R-A-N-C-A-I-S-E,"  he  spelled out.   "And   ten   men's   watches-three   Chase-Durer Fighter  Command  watches,  and  seven  TAG  Heuer sports watches. I have the price here and all the serial numbers  in  case  we  run  across  a  nest  of  expensive watches. And I mean expensive. Most of the cars I've owned  didn't  cost  as  much  as  one  of  these  babies.  I don't get it. They tell time. My ?fty-dollar watch keeps perfect time. Of course it ain't got diamonds, but some of these don't either," he added. "What was he doing with  them,  you  think?"
  "Gifts,"  said  Diane.  "When  you  ?nish  here,  we'll debrief  in  my  museum  of?ce,"  said  Diane.
"You found out something, didn't you?" said David.
"Yes, I think so. I don't want to talk about it here," she  said.  "Have  you  noticed  anything ...  unusual with  Rikki?"
"After we searched the master bedroom, she showed a lot of interest in coming down and helping Izzy sort through all these books," he said. "Mainly, she's inter­ ested  in  how  I'm  going  to  decrypt  the  mayor's  com­ puter.  By  the  way,  Frank's  working  on  it  today.  He said  he  has  to  be  in  Rosewood  anyway.  I  told  him  to use your museum  of?ce. I hope that's okay,"  he said.
"That's ?ne. You think the two of you can get into the  computer?"  asked  Diane.
"Depends."  He  shrugged.  "We'll  see."
"We've   checked   all   the   artwork,   lamps,   cereal boxes,  everything  we  could  think  of  for  hidden  com­ partments,"   said   David.   "Nothing."   He   grinned.
"Neva  found  a  Bic  lighter  in  the  back  of  a  drawer.
You   should   have   seen   Rikki's   eyes   light   up.   She thought  it  was  a  ?ash  drive.  I  think  she's  de?nitely waiting  for  us  to  ?nd  whatever  it  is  they  are  looking for."
  "Let's  hope  we  don't  disappoint  her."  Diane  stood up.  "I  need  to  get  back  to  the  museum."
  "Jin's found some good blood transfer," said David, rising  from  his  chair.  "Did  you  see  him  when  you came  in?"
"Yes.  He  told  me  about  the  guest  bathroom,"  said Diane.
"Did  he tell  you  about  the stain  under  the chest  in the  foyer?"  said  David,  pointing  to  the  doorway.
"No,  I  guess  he  was  saving  it.  What  did  he  ?nd?" she  asked.
"We  moved  the  chest  to  look  under  it  because  it was  so  close  to  Peeks'  body.  We  found  blood  smears with  a  faint  pattern  in  the  middle  of  them,  almost parallel lines. Don't know what it means. We're going to  see  if  we  can  ?nd  an  image  when  we  get  back  to the  lab,"  he  said.
"Good work, guys," said Diane. "Seriously. You're doing  very  good  work."  Diane  had  to  admit  it  felt good  to  be  back  in  charge  of  the  crime  lab  again.
"Hi,  Andie,"  said  Diane  as  she  entered  her  of?ce.
"How  was  your  gemology  class?"
Andie was changing the ink cartridge in her printer.
Today   she   was   dressed   in   a   black   jumper,   white sweater,  and  patent  leather  Mary  Janes.  She  looked up  from  her  task  and  grinned  broadly.  Diane  noticed that  she  was  working  on  the  museum's  newsletter.
"Great.   Barb   McConnel   was  back.   Ethan   didn't come.  His  father  stayed  home  with  him.  She  seemed to be having a good time. Did you know you can't let opals  dry  out  or  freeze?  It's  the  water  thing,  which  I still  don't  understand.  I  mean,  water's  wet.  Anyway, Sheriff  Can?eld  came  by  and  left  you  a  package.  He said  he  didn't  want  to  take  it  to  the  crime  lab,  even though  you  are  back  in  charge.  Which  he  was  real glad about. He knew Rikki was still working there and didn't  know  if  Bryce  might  pop  back  in.  Is  he  really suing  the  city?"
Diane  took  the  package  from  her.  "Who,  Bryce  or Can?eld?"  asked  Diane.
Andie  grinned.  "Bryce,"  she  said.
"I've  heard  that  he  is,"  said  Diane.
"Well,  he  won't  win,"  said  Andie.
"Probably not," she said. "You doing the newsletter this  time?"
"Yeah.  I've  been  getting  a  lot  of  calls  on  what  the dress  code  is  for  'white  tie.'  So  I'm  putting  it  in  the newsletter,"  she  said.
Diane  smiled.  "Excellent  idea,  Andie.  Good  think­ ing."
"I think there's going to be a lot of tiaras and prom dresses at the event. But I don't think tiaras are worn much anymore," said Andie, "except to proms." Diane agreed. "Though I've been looking at white-tie events on  the  Internet,  and  this  woman  is  wearing  a  tiara that's more like a crown." Andie ?ipped views on her computer  and  pointed  to  a  picture  on  the  screen.
"Andie,  that's  the  queen  of  England,"  said  Diane.
"Oh." Andie squinted at the picture. "I think I need glasses.  I  thought  it  was  the  president's  mother."
"I'll  be  in  my  of?ce,"  said  Diane.  She  walked  past Andie's desk and opened the door that separated their of?ces.  "I'll  be  here  for  a  while  if  you  need  me."
"Frank's  here,"  said  Andie.  "With  a  computer.  He said  you'd  know  what  it  is."
"I  do,"  she  said.  "Thanks."
She  took  the  package  in  and  sat  down  behind  her desk.  No  one  trusts  the  crime  lab,  she  thought,  not David  or  Frank.  Not  even  me.  David  told  Frank  to work in Diane's of?ce. She told her crew to meet her here  instead  of  at  the  lab.  Establishing  con?dence again in the crime lab was going to be her top priority when  this  was  over.
The box was wrapped in brown paper and tied with jute.  It  had  her  name  on  it  and  the  address  of  the 	Beverly  Connor museum.  The  return  address  was  the  Rose  County Sheriff's  Of?ce.  She  cut  the  jute  and  tore  off  the paper.
  There  was  a  note  taped  to  the  top  of  a  cardboard box about half the size of a shoe box. It was from the sheriff  saying  they  hadn't  found  anything  more  after a  sweep  of  the  area,  except  for  a  bullet,  which  was sent  to  the  GBI  ballistics  lab.  Can?eld  wasn't  even trusting  Rosewood  ballistics.  She  couldn't  blame  him. Losing  those  bones  was  a  major  blunder.  The  note also  had  a  PS:  I'm  glad  to  see  you  back  at  the  crime lab.
  She took the lid off and pulled away cotton batting. Four  pieces  of  bone  lay  on  another  layer  of  cotton batting. She donned a pair of gloves. One of the bones was  a  front  portion  of  a  maxilla  with  a  tooth  still  im­ bedded  in  it-an  incisor.  The  other  bone  fragments consisted  of  a  broken  piece  from  the  spinous  process of a vertebrae, a piece of coracoid bone from the scap­ ula,  and  the  second  cuneiform  of  the  left  foot.  The most  helpful  was  the  incisor.  The  root  of  the  tooth would   be   a   good   place   to   ?nd   usable   DNA.   She turned  it  over  in  her  hand  and  saw  that  it  was  a shovel-tooth  incisor-most  common  in  Asian  popula­ tions.  The  hunch  she  had  at  the  Sutton  house  was looking  stronger.  There  was  nothing  so  far  to  rule  it out. She repacked the bones, removed her gloves, and walked  into  her  sitting  room.
Frank  had  the  computer  on  her  table  and  was  ap­ parently  taking  it  apart.
"David  told  me  you'd  be  working  here,"  she  said.
"Why  are  you  dismantling  the  computer?"
"I'm  not.  I've  just  taken  the  case  off  the  CPU," he  said.
"Why?"  she  asked.
"Sometimes  people  write  their  encryption  key  in­ side  the  computer  case,  in  the  event  they  forget  it.
But I've been over every inch with a magnifying glass and  I  haven't  found  one."
"How  about  a  black  light?"  said  Diane.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "That  was  going  to  be  my  next  step.  You  wouldn't happen  to  have  a  black  light  in  your  pocket,  would you?" He winked at her and turned up one corner of his  lips.
  She  grinned.  "We  have  lots  of  black  lights  all  over the  building."
  She  called  Andie  and  asked  her  to  go  up  to  the conservation lab and borrow a black light from Korey, her  head  conservator.
"Andie  will  be  down  with  one  in  just  a  minute," said  Diane.
Diane  sat  down  at  a  small  writing  desk  in  the  cor­ ner. She had the box of  bones with her. She punched the  sheriff's  number  into  her  cell  and  asked  for  him when  the  receptionist  answered.  It  took  a  couple  of minutes  to  get  him  on  the  line.
"Hey,  Diane.  I  guess  you  got  the  package  I  sent you,"  he  said.
"Yes,  I  did,  and  I  have  a  name  and  address  for you  to check."  She ?shed  the paper  from her  pocket.
"Malcolm  Chen,"  she  said,  and  gave  the  sheriff  the Atlanta  address.  There  was  silence  on  the  other  end of  the  phone  for  several  long  moments.
"Hello?  Are  we  still  connected?"  she  asked.
"You  know,  I've  been  telling  people  you're  good, but  I  had  no  idea.  How  in  the  world  did  you  identify him  from  that  paltry  handful  of  bones?"  he  said.
Diane laughed. "I'd love to say my skills are-" She paused  as  she  caught  sight  of  Frank  looking  at  her strangely.  "Just  a  moment,"  she  said  and  put  a  hand over  the  phone.
"What?"  she  asked.
"Malcolm  Chen  is  a  hacker,"  he  said.
Chapter 33
"You  know  him?"  said  Diane.  "You  know  Malcolm Chen?"
"I  know  the  name,"  said  Frank.  "He's  on  a  list  of hackers  I  have.  He's  also  known  as  Shogun."
"Interesting,"  said  Diane.
Diane  got  back  on  the  phone  with  the  sheriff.
"Sheriff  Can?eld,  Frank  is  here  and  he  recognized the name. He says he may be a hacker called Shogun.
Chen  is  Asian,  he  has  a  nose  ring,  and  he  is  young.
He  ?ts  the  description  of  the  kid  in  the  ?eld,  and  I have  to  tell  you,  this  may  not  be  him,  but  it's  a  lead.
I've  found  nothing  yet  that  would  rule  him  out,  but that's  not  the  same  as  a  positive  ID,  by  any  means.
And  you  know  what  little  I've  had  to  work  with.  I'm hoping Jin will be able to extract DNA from the tooth.
He's  come  up  empty  on  the  earlier  samples."
"I'm going to call the Atlanta police right now and ask them to go to Chen's apartment. I tell you, Diane, I'm  real  impressed."
"Don't  be  too  impressed.  I  was  lucky  to  stumble onto something," she said. "I'll tell you about it later.
Let  me  know  what  the  Atlanta  police  say."
"I  will,"  said  the  sheriff.
"Ask  them  to  collect  samples  for  DNA  compari­ son,"  said  Diane.  "Toothbrush  and  hairbrush  would be  real  good,"  said  Diane.
"I'll  do  that,"  said  the  sheriff.
Diane hung up the phone and looked over at Frank.
"A  hacker?"  she  said.
"I've  been  looking  at  the  usual  suspects  following this rash of identity thefts, and the names were on my mind,"  he  said.  "How  did  you  come  by  his  name?"
Diane went over  to the couch and sat  down. There was  a  stack  of  crime  scene  photos  David  had  printed for  her  to  examine,  photographs  that  Rikki  took  be­ fore  she  dismantled  the  mayor's  house  in  her  search.
She   didn't   answer   Frank.   An   idea   was   ?itting through  her  mind  and  she  wanted  to  follow  through ?rst.  She  picked  up  the  stack  of  photographs.  He watched  her  curiously,  not  pushing  for  an  answer.
Andie  came  in  with  a  black  light.
"Okay,  who  gets  it?"  she  said.
"Frank,"  said  Diane  without  looking  up  from  the photographs.
Andie  handed  the  black  light  to  Frank  and  left.
Diane  ?ipped  through  the  photographs,  pulling  out the ones from the library and laying them faceup, side by  side  on  the  table,  looking  closely  at  each  one.
"Well,  hell,"  said  Frank.
"What?"  said  Diane,  looking  up.
"Look  at  this,"  he  said.
Diane rose, went over to the table, and peered into the  computer  case.  Under  the  black  light,  in  neat block letters were the words You won't ?nd what you are  looking  for  here.
"What   the-?"   began   Diane.   "What   does   that mean?"
"It means this is going to be harder to decipher than I  thought."
The door opened and Izzy walked in with his note­ book  under  his  arm.
"Hi,  Diane,  Frank.  I  can  tell  you  right  here  and now  that  there  is  no  list  in  that  library.  Not  even  a grocery  list."
"It's  probably  in  the  machine,  then,"  said  Diane.
"Mind  if  I  have  a  drink?"  said  Izzy.
"Sure,"  said  Diane.  "In  the  little  fridge."
"Can I get anyone else one?" he asked. "The others will be here shortly. They're checking things into your evidence  locker."
"You  can  bring  me  a  green  tea,"  said  Diane.
Izzy got a Coke and gave Diane a bottle of green tea.
"Those  any  good?"  he  asked.  He  sat  down  on  one of  the  couches,  still  clutching  his  notebook.
"I  like  them,"  said  Diane.
She  looked  up  at  him.  She  had  been  wondering about  Izzy.  It  had  even  crossed  her  mind  brie?y  that he  might  be  hanging  around  to  ?nd  the  list  himself, in  case  it  led  to  a  lot  of  money.  She  wondered  why he  didn't  go  back  to  his  job  at  the  police  station.  It wasn't  because  he  was  guarding  her,  obviously.
"Izzy,  don't  get  me  wrong-you  are  doing  a  great job-but  just  why  are  you  here?  Did  the  chief  of  po­ lice  send  you?"
Izzy  and  Frank  brie?y  exchanged  glances  as  Frank sat  down  next  to  the  computer.
"Well,  it's  like  this.  Evie's  got  her  antidrug  thing going and it's helping her through losing Daniel. She's making  a  difference,  and  that  means  something.  Me, I  work  at  a  desk  job.  I'm  just  marking  time.  And  my retirement  ain't  for  many  years  yet.  The  stuff  you  do here  catches  people-like  the  people  responsible  for killing  Daniel.  I  need  to  do  something  that  makes  a difference.  And  you  guys  laugh.  I  ain't  laughed  in  a long time.  I was  thinking that since  Jin is  now mostly in  the  DNA  lab,  and  I  don't  think  you're  going  to keep li'l Gollum on after this is over, maybe you could ask the chief to assign me here. They have lots of guys approaching  retirement  who  can  work  the  desk."
Diane was shocked. She had no idea that was what was  on  Izzy's  mind.  When  she  didn't  say  anything, he  continued.
"I'll  never  make  detective  in  the  department.  I've known  that  for  years.  But  I  have  a  lot  to  offer  as  an investigator here. I have a lot of experience and I can learn  the  forensics."
  "We don't do investigations; we collect crime scene evidence,"  said  Diane.
  Izzy  smiled.  "The  hell  you  don't.  The  biggest  com­ plaint the detectives in the squad have with you is you tend sometimes to take over an investigation," he said. Diane's jaw dropped. She hardly knew what to say. She  looked  over  at  Frank,  but  he  was  busy  studying his  shoes.  She  looked  back  at  Izzy.
"Is  that  true?"  she  asked.
"Yeah.  This  time  we  asked  you  to,  but  we  don't always  do  that,"  he  said,  laughing.
Diane  stared  at  him  a  moment,  thinking  about  the proposition.  There  would  be  an  advantage  to  having one of the old boys on her crew. And Izzy was doing a  good  job.  Of  course  he  wasn't  doing  any  collection of  ?ngerprints  or  blood  spatters,  any  trace  evidence.
But  he  had  come  up  with  good  ideas.
She  looked  at  Frank  again.  Apparently  he'd  found out all he could about his shoes because he looked at her  and  smiled.
"I'm not against the idea," she said. "Let me think about  it.  There  would  be  a  lot  of  bene?ts  to  both  of us.  I  can  see  that."
"That's  great,"  Izzy  said,  grinning.  "Thanks."
"I  didn't  say  yes,"  she  said.
"But  you  didn't  say  no.  Now,  it's  clear  to  me  that no  means  no,  but  you  didn't  say  that."
"I said maybe," she said. "I said I'll think about it."
"That's  closer  to  a  yes than  to  a  no,"  he  said.  "So, Frankie, buddy. Did you ?nd anything on the machine?"
Frank  laughed  and  showed  him  the  message  under the  black  light.
"Well, I'll be damned. What do you make of that?" he  asked.
"Looks like the work of another hacker on my list," said  Frank.  "I  don't  know  his  real  name;  we  haven't found  out  his  identity  yet.  But  he  goes  by  the  nick­ name  Black  Light."
"Really?"  said  Diane  looking  up  from  the  photo­ graphs  she  was  examining.  She  went  to  the  table  and 	Beverly  Connor picked  up  the  magnifying  glass  that  Frank  was  using and  inspected  one  of  the  pictures  from  the  mayor's library  with  it.  "You  don't  think  it  was  this  Shogun fellow  who  encrypted  the  computer,  then?"
"Shogun?  Now  I've  missed  something,"  said  Izzy.
"Jefferies had a  book in his library called  that. There was  a  bunch  of  them  by  Clavell."
"Not  that  Shogun,"  said  Diane.
"I missed something too," said Frank. "Why do you think  Malcolm  Chen  is  connected  to  this  case?  By  the way, you never did tell me how you came by the name."
Diane  used  the  magnifying  glass  and  looked  at  a photograph  of  the  library  bookcase.
"Jefferies had all the works of Dickens on one shelf in  alphabetical  order  by  title.  But  one  is  missing."
"Izzy,  would  you  hand  me  your  list  of  books?" she  said.
He  handed  her  the  notebook  containing  the  list  in Jefferies'  library.  He  had  abbreviated  the  titles,  but she  thought  she  could  decipher  it  easily  enough.
"Are   you   going   to   withhold   the   information?" said  Frank.
"Do you want to discuss withholding information?" she  asked.
"No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  said.
"It's  not  on  here,"  said  Diane,  tapping  her  ?nger on  the  list.
"I  got  the  names  of  all  the  books.  I'm  sure  of  it," said  Izzy.
"I'm  counting  on  it,"  said  Diane.
"What's  not  there?"  said  Frank  and  Izzy  together.
She  handed  them  the  photograph  and  magnifying glass.  "This  picture  was  taken  before  Rikki  took  the books  out  of  the  shelves.  Look  at  the  Dickens  shelf.
There's  a  book  missing  between  Nicholas  Nickleby and  Our  Mutual  Friend,"  she  said.
"And  that  would  be . . .  ,"  said  Frank.
Diane  saw  him  going  over  the  titles  and  repeating them  to  himself.
"Oliver  Twist,"  said  Frank.  "It's  not  on  the  shelf."
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"It's  not  in  Izzy's  notes  either."
  Izzy took the notebook from her and ran his ?nger down  the  list.  "Not  here,"  he  said.
  "The  book  was  taken  by  someone-assuming  the crew  brought  you  all  the  books  they  found  in  the house,"  said  Diane.
"They  did,"  he  said.
"If there really was a list, I think that's where Jeffer­ ies  would  have  put  it.  He  was  into  books-actually, he was into a fantasy life. He had sculptures and paint­ ings  of  Alexander  the  Great  all  over  the  house."
"He  had  four  biographies  of  him,"  said  Izzy.
"Jefferies  liked  to  see  himself  as  bigger  than  life, like  characters  in  his  books.  If  he  had  a  hard  copy  of a list with some connection to his real business, I think it makes sense that he would hide it in Oliver Twist."
"Why?" said Izzy. "I hate to admit it, but I've never read Oliver Twist. Or seen the movie-or the musical.
Evie  wanted  to  go,  but  I  couldn't  imagine  sitting  in the Fox Theater through  a Broadway musical. Wish I had  now."
Diane  told  the  two  of  them  what  she  had  learned from  Loraine  Sutton  about  Jefferies  and  Peeks  meet­ ing  with  young  people  fresh  out  of  high  school  and college, about getting them jobs in banking, insurance, and  government  agencies,  and  giving  them  expensive watches.  About  the  boy  who  almost  came  forward- the  boy  who  matched  the  description  she  had  built out of the bones from the ?eld Arlen Wilson plowed.
"Jefferies  ran  cybergangs,"  said  Frank.
Chapter 34
"I  think  your  case  and  mine  just  came  crashing  to­ gether,"  said  Frank.
"You  believe  it's  the  same  people?"  said  Diane.
"I'm  having  an  upsurge  in  identity  thefts  and  you have someone who might be running a cybergang," said Frank. "It may turn out that Malcolm Chen is alive and hacking his little heart out in his apartment and Jefferies was doing something completely different with his time, but  with  what  we  suspect  right  now,  it's  looking  very much  like  they  are related. It bears  looking into."
"What's  with  Oliver  Twist?"  asked  Izzy.
"Oliver Twist was an orphan who fell in with a gang of  young  thieves  run  by  a  bad  guy,"  said  Diane.
"Oh,  well,  that  ?ts,"  said  Izzy.  "But  what's  cyber­ gangs?  Never  heard  of  them  before."
"That's  more  Frank's  domain,"  said  Diane.
Diane  heard  a  commotion  coming  through  Andie's of?ce. It was her team. Her team. That sounded good.
They  were  doing  their  usual  bickering.
"We  just  had  pizza,"  said  Neva.
"You  can  never  have  too  much  pizza,"  said  Jin.
"It's  essential  food."
"You  can  have  too  much  pizza,"  said  David.  "You might  want  to  ask  the  rest  of  us  before  you  just  go pick  up  food  for  all  of  us."
Diane  smelled  the  aroma  of  pizza  coming  through the  door.  Jin  was  carrying  three  large  boxes.
  "Hi," said Neva when she saw Diane. "We ?nished the  house."
"You  didn't  happen  to  ?nd  a  copy  of  Oliver  Twist in  any  of  the  rooms?"  said  Diane.
"We  gave  all  the  books  we  found  to  Izzy,"  Neva said.  "Why?"
Neva  went  to  Diane's  small  refrigerator  and  began getting  drinks  out.
"Diane  ?gured  out  that's  where  the  list  was,"  said Izzy.
The  three  of  them  stopped  and  looked  at  Diane.
"Really?" said David. "Well, you could have saved us  a  lot  of  time."
"The  pizza  smells  really  good,"  said  Izzy.
Neva brought several drinks over and handed them out.  She  raised  her  eyebrows  at  Izzy  and  gave  him  a nod.  Izzy  nodded  back  and  smiled.  They  were  all  in on  it,  thought  Diane.  Apparently  Izzy  had  discussed his  idea  with  all  of  them.
"So,  why  Oliver  Twist?"  asked  David.
"It  was  missing  on  the  shelf,"  said  Izzy.
"Couldn't  it  have  been  loaned  out?"  said  David.
"I  don't  think  Jefferies  loaned  books,"  said  Diane.
"He  liked  them  and  he  wanted  to  keep  them-even the  ones  he  didn't  read."
"How  could  you  know  that?"  said  David.
"Just  a  feeling,"  said  Diane.
"We  need  more,"  said  David.  He  had  a  puzzled frown  on  his  face,  as  if  Diane  was  suddenly  about  to trade  in  her  microscopes  for  a  Ouija  board.
"There's more," said Diane, smiling. "We'll have to eat  on  the  coffee  table.  The  computer's  on  the  big table  and  it  looks  like  it  is  going  to  stay  there  for a  while."
"Any  luck?"  said  David.  He  walked  over  to  the computer  and  pulled  up  a  chair.
"Depends  on  what  you  mean  by  luck,"  said  Frank.
He took the black light and showed David the message.
"Bit  of  a  smart  aleck,"  said  David.
  "What?"  asked  Jin.  He  and  Neva  came  over  and looked  inside  the  computer  case.
"What  do  you  make  of  that?"  said  Neva.
"Let's eat the pizza before it gets cold," said Diane.
"I'll  tell  you  while  you  eat."
Diane got napkins from a cabinet and they all gath­ ered  around  the  coffee  table,  grabbing  slices  of  pizza as  Diane  began  her  story.
"It started in the ?eld that Arlen Wilson was plow­ ing. He found some pieces of bones, told Sheriff Can- ?eld,  and  brought  them  to  me.  I  examined  the  bone fragments-which  looked  like  they  had  gone  through a  wood  chipper.  They  were  possibly  from  a  male  in his  late  teens  or  early  twenties  who  might  have  worn jewelry  or  a  body  piercing.  When  I  told  Can?eld  the bones  were  human,  he  had  the  ?eld  searched,  and more pieces of bone were found along with black hair.
This  second  set  of  bones  and  accompanying  evidence were  the  ones  that  disappeared  from  the  crime  lab under Bryce's watch. After they disappeared, the sher­ iff  went  back  to  the  ?eld  one  more  time  and  found  a few  more pieces  and brought  them to  me. One  was a maxilla  with  an  incisor-a  shovel-tooth  incisor."
"I  have  shovel-tooth  incisors.  Want  to  see?"  said Jin.
"Not  with  your  mouth  full  of  pizza,"  said  Neva.
"Jeez,  Jin,  it's  bad  enough  that  we  have  to  eat  pizza two  days  in  a  row  without  seeing  it  in  your  mouth."
"I'll  swallow,"  said  Jin.
"That's all right. We all know what they look like," said  Neva.
"I  don't,"  said  Izzy.
"I'll  show  you  one  later,"  said  Diane.  "The  point is, they're very common among Asians. Not nearly as common  among  other  ethnic  groups."
Diane  took  a  bite  of  her  pizza  before  it  got  com­ pletely cold and washed it down with a sip of Dr Pep­ per.  They  all  watched  her,  waiting  for  the  rest  of  her story.
"In the meantime," she continued, "David was hav­ ing suspicions about the mayor and the people around him.  He  came  up  with  credible  evidence  suggesting not  only  that  Jefferies  may  have  been  responsible  for the surge in burglaries that cost the former mayor the election,  but  that  he  may  have  been  responsible  for the murder of Judge McNevin and then framed some­ one  else  for  it.  Then  Edgar  Peeks  was  killed  at  the mayor's   house   and   we   discovered   that   Bryce   and Rikki  may have  been  looking  for some  kind  of list  at the  scene  of  the  crime.  It  also  came  to  our  attention that  the  mayor  was  trying  to  bring  the  crime  lab,  the DNA lab, and the osteology lab under his control. We suspected  that  the  mayor  and  his  friends  were  in­ volved  in  something  criminal  but  didn't  know  what. Are  you  with  me  so  far?"  she  said.
"Gotcha,"  said  Jin,  grabbing  another  slice. The  others  nodded.
  "I  went  to  see  former  mayor  Sutton  today  and  we had a talk. This is what his daughter told me." Diane explained  about  Loraine's  friend  Buckley  seeing  the mayor having dinner with the young people and giving them  watches.  "One  of  the  kids  wanted  to  talk  with Buckley.  They  set  up  a  meeting,  but  the  kid  didn't show  and  couldn't  be  contacted.  Buckley  described him  as  young-late  teens,  early  twenties-Asian,  and with  a  body-piercing  ring  in  his  nose."
  "Oh," said Neva. "Well, that's similar to the bones you  described."
  "Yes," said Diane. "And the last time Buckley saw the young man, whose name was Malcolm Chen, cor­ responds  roughly  to  the  time  I  estimate  the  bones were deposited in the ground. However, keep in mind, all of this is a thin thread supported by mostly circum­ stantial  evidence.  I'm  only  about  eighty  percent  sure of  the  sex  of  the  bones-and  a  set  of  characteristics is  not  by  any  means  an  identi?cation."
"If  you  have  a  tooth,"  said  Jin,  "there's  a  good chance  I  can  get  DNA  from  the  root."
"I'm  hoping,"  said  Diane.
"So  what  do  you  think  is  going  on?"  said  Neva.
	Beverly  Connor   "When I was telling the sheriff to look into a person named  Malcolm Chen,  Frank  recognized  the name  as one  he  has  on  a  list  of  hackers."
  "Okay, the plot thickens," said David. "So the late mayor  had  himself  a  cybergang."
  "That's  what  Frank  said.  What  is  that  exactly?" asked Izzy. "I know hardly nothing about computers." Diane gestured to Frank. He ?nished his last bite of pizza, wiped his hands on a napkin, and took a drink.
  "There are several types of cybergangs, from loosely organized  groups  of  friends  who  hack  because  they can, to well-organized networks of people who commit crimes  using  computers.  The  money  they  make  with identity  theft,  stealing  ?nancial  and  proprietary  infor­ mation,  and  laundering  money  is  in  the  billions-it's now  more  lucrative  than  illegal  drugs,"  said  Frank. Izzy  whistled.
"Wow,"  said  Neva.  "Wow."  She  shook  her  head.
"Wow."
"What's  with  the  watches?"  asked  Izzy.
"It's  like  gang  tattoos,  or  colors,"  said  Frank.  "A way  to  increase  the  tribal  feeling  of  the  members.  It lets  them  know  if  they  continue  to  work  they  are  in for  riches."
"I'd  think  the  kids  they're  recruiting  would  prefer iPods,"  said  Izzy.
"With  electronics,  you  have  to  update  them  in  a year.  They're  a  commodity,  temporary.  The  watches are a symbol of the long term and of wealth. At least I think that's what Jefferies had in mind," Frank said.
"It's like those identical signet rings worn by Jefferies and  Peeks-and  Bryce,"  said  Diane.  "De?nes  them  as a group." Diane explained to Frank about the identical rings  bearing  the  image  of  Alexander  the  Great.
Frank laughed. "Tribal leaders get to wear different markings,"  he  said.  "It  ?ts  the  pro?le  of  a  lot  of  gang culture."
"So,"  said  David.  "We've  never  really  speculated on  the  content  of  this  mysterious  list.  I  was  thinking SCATTERED  GRAVES offshore  bank  account  numbers.  But  it  could  be  the names  of  the  cybergang  members."
"Could  be  more  than  one  list,"  said  Frank.
"I'll  bet  Jefferies  was  the  only  person  who  knew what was on the list, or lists," said David. "Or maybe Jefferies and his top two lieutenants. And now all the people  who  knew  are  dead."
"The   murderer   could   be   anybody,"   said   Neva.
"Leaders of a rival organization, members of his own organization,  Bryce,  Rikki,  Curtis  Crabtree."
"I think it's time we tell Janice Warrick to sit Rikki and  Bryce  down  and  get  serious,"  said  Diane.
"You might want to give Janice the information and see  how  she  wants  to  handle  it,"  said  Izzy,  smiling.
"Yes,"  said  Diane.  "That's  what  I  meant."
Chapter 35
Diane  went  to  her  of?ce  to  call  Janice  Warrick  while the others  ?nished off the  remainder of the  pizza. Ja­ nice took a while to come to the phone. Diane played with   a   rock   that   had   come   loose   from   her   desk fountain-pushing it back into place and taking it out again.  She  looked  at  her  re?ection  in  the  blade  of  a letter  opener,  hoping  that  somehow  the  bruising  on her  face  had  vanished.  It  had  not.
  When  Janice  answered,  Diane  related  the  entire chain  of  events  and  linking  suppositions  again.  It  was helpful to keep going over it. It showed up any weak­ ness  in  the  logic  and  what  needed  to  be  dealt  with. There  were  a  lot  of  ifs  connecting  the  links  in  the chain.
  Diane   wasn't   sure   how   Janice   felt   about   Frank knowing  so  much,  but  there  wasn't  much  she  could do  about  it.  They'd  asked  Diane  to  look  into  things on  the  sly  when  she  was  just  a  private  person.  She couldn't  undo  the  resources  she  had  used  before  she became  the  director  of  the  crime  lab  again.
"This  is  a  lot  to  take  in,"  Janice  said.
"And  most  of  it  may  or  may  not  be  true,"  said Diane.
"It  sounds  good,  though.  It  all  ?ts,  doesn't  it?"  Ja­ nice  said.
"It  does,"  said  Diane.  But  sometimes  that's  a  trap, getting seduced by the nice ?t. "Jin will try to get DNA from the tooth. Sheriff Can?eld asked the Atlanta PD to  go  by  Malcolm  Chen's  apartment.  If  Chen  is  miss­ ing,  they  will  try  to  ?nd  some  samples  to  test  for DNA-a  toothbrush,  hairbrush,  that  kind  of  thing. Maybe  we  can  ?nd  some  ?rm  connections  for  you  to deal  with."
  Diane  noticed  that  all  the  sharing  was  going  one way.  Janice  was  not  giving  any  information  from  her end  of  the  investigation-which  was  as  it  should  be, but it reminded her of what Izzy had said. The detec­ tives had a problem with her butting into an investiga­ tion.  As  she  thought  back,  most  of  the  ones  she  had been  heavily  involved  in  were  ones  where  the  perpe­ trator  had  involved  her  by  coming  after  her,  or  the FBI had asked her to get involved. She had never just up  and  announced  that  she  was  going  to  take  on  a case  and  they  could  all  report  to  her.  By  far,  most  of the  crime  scene  data  she  and  her  team  gathered  was sent to the detectives in charge of a case and that was the  end  of  her  involvement.  Diane  felt  a  bit  falsely accused.
  "I  think  it's  about  time  I  brought  Bryce  in  for  a talk," said Janice. "I'd like you to keep Rikki Gillinick on at the lab for a while. I think the longer they have hope  they'll  ?nd  what  they  are  looking  for,  the  more information  we  can  get  from  them."
  "All right," said Diane. "You might want to get the GBI  to do  your crime  scenes until  we wrap  this  up. I can't  allow  her  to  work  on  anything  beyond  what  we are doing now. We probably will have to rework cases that  came  under  Bryce's  tenure  the  way  it  is."
"I see what you mean. Do you think she'll get suspi­ cious,  not  working  cases?"  asked  Janice.
"The  ?rst  thing  I  did  after  I  was  reinstated  was  to ask David to contact TechClean to do a top-to-bottom cleaning  of  the  lab,"  said  Diane.  "There  was  a  layer of dust on everything, and that can only mean the air ?lters  aren't  working.  We  have  to  ?x  that  problem.  I also  told  them  we  have  to  recalibrate  all  the  equip­ ment.  That  will  take  as  long  as  I  let  it.  Rikki  was present  during  all  that  discussion,  so  she  knows  we won't  be  doing  much  outside  the  lab  for  a  while."
  "Okay.  That's  what  we  will  do.  You  let  us  know when  you're  ready  to  take  new  cases.  Any  luck  with the  computer?"  asked  Janice.
  "David  and  Frank  are  working  on  it,  and  they're very good," Diane said. "Apparently it's slow going."
"Okay. Keep me informed and thanks for the infor­ mation,"  she  said.
"Sure,"  said  Diane.  "How  is  Garnett?"
"Lawyered up. Which is a good thing. This has been very  hard  for  us  to  deal  with.  I  told  him  that  if  the new  chief  tries  to  hang  it  on  him,  we'll  all  back  him up,"  said  Janice.  "He  probably  thought  I  was  playing him like a perp. Frankly, I think he's protecting some­ one.  So  does  the  chief."
"That  makes  more  sense  than  him  being  a  mur­ derer,"  said  Diane.
Diane put the phone back in the cradle and immedi­ ately  her  cell  rang.
It was plugged in on her desk. She unplugged it and ?ipped  it  open.  It  was  Sheriff  Can?eld.
"Interesting  news,"  he  said.  "The  Atlanta  police can't  locate  the  Chen  kid.  His  landlord  hasn't  seen him  in  weeks  and  the  rent  is  overdue.  The  landlord says Chen was real punctual with the rent despite the ring  in  his  nose.  They  collected  the  things  you  asked for.  I'll  send  them  over  tomorrow."
"That  was  fast.  How  in  the  world  did  you  talk  At­ lanta  PD  into  responding  so  quickly?"  said  Diane.
"Rosewood  has  to  ?ll  out  forms  in  triplicate  to  get anything  from  them.  That's  amazing."
"One   of   the   detectives   is   my   son-in-law.   The boy   knows   to   do   what   I   tell   him   pronto,"   said Can?eld.
Diane  laughed.
"Have  you  heard  from  the  GBI  about  the  bullet?" asked  Diane.
"That  was  my  second  bit  of  news.  The  GBI  got  a hit, and  I don't  like it one  bit. No,  sirree, I don't  like this  one  bit."
"What  is  it?"  said  Diane.
"The  bullet  we  found  in  the  ?eld  is  from  the  same gun that killed Mayor Spence Jefferies. How's that for a bad day? Now I have to deal with Rosewood. Janice Warrick  is  the  lead  detective  on  this.  She's  not  too bad," he commented. "I'm still shaking my head about Delamore trying to kill you. That's why I hate to deal with  Rosewood.  You  never  know  when  one  of  them isn't  right  in  the  head."
Talk  of  Delamore  made  Diane  uneasy.  The  whole event was just starting to sink in. The shock of it had worn  off,  and  what  was  left  was  the  fear  of  what might  have  happened,  and  the  guilt  over  what  did happen.
"Hopefully, he was unique," she said. "I'm sure Ja­ nice will be glad to hear about the bullet. And I know she  won't  try  to  kill  you."
The  sheriff  chuckled.  "Don't  count  on  it.  My  wife says  I  make  people  mad  on  purpose."
"Sounds like one shooter for the two murders," said Diane.  "Chen  and  Jefferies.  How  odd."
Diane  ?ddled  with  the  loose  rock  in  the  fountain and  dropped it  on  the  ?oor. It  rolled  under her  desk.
She  bent  and  picked  it  up  and  put  it  back  in  its  hole in  the  fountain.
"The bullet doesn't match the one that killed your- all's  chief  of  detectives,  Edgar  Peeks,"  said  Can?eld.
"I understand that was from Garnett's gun, and I have to  tell  you,  I  can't  believe  what  I'm  hearing.  Garnett and  I  have  never  seen  quite  eye  to  eye,  but  I  never ?gured him for a cold-blooded killer. I told my depu­ ties,  there  has  to  be  some  mistake,"  he  said.  "You think this new ME of yours gave them the wrong bul­ let?  Could  he  be  a  part  of  this?"
"Janice Warrick and Izzy Wallace witnessed the au­ topsy.  They  saw  him  take  the  bullet  out  of  Peeks' brain  and  give  it  to  them.  Janice  said  it  was  from  the gun  they  took  off  Garnett  at  the  scene."
"I  hate  hearing  that,"  said  Can?eld.
"So do  I," said  Diane. "He  has been  very support­ ive  of  me  since  we  put  the  crime  unit  in,  and  very protective  of  the  museum."
"Before  I  talk  to  Janice,  I'd  like  to  speak  with  you more  about  what's  going  on.  You  can  explain  to  me about  this  cybergang  stuff  you  were  talking  about.
They  don't  like  to  share  information  in  Rosewood.
They  expect  me  to  do  all  the  sharing.  That's  why  I don't  like  dealing  with  them.  They  act  like  Rose­ wood's a big city and we're just rubes out here. I don't live  but  a  mile  from  the  city  limits,  so  I  don't  know who  they  think  they  are  fooling."
"I  know  what  you  mean  about  the  sharing  going only  one  way,"  said  Diane.
"Oh,  one  more  thing,"  he  said.  "My  wife  wants  to know  what  you  wear  to  a  white-tie  function.  We've never  been  to  one."
Diane  smiled.  "Andie,  my  assistant,  is  putting  to­ gether a newsletter that gives all the details. I'll make sure  you  get  a  copy,"  she  said.
"I would appreciate  that. I told my wife  I wouldn't understand fashion advice even if I wrote it down. Just tell me this,  do I have to  wear one of them  top hats?
I  told  the  wife  that  there  are  just  some  things  where I  draw  the  line,  and  that's  one  of  them."
"No.  No  top  hat,"  said  Diane.
"Good." He laughed. "Can't you just see me in one of  those?"
Diane  seriously  couldn't.
She  hung  up  the  phone  and  went  back  into  her sitting room. Neva was dusting the inside of the com­ puter  case  for  prints.  David  and  Frank  were  at  the computer  discussing  the  decryption  procedures.  Jin was  sitting  on  the  sofa  with  Izzy,  giving  him  a  course in DNA. Someone had cleaned up all the refuse from the  pizza  dinner  and  disposed  of  it.
Diane pulled up a chair and sat down beside Frank.
"How  are  we  doing?"  she  asked.
"We're  just  starting,"  said  Frank.  "If  it's  encrypted SCATTERED  GRAVES using  a  very  long  key,  then  we  may  not  be  able  to break  it  before  the  end  of  this  century."
  "Well, how do hackers get in?" asked Diane. "How do  they  break  the  encryption?"
"The  best  way  is  to  not,"  said  David.
"Is  this  Yoda  talking?"  said  Diane.
David  smiled.  "No,  it's  me.  One  of  the  drawbacks with  encryption  is  that  it  doesn't  work  before  the  in­ formation  is  encrypted."
"No,"  agreed  Diane.  "I  can  see  how  it  wouldn't."
"That's   the   power   of   recruiting   computer-savvy people  to  work  in  businesses  the  way  Jefferies  did," said  Frank.  "They  have  access  to  the  information  be­ fore  it  is  encrypted.  They  can  install  their  own  soft­ ware  that  steals  and  reroutes  the  information  to  a place  of  their  choosing."
David   nodded.   "According   to   Sutton's   research, Jefferies placed people in banking, insurance, and gov­ ernment  agencies.  It  boggles  the  mind  the  amount  of information  he  had  access  to.  At  this  point  I  don't know  which  would  be  more  useful,  a  list  of  bank  ac­ count  numbers  or  a  list  of  people  he  had  in  place."
"One  of  the  things  the  heads  of  these  gangs  do," said  Frank, "is  recruit  someone  from a  technical  ?eld that  is  not  computer  science,  like,  say,  engineering.
Give  him  advanced  computer  training  and  get  him  a job, for example, in the aerospace industry. Install him as  a  sleeper  in  a  company,  doing  work  not  directly connected  with  sensitive  information.  Put  him  some­ place  where  he  would  never  be  suspected.  Give  him time  to  work  his  way  up  to  a  spot  where  he  can  use those  advanced  computer  skills  you  gave  him  to  steal company secrets, ?nancial data, personal data-a whole range  of  possibilities.  A  high-placed  sleeper  can  rob the  company's  databases  and  cover  his  tracks  so  no one  knows  he's  the  thief. I  use  him  as  an  example.  It could  just  as  easily  be  a  Mata  Hari."
"It  sounds  very  cold  war,"  said  Diane.
"It's like that exactly," said Frank. "They've adopted old  KGB  tactics,  and  it  works  quite  well."
	Beverly  Connor   Diane was letting everything David and Frank were telling  her  sink  in.  Suddenly,  a  red  light  on  the  wall began   ?ashing   and   issuing   a   low   but   penetrating sound.  They  all  looked  at  Diane.
"Someone's  trying  to  break  into  the  crime  lab," she  said.
Chapter 36
Diane  looked  at  the  computer.  Neva  was  frozen  over the  case  with  a  ?ngerprint  card  in  her  hand.  Frank and  David  made  eye  contact  with  her,  their  faces creased  in  frowns.  Izzy  stood  up  behind  her,  ready to  go.
  "The  computer.  I'll  bet  someone's  after  the  com­ puter,"  said  Diane.  "They  don't  know  it's  here.  In case  they  ?gure  it  out,  all  of  you  stay  here."
She  started  for  the  door.
"Don't  you  need  backup?"  said  Izzy.
"I   have   backup.   My   entire   security   department should be on their way. I need all of you to stay here and  protect  the  computer."
Diane  dashed  out  the  doors,  locking  each  one  in turn  behind  her-her  sitting  room  door,  her  of?ce, Andie's of?ce. When she got to the hallway she could see  her  security  personnel  hurrying  out  of  the  secu­ rity  of?ce.
"What's  going  on?"  she  asked  when  she  met  up with  Chanell,  her  chief  of  security.
"The  guards  on  the  museum  side  of  the  crime  lab don't   know   anything.   I   haven't   been   able   to   get Mickey,  the  outside  guard,  to  answer,"  she  said.
There were two ways to get to the crime lab-from the museum side on the third ?oor, and from an eleva­ tor on the outside of the building. When she installed the crime lab, Diane had an elevator built on the out­ side  of  the  museum  that  went  directly  to  the  third ?oor  and  opened  into  the  crime  lab.  At  ground  level was  a  small  room  with  an  outside  door  that  provided access to the elevator. That room always had a recep­ tionist and a guard on duty in the daytime and a guard at night. It was that room that apparently was compro­ mised.
  Chanell  sent  two  guards  up  to  the  third  ?oor  to reinforce  the  ones  that  were  already  there.  Diane, Chanell, and two guards left the museum by the main front door and walked around the outside of the build­ ing  toward  the  west  wing.
  It  was  already  dark.  The parking  lot  lights  were  on and  the  entire  front  lot  was  illuminated.  Diane  could see that some of the lights were out just ahead toward the  west  wing.  Not  good.
  They had to thread through a stream of people en­ tering  and  leaving  through  the  door  to  the  museum restaurant.  Diane  and  the  security  personnel  went  at a  fast  walk,  and  Diane  hoped  they  weren't  attracting the  attention  of  the  diners.
  It  was  cold.  Diane  hadn't  thought  to  bring  a  coat. She  walked  faster.
  Just ahead two security guards came out of the dou­ ble  doors  of  the  main  entrance  to  the  west  wing  of the  building.
  The  ropes  were  up  that  blocked  people  from  park­ ing on the west end after museum hours. They ducked under  the  ropes  and  proceeded  to  the  end  of  the building.
  This  was  taking  too  long.  It  was  a  ?aw  in  the  ar­ rangement.  They  needed  a  quicker  way  to  get  to  the outside entrance to the crime lab elevator. They stopped just  as  they  got  to  the  corner  of  the  building.
  "Send  a  couple  of  guards  back  through  the  dino room, out the back entrance. Have them come around the  building  from  that  way,"  said  Diane.
"Good  idea,"  said  Chanell.
"Let's not have any shooting unless it's life or death.
I  don't  want  to  alarm  the  restaurant  visitors,"  said Diane.
  Two  security  guards  went  back  into  the  building. Another  two  went  around  the  corner  ahead  of  Diane and  Chanell, who  followed  when  they saw  the  guards gesture  that  it  was  clear.
  There was no one outside the entrance to the small room  at  the  base  of  the  elevator.  They  couldn't  see behind the room, but the two guards who went around the  building  should  be  there  soon.
  Diane  listened  for  the  sound  of  the  elevator.  She looked  at  the  shaft  on  the  side  of  the  building  that housed  the  elevator  car-not  that  she  could  see  any­ thing.  She  supposed  she  looked  because  that's  where the  sound  would  come  from  if  the  elevator  was  in use.  But  there  was  no  noise  of  any  kind  except  the background  noise  of  people  entering  and  leaving  the restaurant.
  It was cold enough to produce puffs of fog with each breath. Diane's ?ngers were starting to ache. What was she thinking, not grabbing a coat and gloves? She blew into  her  hands.
  She  heard  the  noise  ?rst,  for  she  was  the  ?rst  one to  turn  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  door.  The door  opened  slowly,  then  stopped  after  a  couple  of inches.  Her  security  staff  trained  their  guns  in  that direction.  Chanell  motioned  for  Diane  to  get  behind them.
  Her  heart  thumped  in  her  chest  and  made  a  lump in  her  throat.  Suddenly  and  violently  the  door  burst open.  A  ?gure  dressed  from  head  to  foot  in  black came out of the door holding a young woman in front of  him.  He  had  one  arm  around  her  throat  and  was holding  a  gun  to  her  head  with  the  other  hand.  She was  lightly  dressed  in  jeans  and  a  T-shirt.
Who  is  she?  thought  Diane.
There  was silence  for  a  moment: the  ?gure  holding a   hostage   confronting   Diane's   security   guards.   A face-off.
The  male  voice  of  the  perp  broke  the  silence.
"Leave  us  or  I'll  kill  her."
So  common.  But  Diane  hadn't  expected  creativity.
  "That's Mickey's wife," Chanell whispered to Diane. Mickey  was  the  security  guard  for  this  end  of  the building.  That  must  be  how  the  perp  got  Mickey  to open  the  door-he  used  Mickey's  wife.  The  problem for the perp, though, was that Mickey didn't know the key  code  to  the  crime  lab  door  once  the  elevator  got up  there.  Bad  planning.
  Mickey's wife coughed. The perp pushed the muzzle of the gun against her temple and told her to shut up.
  "Let  her  go,"  said  Diane  in  a  calmer  voice  than she  felt.
"I'll  kill  her,"  he  said  again.
He  wasn't  large.  That  was  good.  Not  much  body mass.
"You  do  that,"  said  Diane,  "and  you  lose  your shield.  These  people  are  friends  of  Mickey.  You  kill his  wife;  they  kill  you."  She  hoped  she  sounded  cold and  menacing  enough.
The  woman's  body  trembled  as  she  coughed  again, and  he  squeezed  her  tighter  and  told  her  again  to shut  up.
"You're   making   her   cough.   You're   holding   her throat  too  tight.  Ease  up  a  little,"  said  Diane.
He  backed  with  his  hostage  in  the  direction  of  the woods  bordering  the  museum.  The  access  road  that ran through the woods wasn't far away. Diane guessed that  was  where  his  getaway  vehicle  was  parked.
"I  have  an  offer,"  said  Diane.  "Exchange  me  for your  hostage."
"No,"  whispered  Chanell.  "Not  a  good  idea."
Diane ignored her. "In a show of good faith, I'll get the  guards  to  back  away,"  said  Diane.
She told Chanell to back her people up. It was obvi­ ous  Chanell  didn't  want  to  do  it.
"Reduce  the  tension,"  said  Diane.  "Give  him  ?fty feet  of  space  so  he  will  calm  down."
"No  tricks,"  he  said.  "No  tricks,  damn  you."
"No  tricks,"  said  Diane.
Chanell  and  her  guards  backed  off,  leaving  Diane facing  the  perp  holding  Mickey's  wife.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "Listen  to  me,"  said  Diane.  "I  think  you  are  after the  computer,  aren't  you?"
He  said  nothing.
"It's  not  in  the  crime  lab.  Even  if  you  could  get in  there,  you  wouldn't  ?nd  what  you  want.  I  have  it somewhere   else.   The   advantage   to   exchanging   the young  woman  for  me  is  that  I  know  where  the  com­ puter  is.  She  doesn't."
He  was  quiet  for  several  moments.
Where  are  the  other  two  guards  we  sent  through  the building?  Didn't  they  get  the  instructions  right?
"Come  over  here  slowly,"  he  said.  "Don't  try  any­ thing,  or  I'll  take  out  you  and  the  woman  before  I go  down."
"No  one  has  to  die,"  said  Diane.  "We  all  want  to get  out  of  this  alive."
Diane  stepped  forward  slowly.  When  she  was  di­ rectly  in  front  of  him,  he  told  her  to  turn  around, facing   away   from   him.   She  did   what   he   said.   He shoved  the  girl  to  the  ground  and  grabbed  Diane from  behind.
Okay,  thought  Diane,  so  far  the  plan  is  working beautifully.
She  was  suddenly  knocked  off  her  feet  as  the  man yelled  and  fell  down,  kicking  at  something.
"What the-?" said Diane; then she saw that Mick­ ey's  wife  had  him  by  the  leg  and  was  biting  him.
Diane  was  lying  on  his  gun  arm.  She  wrestled  him for the weapon, and was joined in the effort by Mick­ ey's wife, who held his hand down and bit his thumb.
He screamed and released the gun, and Mickey's wife picked  it  up.
The  man  pushed  himself  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and backed up wildly, with Diane close after him. Mickey's wife stood  aiming the gun  at the  man. Unfortunately, the  way  she  was  aiming,  she  could  just  as  easily  hit Diane, who stood between them, and it didn't appear that  she  was  skilled  with  ?rearms.
Chanell  and  the  guards  were  running  toward  them, and  Chanell  de?ected  the  gun  before  Mickey's  wife 	Beverly  Connor could  shoot  the  wrong  person.  The  man  took  advan­ tage of the fact that Diane was standing in the line of ?re and started running toward the woods. Diane ran after  him,  followed  closely  by  Chanell.
  His  truck  was  parked  on  the  access  road,  just  as Diane  had  suspected.  The  driver's  door  was  open. Ready for a fast getaway, thought Diane. She was just a  few  feet  from  him,  but  he  jumped  in  the  truck  and slammed the door before she could tackle him. Diane ran up and grabbed at him through the open window, trying  to  rip  his  mask  off.  He  held  on  to  her  and started  the  truck's  engine.
Oh,  hell,  thought  Diane.
Chapter 37
The  man  held  her  wrist  tight  with  his  left  hand  as  he turned  the  key  in  the  ignition.  Diane  grabbed  his thumb  in  a  panic  and  pulled.  He  yelled  and  tried  to tighten his grip. Diane felt the nails of his ?ngers dig­ ging into her ?esh. The truck didn't start immediately, but  on  the  second  turn  of  the  key,  the  engine  came to  life  and  the  truck  started  forward.
  Diane  pulled  harder  on  his  thumb.  She  ran  along­ side  the  truck,  struggling  to  wrestle  her  arm  from  his grasp  as  the  truck  gained  speed.  He  yelped  as  she broke his thumb back. She fell backward into the ditch on the side  of the road, rolling, and  scraping her face on  the  gravel.
  She  lay  there  for  a  second,  too  stunned  to  get  up. She suddenly realized that the sound of the truck wasn't fading,  but  getting  louder.  She  rose  to  her  hands  and knees  and  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  The truck  was  backing  up  toward  her.  She  leaped  into  the nearby  bushes  just  before  the  truck's  left  rear  tire  hit the  ditch  where  she  had  lain.  The  truck  bounced  and the rear slammed into the embankment; then, its tires spinning,  it  sped  off,  spraying  gravel  over  Diane.
  Diane stood and watched the truck ?shtail down the access  road  and  out  of  sight.  She  noted  that  it  didn't have  a  tag.  It  was  hard  to  see  the  color  in  the  dark, but  she  thought  it  was  either  black,  or  navy  blue,  or perhaps dark green. She also noted that it was a Ford Ranger,  around  the  year  2000,  give  or  take.
  Chanell  came  running  up  the  road  along  with  one of  the  security  guards.
  "Are you all right?" she said. "Dr. Fallon, you don't have enough excitement hanging off the side of a cliff; you  have  to  go  off  trying  to  run  down  a  maniac  in a  truck?"
"Apparently  not,"  muttered  Diane,  dusting  herself off. She shook out her hair, running her hands through it.  She  put  a  hand  to  her  face  and  came  away  with blood  on  her  ?ngers.  Chanell  gave  her  a  tissue.
"How's  Mickey?"  said  Diane.  "Is  he  all  right?"
"I  don't  know,"  said  Chanell.  "I  hurried  after  you when we got the gun away from Shara-Mickey's wife."
"Did  his  wife  say  why  she  tried  to  shoot  me?" said  Diane.
Chanell  gave  a  short,  mirthless  laugh.  "She  was scared  and  angry,"  said  Chanell.  "The  woman  has  a temper.  She  was  ?ghting  us  trying  to  get  the  gun  out of her hand. I think she just panicked. You know how some  people  go  all  crazy  when  they're  scared."
They  hurried  back  to  the  museum.  The  other  two security  guards,  the  ones  who  were  supposed  to  go through  the  building  and  out  the  back,  were  there looking  sheepish.
"What  in  the  hell  did  the  two  of  you  do?"  said Chanell.  "Stop  for  coffee?"
"One  of  the  doors  was  blocked  by  that  delivery truck,"  said  one  of  the  guards.  "There  was  a  storage container in front of the door on the loading dock. We had  to  go  around  to  the  restaurant's  back  entrance."
"That's the truck I told those guys not to leave un­ attended?"  said  Chanell.
"Well,  they  did  leave  it,"  said  the  other  guard.  "It was  backed  up  against  the  door."
"I'll  get  on  it  right  away,  Dr. Fallon.  I  told  those guys  they  had  to  unload  and  move  the  trucks,  that they  couldn't  block  the  doors."
"Is  that  the  material  for  the  new  exhibits?"  said Diane.
"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Chanell.
  "They were supposed to go to the east wing loading dock  with  that  anyway,"  said  Diane.
  "Don't I know it. These guys are stubborn and hard to deal with," said Chanell. "They've been giving our workers  a  ?t."
  "Then  I'll  cross  them  off  our  list  of  shippers,"  said Diane. "What was wrong with the outside door in the Arachnid  Room?"  said  Diane.
  "That  room's  being  redone  and  it  was  locked  off," the  guard  said.  "We  thought  we  could  get  out  the restaurant  door  quicker.  We're  just  really  sorry."
  "We  can  sort  the  access  problems  out  tomorrow," said  Diane.  "What  happened  here?"  Diane  gestured toward  Mickey  and  his  wife.  The  two  were  huddled together.
  Another of the security guards stepped forward and started  to  speak  just  as  the  police  arrived,  headed  by Detective  Janice  Warrick.  Out  of  the  corner  of  her eye  Diane  saw  Frank  walking  across  the  parking  lot.
"What  happened  here?"  said  Warrick.
Diane  allowed  Chanell  to  explain  to  Janice  what had  happened.  Chanell  and  the  security  guard  who had  released  Mickey  told  Janice  the  story,  from  the sound of the alarm, to the almost apprehension of the perpetrator,  to  releasing  Mickey.
Frank  came  and  stood  by  Diane.  He  looked  at  her face for several moments and gave her a handkerchief to  replace  the  Kleenex.
"Do  you  need  to  go  to  the  emergency  room?"  said Janice.
"No,"  said  Diane.  "The  last  time  I  was  there  they offered  me  a  season  pass."
Everyone  smiled  or  snickered  except  Frank.
"Where  are  the  others?"  Diane  asked  Frank  in  a low  voice.
"With  the  computer  in  your  of?ce.  Izzy  wanted  to come  with  me,  but  I  told  him  if  he  wanted  to  work for  you  he  had  to  start  following  your  orders.  I  was under  no  such  constraints.  Are  you  all  right?"
"Yes.  I've  had  worse  scrapes  in  a  cave,"  she  said.
"I  know,"  said  Frank.
Diane  listened  to  the  stories.  Mickey  and  his  wife walked over together and told Janice what happened.
The wife had been grabbed at home as she was getting groceries  out  of  her  car.  The  man,  whose  face  she never  saw,  told  her  he  had  a  partner  at  her  parents' home  who  would  shoot  them  if  she  didn't  come  with him to the crime lab. At the lab she was forced to get her husband, Mickey, to open the door. When she did, the  masked  man  pushed  his  way  in,  slapped  Mickey on the side of the head with his gun, and made Mick­ ey's  wife  cuff  her  husband  with  disposable  restraints.
The perp then restrained her and took the elevator to the  third  ?oor.  He  was  there  for  several  minutes  be­ fore  he  came  down  and  demanded  the  code  to  the crime lab door. Mickey, of course, didn't know it. The guy  didn't  believe  him  and  was  threatening  Mickey's wife.  Mickey  told  him  help  would  be  coming  soon because the guy had set off the alarm by messing with the crime lab door, and that he, in fact, did not know the  code  for  just  such  occasions.  The  perp  cut  the wife's  ties  and  told  her  to  open  the  door  an  inch  and if  she  tried  anything  she  was  dead.  That's  when  he burst  out  the  door  holding  her.
Chanell  explained  the  rest  of  the  events,  including Diane offering herself in exchange. Diane cringed. She knew  Frank  would  be  angry.
"Why  did  you  do  that?"  said  Janice.
"I  could  see  Mickey's  wife  was  frightened  and  I thought  that  if  I  could  convince  the  guy  I  knew  what he was looking for and could get it for him, he would let her go and we could get the upper hand. Then she grabbed  his  ankle,  tripped  him  up,  and  bit  him,  and from  there  things  got  out  of  control."
"He threatened my family," said Shara. "He hit my husband  and  he  touched  me.  Nobody  touches  me."
She  folded  her  arms  under  her  breasts.
"Has   anyone   heard   from   your   parents?"   Janice asked  Shara.  "Are  they  okay?"
"Yes, the ?rst thing I did was call them," said Shara.
"They're  ?ne.  The  jerk  was  lying.  There  wasn't  any­ one  at  their  house."
"Let's  focus  on  the  perpetrator,"  said  Janice.  "Dr.
Fallon,  you  think  he  was  after  the  computer?"
Diane  nodded.  "He  seemed  to  be.  When  you  ?nd him,  he'll  have  a  bite  mark  on  his  right  leg,  and  his left  thumb  will  be  broken.  And  I  imagine  he'll  have a  few  minor  cuts  and  scrapes  from  the  fall  on  the pavement."
"Do  you  have  any  idea  who  he  might  be?"  said Janice.  "Could  he  have  been  the  shadowy  ?gure  in the  video?"
There was that sword hanging over her again. Diane had  almost  forgotten  about  it.
"No,"  she  said.  "This  guy  was  smaller."
Diane quickly gave a description of the man's build and  his  truck,  hoping  Janice  wouldn't  bring  up  the shadow  man  again.
"I   know   who   I'd   look   at,"   said   Diane.   "Curtis Crabtree.  He  was  the  same  size,  and  he  ?gures  in  all this  in  some  way.  Plus,  he  seems  to  lack  good  judg­ ment. I'd at least have a look at his ankle and thumb."
  Frank  insisted  on  taking  Diane  to  the  emergency room when they ?nished. She didn't argue, saving her words  for  when  the  real  argument  would  come  later. They  waited  an  hour  in  the  emergency  room.  It  took another  two  hours  for  the  tests  that  told  her  she  was ?ne,  just  banged  up.
  She was standing outside waiting for Frank to drive around  with  the  car  when  Shane  Eastling,  the  ME, walked up to the door and started to enter. He stopped when  he  saw Diane. A shock of brown  hair  blew  over his  freckled  face.  He  didn't  shove  it  out  of  the  way. She thought he was going to give her the kind of sym­ pathetic comments she had gotten from everyone who saw  her  face-especially  now  that  she  looked  even worse.  He  didn't.
	Beverly  Connor   "I don't appreciate you trying to tell me how to do my  job,"  he  said.  "And  I  don't  intend  to  do  yours for  you."
"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked.
"The  watch  that  was  on  backward  or  upside  down, or  whatever.  That  Warrick  woman  was  all  over  me about  it  and  was  questioning  me  about  anything  else I  didn't  put  in  my  report.  I  autopsy  bodies.  If  you can't  do  your  little  observations  at  the  crime  scene, don't  ask me  to  do them  for  you. Who  in  the hell  do you  think  you  are?"
"For one thing, I'm the person who was not working the  mayor's  crime  scene.  That  would  be  Bryce.  Did you  know  him  in  school?"  asked  Diane.  She  looked at  his  ?nger  for  a  signet  ring.  There  was  none.
"What?"   Eastling   looked   annoyed   and   puzzled.
"No.  Why  would  you  ask  that?"
"You   recommended   Dr.  Jeffcote-Smith   to   him," she  said.
"No," he said slowly as if to a child. "It's she I went to  school  with  once  upon  a  time.  Bryce  mentioned he  was  looking  for  a  good  forensic  anthropologist.  I immediately  thought  of  Jennifer."
"Look,  Dr. Eastling,  from  here  on  out  our  paths are  going  to  cross,  and  there  will  be  times  when  we will have to work together. I would like to be able to do  that  as  civilly  as  possible.  If  I  have  offended  you, then  I  apologize.  It  was  certainly  not  my  intention."
He looked at her for a moment as if surprised. "As long  as  you  understand  what  your  job  is,  I  don't  see why  we  can't  get  along,"  he  said.
"Good,"  said  Diane.  "Let  me  ask  you,  did  you know  any  of  the  mayor's  friends?"  she  asked.  "They were  all  very  well  educated."
"Were they? I went to Cal State as an undergradu­ ate and Chicago for med school. Where did they go?"
He  smirked  as  if  expecting  her  to  say  Podunk  U.
Maybe  he  didn't  know  them.
"University   of   Pennsylvania,   Wharton   School   of Business,"  she  said.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  His  smirk  faded.  "Really?  What  the  hell  were  they doing  being  policemen  here?  Did  they  ?unk  out?"
  "No,  they  did  quite  well.  I  was  hoping  you  knew them and could answer that question-what were they doing  here?  Puzzling  isn't  it?"  she  said.
"It  is,"  he  said.  "Bryce  go  to  school  there  too?"
"Bryce had the best grades of all of them," she said.
"I  wouldn't  have  thought  that,"  he  said.
"Probably  because  he  was  working  outside  of  his discipline,"  said  Diane.
Eastling  shook  his  head  and  thought  for  a  minute as  if  processing  the  new  information.
"Can't  help  you  with  any  of  them."
He  brushed  past  her  and  went  on  in.
She  watched  him  through  the  glass  doors  and  saw him meet Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith, who must have been there  ahead  of  him.  They  stood  for  a  moment  talking.
It became clear to her now, he was smitten with Jenni­ fer.  From  the  body  language,  Diane  wasn't  sure  if  it was  reciprocated.  That's  why  he  found  her  a  job  here.
And possibly why he was so pissed with Diane. She had spoiled  all  his  plans  by  being  the  rightful  occupant  of the  osteology  lab.  They  headed  toward  the  cafeteria.
An  odd  place  for  an  assignation,  but  probably  a  safe one.  Who  would  suspect  a  hospital  cafeteria  as  the site  for  a  romantic  rendezvous?
Frank  drove  up  and  Diane  got  in  the  car.  She  was not looking forward to the ride home. Frank was very slow  to  anger,  but  she  sensed  she  had  crossed  his threshold.
Chapter 38
They  drove  back  home  in  silence.  Diane  dozed  along the way and awoke with a start when the car stopped, realizing  that  her  own  vehicle  was  still  parked  at  the museum.
  Frank  built  a  ?re  while  Diane  took  a  shower  and put on a warm nightgown and robe. She sat on a sofa and watched the ?ames dancing in the ?replace. Occa­ sionally  the  wood  popped  and  tiny  sparks  ?ew  onto the  rock hearth.  She  smelled  the hot  chocolate  Frank was  making-one  of  his  ultimate  comfort  foods  for cold  nights of  ?ghting  crime  and maniacs.  He'd  made it  for  her  more  than  once.
Frank  came  from  the  kitchen  with  two  cups  and gave her one. He sat down on the sofa opposite hers.
"How  are  you  feeling?"  he  asked.
His  voice  always  made  him  sound  even  tempered.
It  was  one  of  the  things  Diane  admired  about  him, but  now  she  found  it  a  bit  annoying.
"Physically, I feel ?ne. I'm a little weary of waiting for  the  other  shoe  to  drop.  I  know  you're  angry  with me."
"Yes," he said, "I am. Why did you go running out after that guy? Why did you offer to exchange yourself for the hostage? You should never do that. Why didn't you  just  wait  for  the  police  to  arrive?  You  have  no training  in  that  kind  of  physical  police  work."  His voice wasn't as calm now. He set his cup down without taking  a  drink.
  "I thought I could handle the situation," said Diane. She jumped as a lightbulb blew out in the table lamp beside  the  sofa,  plunging  them  into  a  darkness  broken only  by  the  ?relight.  Frank  got  up  and  turned  on  the overhead  chandelier. Before he sat down  again,  he  got a  bulb  from  the  closet  in  the  hall.  Diane  watched  him unscrew  the  old  bulb  and  screw  in  the  new  one,  an act   that   strangely   tickled   her   brain   and   oddly   re­ minded  her  of  the  loose  rock  in  her  desk  fountain. Frank  laid  the  old  bulb  on  the  table,  turned  off  the chandelier,  and  sat  back  down.
  As  Diane  watched  him,  she  realized  that  was  an­ other  idiosyncrasy  she  had  always  liked  in  Frank.  He took  care  of  problems  in  his  house  immediately.  If  a light  blew,  he  replaced  it.  If  a  faucet  dripped,  he  re­ paired  it  himself  or  had  it  ?xed  right  away.  If  a  door sagged,  he  had  it  straightened.  If  you  wait,  he  said, it'll  only  get  worse  and  you'll  have  a  bigger  repair. Consequently, his house was always in order-though not necessarily always neat. He did have a high toler­ ance  for  paper  clutter,  especially  on  the  dining  room table,   that   bothered   Diane.   But   the   house   always worked.  Nothing  was  ever  broken  for  long.
  That's what he was doing now. Fixing his home be­ fore  the  problem  got  worse.  Frank's  arguments  were never  accusations  or  recriminations,  not  like  her  ex- husband's arguments. Frank's were always about ?xing things,  sorting  through  things,  getting  to  the  bottom of things. He didn't like to go to bed angry. But some­ times  Diane  thought  it  was  best  to  let  matters  alone. Sometimes  they  did  just  ?x  themselves.
  "What  was  it  about  the  situation  you  thought  you could handle? Was it the gun in his hand, or the choke hold  on  the  hostage?"  said  Frank.
  Diane  set  her  cup  down.  She  hadn't  taken  a  sip either.  Hot  chocolate  just  didn't  ?t  her  mood.
"Look,  Frank,  do  you  really  expect  an  answer  to that?  I did  what  I thought  was right  at  the time.  Was it  the  best  thing?  I  don't  know.  We're  all  alive,  no shots  were  ?red,  but  we  don't  have  the  perp,  so  I guess  it's  just  half  and  half."
"Diane,  I  know  the  directors  of  several  state  crime labs, and none of them ever have the . . . the incidents that  you  do.  Why  is  that?"
"I  don't  know,  Frank.  I  really  don't.  Do  you  think it's  my  fault  Delamore  attacked  me?"
"Is that what you think this is about?" He wrinkled his  brow.  "Do  you  feel  guilty  over  his  death?"
"He  died.  Of  course  I  feel  guilty."
"Don't. The only difference between Delamore and a  murderer  is  success.  He  was  going  to  kill  you."
Frank hesitated a moment. "It's not Delamore you're feeling  guilty  about,  is  it?  It's  Ariel.  It's  this  time  of year in particular; you feel like you have to save every­ one.  Even  if  it  means  killing  yourself.  Isn't  that  it?"
Tears came  to Diane's  eyes  at  the mention  of  Ariel.
"I have no desire to die," she said vehemently. "None."
"But you do feel like you always have to take action.
To  stop  things  before  they  get worse," said Frank.
Ariel  was  Diane's  adopted  daughter.  Actually  the adoption  hadn't  gone  completely  through.  It  was  in progress,  stuck  in  the  slowness  of  bureaucracy.  But the  feelings  Diane  had  for  Ariel  weren't  stuck  in  the process.  Ariel  was  her  daughter.  She  was  her  heart.
Ariel  had  simply  shown  up  at  the  mission  where Diane  and  her  human  rights  team  were  staying  in South  America.  She  had  walked  out  of  the  jungle-a toddler, dirty, but unhurt, nameless. All efforts to ?nd parents or relatives were fruitless. It was a surprise to Diane  that  she  decided  to  adopt  Ariel.  She  never thought  of  herself  as  particularly  motherly,  but  Ariel had  brought  that  out.
She  didn't  take  her  usual  leaves  of  absence,  but lived  at  the  mission  with  Ariel,  working  out  of  there on her job with World Accord International. They had a  good  life  until  Diane  became  too  successful  at  un­ covering  the  evil  deeds  of  a  particularly  vile  dictator.
He retaliated by killing everyone at the mission while Diane  and  her  team  were  away.  She  blamed  herself for  not  just  taking  Ariel  away,  smuggling  her  out  if the  papers  weren't  ready.  She  had  the  contacts  to  do it.  But  she  was  so  involved  in  doing  things  the  legal way,  she  didn't  even  consider  it.  This  month  was  the anniversary of the massacre,  and it always made both her  and  David  ache  with  the  pain  of  their  losses. Frank was probably getting to the heart of why she did things the way she did. She didn't take action then, but  she  would  now.  Always  take  action  before  things get  worse-a  subconscious  code  she  lived  by.  Not  so subconscious. Diane wanted to make her corner of the world  safe  for  people  to  live  in.
  Tears  ran  down  her  cheeks.  She  looked  up  at  the picture  on  the  mantel  of  herself  and  Ariel  in  their mother-daughter out?ts she'd ordered from the States. Frank  took  her  hand,  then  pulled  her  to  him.
"Sometimes you have to let other people ?x things," he  said.
"Sometimes  they  don't,"  said  Diane.  "I  waited  for the government to issue Ariel's adoption papers; they never did. Sometimes you have to do things yourself."
"Let's  go  to  bed,"  he  said.
"Good  idea.  I'm  very  tired."
Frank got up, closed the ?replace screen, and turned out  the  lights.
Diane dreamed of changing lightbulbs. All over the house  she  was  changing  out  the  bulbs  one  after  the other.  Even  if  they  didn't  need  it,  she  changed  them anyway.  She  woke  up  with  a  start.
That  was perhaps  the  stupidest  dream I've  ever  had, she  thought.
She  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was  early.  Frank  was still  asleep.  He  wasn't  driving  into  Atlanta  until  the cybergang  case  was  concluded.  His  bosses  were  ex­ cited by the discoveries about the mayor and the gang.
They smelled a big case about to burst wide open. They, like  everyone  else,  wanted  what  was  hidden  on  the computer.  Diane  was  lying  there  thinking  that  maybe 	Beverly  Connor it  was  a  red  herring.  She  had  heard  by  way  of  Izzy- Janice was talking to him-that nothing was found on the  computers  of  Edgar  Peeks.  Just  business.  It  was the   mayor's   computer   everyone   had   pinned   their hopes   on.   It   was   the   one   that   had   the   serious encryption.
  Diane  remembered  she  hadn't  asked  Frank  about the  latest  on  his  Black  Light  hacker.  Who  was  he?  It was a fragile link-a message they could see only with a  black  light.  But  it  was  a  good  one,  a  good  circum­ stantial clue to add to all the other circumstantial clues they  had  stacking  up  but  couldn't  verify.
  Diane  got  out  of  bed  and  went  to  the  kitchen  to make   pancakes.   They   were   a   favorite   of   Frank's. Maybe they would make up for almost getting herself killed-repeatedly.
  She  had  to  call  Vanessa.  Diane  wasn't  looking  for­ ward  to  that.  She  had  just  got  the  crime  lab  back and  already  the  "danger"  clause  of  the  contract  was violated.  Would  it  always  be  a  risky  venture?  Frank was  right.  None  of  the  other  crime  labs  attracted  so much  danger.  Was  it  because  it  was  in  the  museum and  not  at  a  police  station  that  perps  felt  safe  trying to break in? Maybe she should move it away from the museum  and  resign  as  crime  lab  director.
  She started mixing the ingredients for the pancakes. As the griddle was heating up, she walked back to the bedroom  to  see  if  Frank  was  waking  up.  He  was  in the  shower.
  "I'm  making  pancakes,"  she  said  and  heard  him mumble  something  like,  "Great . . .  won't  be  long." She  poured  batter  on  the  griddle-always  a  messy operation for her. As the pancakes were cooking, she opened  a  drawer  to  dig  for  a  spatula.  Frank  kept  all his  kitchen  utensils  in  one  big  drawer.  Diane  kept meaning  to  straighten  it  out  but  had  never  gotten around  to  it.  She  searched  for  the  particular  spatula she  liked  to  use.  She  pulled  out  a  pair  of  ice  tongs and put them down on the counter. She saw the spat­ ula she wanted, pulled it out, and ?ipped the pancakes.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  She  looked  down  at  the  tongs.  Great.  She  had  laid them   in   pancake   batter   she   had   dribbled   on   the counter. She picked them up and stared at the pattern the batter made on the counter. She had seen a similar pattern  before,  and  she  knew  why  she  had  dreamed about  lightbulbs  all  night.
Chapter 39
After  breakfast,  and  after  explaining  her  epiphany- bad-dream  idea  to  Frank,  and  after  she  downloaded crime scene and autopsy photos, and after Frank drove her to the museum to get her SUV, Diane went to the police  shooting  range  and  asked  to  see  the  logbook. The  sergeant  on  duty  was  reluctant,  even  with  Di­ ane's  freshly  minted  ID.  He  was  torn,  she  could  see. He liked Garnett and he knew that even though Diane was  back  at  the  crime  lab  and  of?cially  neutral,  she was working in Garnett's favor. But he also had liked Harve  Delamore.
  Diane  smiled  in  the  friendliest  manner  she  could muster  and  said  if  he  needed  it  for  his  paperwork, she  could  call  the  chief  of  police  for  authorization. Grudgingly,  he  showed  her  the  book.  Diane  wanted to ask him why he and others who felt the way he did thought it was all right for Delamore to try to kill her. Why was that okay with them? She didn't understand it, even accounting for the male-bonding thing. Surely morality  should  kick  in  and  tell  their  conscience  that Delamore  was  wrong  to  try  to  do  what  he  did.  Obvi­ ously it wasn't rational. It was just their feelings. They liked Delamore and now he was dead and Diane had something  to  do  with  it.
  Diane examined  the logbook and  found something, though it was not exactly what she was looking for. It only  added  another  link  in  the  chain,  but  at  least  it didn't  destroy  it.  She  had  to  do  a  little  rethinking  of the  sequence  of  events.  Obviously,  if  she  was  right, there  had  been  a  change  in  plan  along  the  way,  a change in the intended target. Who could it have been? Diane  thanked  the  sergeant  sincerely  and  drove  to the  city  jail,  where  they  were  keeping  Garnett.  She didn't   have   any   trouble   seeing   him.   Odd,   thought Diane,  one  would  think  he  would  be  better  guarded than  a  logbook  at  the  gun  range.
  Garnett  didn't  look  good.  There  were  dark  circles under  his  eyes  and  his  whole  body  seemed  to  sag under the weight of his situation. Then again, he prob­ ably  looked  better  than  she  did.
  "There's  something  wrong."  He  began  talking  be­ fore Diane could say what she came for. His reticence with  Janice  apparently  didn't  roll  over  to  Diane.  His feelings  poured  out  of  him.
  "Something's  wrong.  I  didn't  kill  Edgar  Peeks.  I don't know who to trust. These are people I've known for a long time, and I can't believe they would be part of  a  conspiracy.  But  they  have  to  be.  I  didn't  shoot him.  Not  even  my  own  lawyer  believes  me.  Even  my family  is  doubting  me.  This  is  a  nightmare."
  "I know," said Diane. "I believe you and I'm work­ ing   on   proving   it.   Let   me   tell   you   what   I   think happened."
There was more surprise on Garnett's face than re­ lief.  He  stared  at  Diane,  not  speaking.
"I shouldn't be speaking to you, but just in case you may  be  able  to  remember  something  that  will  help, you  need  to  know  what's  going  on.  You  also  need  to have  some  hope.  It  must  be  like  you've  entered  the Twilight  Zone,  or  fell  into  a  Kafka  novel."
"You  can  explain  this?"  he  said  after  a  moment.
"I think so," said Diane. "The main problem you have is that a bullet from your gun was in Peeks' head. Janice and Izzy, both good, reliable witnesses, saw Shane East- ling  remove  it  from  Peeks'  brain.  And  when  they  ar­ rested you, you had your gun with you," said Diane.
"In  a  nutshell,  yes,  that's  my  problem.  But  they've made  a  mistake-"
  Diane  held  up  a  hand.  She  wasn't  sure  where  to start. She couldn't really tell him that she got the idea from  ?ddling  with  a  loose  rock  in  her  fountain,  or changing  a lightbulb.  But  that  was what  triggered  her idea:   taking   something   out   and   putting   something back  in.
  "I  think  someone  got  hold  of  one  of  your  spent bullets  when  you  were  qualifying  at  the  gun  range. They killed Peeks  with their gun, dug out  their bullet with   a   pair   of   forceps,   and   replaced   it   with   your bullet."
  Garnett   looked   surprised   and   disbelieving,   even though  this  would  show  him  to  be  innocent.  It  was too far-fetched, he was probably thinking. And it was far-fetched.  But  he  said  nothing.  He  just  waited  for Diane  to  explain  herself.
  "I wondered why your bullet wasn't a through-and­ through. Your gun has enough power to shoot a bullet all  the  way  through  the  head  at  the  close  distance from  which  Peeks  was  shot.  It  didn't-but  that  can happen.  Then  I  thought,  what  if  he  was  really  shot with a much smaller-caliber gun-something like a .22 would  be  powerful  enough  to  pass  through  the  skull bone and  lodge in  the brain, but  would not  be strong enough  to  break  through  the  bone  on  the  other  side of the head. And there was the question of why there was  so  much  damage  to  the  brain  tissue.  There  was no ricocheting of the bullet inside the skull cavity, just one  straight  path,  with  more  damage  to  the  brain  tis­ sue  than  you  would  expect.  That  can  happen  too.
"But  all  that  got  me  to  thinking.  I  began  with  the assumption  that  everyone  around  here  is  telling  the truth.  If  that's  the  case,  what  happened?"
"Do  you  have  any  evidence?"  said  Garnett.
The  wistfulness  in  his   voice  was  pitiful,  thought Diane.
"Jin  and  David  found  a  bloodstain  on  the  ?oor under  the  chest  in  the  foyer  where  Peeks'  body  was found.  It  had  a  pattern  in  it.  I  think  the  pattern  was made  by  a  pair  of  bloody  forceps."
She didn't  mention that ice  tongs and  pancake bat­ ter  make  a  similar  pattern.
"Pendleton  told  me  he  saw  Rikki  Gillinick  pocket something shiny at the crime scene. I think she found the   forceps.   Either   she   killed   Peeks   and   was   re­ claiming evidence she left behind, or Bryce did it and she  collected  the  forceps  for  him,  or  perhaps  to  keep and  hold  over  him.  If  that's  the  case,  the  forceps  are somewhere and we  can ?nd them. The forceps  in our crime  scene  kits  have  a  nice  solid,  shiny,  ?at  place  at the  top  that  is  great  for  ?ngerprints.  And  they  would leave  a  pattern  like  the  one  Jin  and  David  found  in the  blood."
Garnett  looked  a  little  less  skeptical.  In  fact,  he seemed  to  be  warming  up  to  the  idea.
"How  did  they  get  one  of  my  spent  bullets?"  he asked.
"At the shooting range," said Diane. "The logbook at  the  range  shows  that  the  last  two  times  you  were there,   the   only   other   person   shooting   was   Edgar Peeks.  Both  of  those  times  were  before  Jefferies  and Peeks were killed. I think Peeks retrieved your bullets from a  target after you left  because he and  his fellow conspirators  were  planning  to  kill  someone  and  to frame  you.  Somewhere  along  the  line  the  shit  really hit  the  fan  and  the  plans  changed."
"I  see  where  you're  going  with  this,"  Garnett  said.
"Let's  suppose  they  did  need  bullets  ?red  from  my gun.  If  it  were  me  doing  it,  I'd  ?nd  a  way  to  get  into the reference collection that's kept by Ballistics. They keep  spent bullets  from every  of?cer's gun  on ?le  for comparison  with  bullets  ?red  during  a  police  action."
"Good  idea,"  said  Diane.  "I  should  have  thought of  that."
"All  this  is  plausible,"  he  said.  "But  how  can  we prove  it?"
"Bryce and Rikki are the keys," she said. "We have to  ?nd  out  from  them  somehow."
Garnett  was  silent  a  moment,  quietly  nodding  his head. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
	Beverly  Connor   "At  least  this  gives  me  some  hope,"  he  said.  "I know how paranoids feel now. I was thinking that Izzy and  Janice  were  in  on  some  plot  against  me,  along with  everyone  else."
  Diane smiled. "Just keep the faith. We'll ?gure this thing  out."
  Garnett looked  better when she  left than  when she had  arrived-a  good  sign.  Diane  went  to  ?nd  Janice Warrick.
  Janice was at her desk going over some of the same crime photos that Diane had pored over earlier. Diane pulled  up  a  chair  and  sat  down.
  "Do  you  know  what  this  is?"  Janice  showed  her  a picture  of  the  bloodstain  under  the  hallway  chest.
  "I think so. That's why I wanted to talk with you." Diane went over the scenario again. It was received better  each  time  she  presented  it.  Frank  thought  she was  nuts  at  ?rst.  Garnett  was  cautiously  optimistic. Janice  was  excited  about  it.  Either  she  was  getting really  good  at  explaining  her  theory  or  Janice  knew something  Diane  didn't.
  "I  hope  this  is  helpful,"  said  Diane,  silently  urging her  to  share.
  "It is." Janice leaned closer. "One of the things we found  in  Peeks'  apartment  was  a  small  jar  of  spent bullets.  We  gave  them  to  Ballistics,  but  they  weren't a priority. It just looked like he collected used bullets. But  now ...  I'll  check  the  Ballistics  reference  collec­ tion  for  anything  missing."
Diane felt a remarkable sense of relief. Secretly, she herself  had  thought  she  was  a  little  nuts.
"I  spoke  with  Garnett,"  said  Diane.  "I  thought  he needed a boost, and I know you have to walk a pretty ?ne   line.   Actually,   I   do   too,   but   they   watch   you more  closely."
Janice's grin surprised Diane. She was all geared up to  defend  herself  for  meddling.
"I was also hoping Garnett would remember some­ thing. We'll see," added Diane. "Did you get a chance to  speak  with  Curtis  Crabtree?"
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "Haven't  been  able  to  ?nd  him.  We  have  an  APB out."  Janice  grinned  again.  "I  feel  this  coming  to  a good  end."
  Diane could see that a good end included commen­ dations  to  Janice  for  solving  Rosewood's  case  of  the decade.  Diane  hoped  it  came  to  pass.
  "I need to talk to Chief Monroe. Do you think he's in?"  said  Diane.
  Janice looked a little suspicious. Diane was sure Ja­ nice   didn't   want   her   thunder   stolen.   Diane   didn't blame  her.  Janice  had  to  work  hard  in  a  sometimes hostile  male-dominated  police  force  to  get  to  where she  was.  She  needed  credit  when  credit  was  due  her.
  "I think he is," said Janice. "He's been ?elding calls from  reporters.  Having  two  leaders  killed  within  a couple  of  days  has  brought  us  a  lot  of  attention.  It's very  high  pro?le.  The  chief  is  thinking  about  letting the  FBI  take  a  look  at  Jefferies'  computer."
  "Anyone   who   can   crack   it   will   be   good,"   said Diane. She didn't say that it would piss David off, not to  mention  Frank.
  Diane  went  upstairs  to  the  of?ce  of  the  chief  of police. Acting mayor Edward Van Ross was with him.
Chapter 40
"I'm  glad  you  came  by,"  said  Mayor  Van  Ross.  "I was  going  to  call."
Even  though  it  was  Chief  Monroe's  of?ce  and  the chief  was  sitting  behind  his  desk,  it  was  Edward  Van Ross who motioned to a chair and indicated for Diane to  sit  down.
"I  haven't  spoken  with  Vanessa  yet,"  said  Diane, taking  a  seat.  "Already,  the  'Danger,  Will  Robinson' part  of  the  contract  has  been  violated."
Edward smiled. "That has something to do with sci­ ence ?ction, right? Mother said you are a fan. We got a  lot  of  science  ?ction  at  the  family  reunion."
"So  I  understand,"  said  Diane.
He  seemed  bemused  by  the  whole  idea.
"Didn't  the  report  say  you're  having  to  rewire  the security cameras back into the grid Bryce had discon­ nected?" said Edward. "I think we can call this a grace period-adjusting  back  to  your  rule."
My rule. An interesting phrase, thought Diane. "The cameras  will  be  back  in  the  security  net  tomorrow," she said.
"What  I  came  to  talk  about  is  Izzy  Wallace,"  said Diane.  "I'd  like  him  to  be  part  of  my  team.  I  need someone to replace Jin in the crime lab, and Izzy has expressed  a  desire.  He's  also  been  very  helpful  and has  shown  a  willingness  to  learn  the  process."
Chief  Monroe  nodded  his  head  as  though  he  liked the  idea.  Diane  thought  it  was  probably  a  done  deal as  far  as  the  police  were  concerned.  She  suspected that   perhaps   Izzy   had   already   set   everything   in motion.
  "We  have  an  of?cer  who's  injured  and  we  want  to put  him  on  a  desk  job,"  said  Chief  Monroe,  "so  this will  be  a  good  move.  Izzy's  a  good  guy.  It's  a  shame what happened to his family. What happened to a lot of  families,"  he  added.
  "Yes,"  said  Diane.  "That  was  one  of  Rosewood's worst times." Worse than now, she thought, because it was  young  people  who  died  then.
  "I'll  put  through  the  paperwork,"  said  the  chief. Diane  went  back  downstairs.  She  spotted  Izzy  car­ rying  a  ?le  to  one  of  the  detectives  and  waved  to attract  his  attention.
  "I've  cleared  it  with  Monroe,"  she  said  when  he walked  over  to  her.  "If  you  want  to  back  out,  now's the  time,  before  he  gets  the  paperwork  in."
Izzy  grinned.  "When  do  I  start?"
"Chief  Monroe  will  let  you  know.  I  imagine  it  will be  right  away,"  she  said.
Izzy  rubbed  his  hands  together  and  looked  around the room grinning. Diane realized this was his end run around  the  politics  and  bureaucracy  that  hadn't  let him  become  a  detective.  He  wouldn't  be  a  detective now, exactly, but he would look like one and on occa­ sion  would  get  to  do  what  detectives  do.  She  really hoped  this  was  the  right  course  of  action.
Janice motioned for Diane to come to her desk. She held  a  phone  next  to  her  ear  and  looked  as  if  she was  waiting.
"At  ?rst  it  looked  like  all  Garnett's  reference  bul­ lets  were  accounted  for,"  Janice  said.  "But  the  clerk noticed  that  his  ?le  had  been  tampered  with.  I  told him  to  verify  all  the  bullets  again.  I  also  called  the gun  range  and  asked  if  Edgar  Peeks  liked  to  collect rounds.  He  did.  Interesting,  huh?"  said  Janice.  She looked  happy.
"This  looks  like  a  good  lead,  then,"  said  Diane.
Janice  nodded.  "I'll  let  you  know  when  I  ?nd  out anything."  She  got back  on  the  phone and  Diane  left for  the  museum.
  The  desktop  screen  with  all  the  little  rows  of  soft­ ware  icons  was  still  showing  on  Jefferies'  computer when she walked into her of?ce sitting room. It looked as  if  David  and  Frank  had  not  made  any  progress. But they both looked upbeat. There were several ?ash drives  lying  beside  the  computer.  She  pulled  up  a chair.  Frank  reached  over  and  squeezed  her  hand.
"The  two  of  you  look  happy,"  she  said.
"We're  making  progress.  David  and  I  pooled  our decryption   tools,"   said   Frank.   "David   has   written some  impressive  ones  himself."
"Is  that  what's  on  all  the  ?ash  drives?"  she  said.
Frank  nodded.  "We  had  an  idea.  Neva's  gone  over to  the  crime  lab  to  get  a  gadget  the  mayor  had."
"A  gadget?"  said  Diane.
"You'll  see,"  said  David.  "At  ?rst  we  thought  it was  a  webcam.  Actually  it  is  a  camera,  but  I  noticed the  other  day  it  is  also  something  else.  In  the  mean­ time,  Frank  and  I  have  been  able  to  get  into  several programs.  Unfortunately,  none  of  which  does  us  any good unless we want to play solitaire or work in Pho­ toshop.  We  can't  get  into  word  processing,  spread­ sheets,  calendars,  or  anything  that  might  have  useful information  in  it."
Neva  came  through  the  door  carrying  a  box  and handed  it  to  David.  He  opened  it  and  took  out  what indeed  looked  to  be  a  webcam.  The  labeling  on  the box  said  it  was  an  iris  scanner.
"Iris  scanner?"  said  Diane.
"The  mayor  liked  gadgets.  He  had  a  lot  of  them.
Most of them we left in the house, but we brought all his  computer  gadgets  here.  The  picture  on  the  box looks  like  a  webcam  and  I  didn't  actually  read  the box. Or rather, it didn't register until now. Frank and I were talking about all the kinds of security measures that could be in effect, and it just hit me," said David.
"Did  you  get  the  photographs  too?"
"Of course," said Neva. She handed Frank a folder.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
"Photographs?"  said  Diane.
"Of  all  the  principals  involved,"  said  David.
  Neva pulled up another chair, and they all sat around the  computer.
"Where  is  Rikki?"  asked  Diane.
"She  requested  the  day  off  to  show  a  friend  the museum," said Neva. "David, being in charge in your absence,  gave  it  to  her.  She's  probably  lurking  some­ where  here  in  the  museum.  The  crime  lab  is  being cleaned.  Jin agreed  to  babysit  it while  TechClean's  in there  doing  their  thing."
David connected the camera cable to the USB port and immediately the software  came up on the screen.
"This  is  good,"  David  said.
"Very  good,"  said  Frank.
"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  said  Diane.
"We're  going  to  see  if  the  camera  will  recognize Jefferies'  iris  pattern,"  said  Frank.
"It  doesn't  seem  like  it  would  be  much  use  as  a security device if  you can use a picture  instead of the real  person,"  said  Diane.
"It's  not  made  for  unsupervised  applications,"  said Frank. "If the pictures are high-resolution enough, we should  get  some  action."  He  smiled  at  her.
Frank   apparently   enjoyed   this   part   of   his   job- decryption. In that respect, he and David were two of a  kind.
David  selected  a  full-face  glossy  publicity  photo  of Jefferies.  He put  one eye  in the  photo in  front  of the camera  lens.  A  large  image  of  the  eye  appeared  in one window of the software. Another window printed a  message  and  played  accompanying  music-the  ?rst line  of  the  song  "Bad  Boys."
"That's  interesting,"  said  Frank.
"Are  we  making  progress?"  asked  Neva.
"We  are,"  said  David,  grinning.  "We  now  have  es­ tablished  a  dialogue  of  sorts."  He  rubbed  his  hands together.
It  reminded  Diane  of  Izzy.  She  told  them  she  had arranged  for  Izzy  to  join  the  team.
	Beverly  Connor   "Did I hear someone mention my name?" said Izzy, walking  through  the  door.
  "I suppose Andie will let just anybody in here," said Frank. "You're going to have to speak with her, Diane." Frank  shook  his  hand  and  congratulated  him.  Izzy pulled  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of David. All the team were there now except Jin. Diane didn't   think   another   person   would   ?t   around   the computer.
They  tried  a  photograph  of  Peeks.  Same  message.
"What does this mean?" said Diane. "I don't think this  is  how  the  mayor  would  have  it  set  up."
"Maybe  you  have  to  hold  it  longer,"  said  Neva.
"Don't  you  have  to  wait  several  seconds?  And  isn't there  supposed  to  be  some  sort  of  laser  scanning  the eye?"
"That's  what  I  was  wondering,"  said  Diane.
"You're thinking of retinal scans," said David. "Not the  same  thing.  A  retinal  scan  shines  a  low-energy infrared  light  into  the  eye  and  reads  the  pattern  of blood  vessels.  We  are  just  reading  the  pattern  of  the iris.  It  only  takes  a  second."
"Still,  this  thing  doesn't  sound  friendly  to  Jefferies or  Peeks,"  said  Diane.
"No,"  said  Frank,  "it  doesn't."
David  tried  the  photograph  of  Peeks  again.  Same message.
There  was  silence  around  the  table.
"Well,  watcha  gon'  do?"  asked  Neva,  giggling.
"It's still progress," said David, unfazed. "We know it's reacting to them. I may be able to use this program to  worm  my  way  into  some  of  the  others."
Diane  got  up  and  looked  over  David's  shoulder  at the  readout,  as  if  maybe  there  was  something  in  the lyrics  of  the  song  that  would  help.  As  she  leaned  in closer,  the  readout  changed,  as  did  the  audio.
"Hello, Dr. Fallon. I've been waiting for you," it said in  that  quirky  machine  voice.
Chapter 41
"What   the   hell   is   that?"   said   Izzy,   recovering   his voice ?rst.
  They all turned to look at Diane. She stepped back and  stared  at  the  screen.
  "This  isn't  normal,  is  it?"  said  Izzy.  "I  know  I haven't  been  here  long,  and  I  don't  know  a  thing about  computers,  but  is  this-normal?"
"Okay,  this  is  weird,"  said  David.  "Really  weird."
"It  scanned  my  iris?"  asked  Diane.  "It  knows  me?
How?"
"Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  the  voice.
"Well,  I  am,"  said  Diane,  though  she  didn't  know to  whom.  "What  does  this  mean?"  She  looked  from Frank to David as if they had done this as some kind of  joke.
"We didn't do this," said David. "Honest. It knows you."  He  gestured  to  the  machine.
"What   does   that   mean   exactly-it   knows   me?" said  Diane.
She  looked  at  the  scanning  camera.  It  now  looked like  a  little  creature  with  a  big  head  and  one  big  eye and  a  neck  sitting  on  small  shoulders.  She  almost  ex­ pected  it  to  tell  her  she  was  going  to  be  assimilated.
"Let's  ask,"  said  Frank.
David  touched  a  key  and  a  screen  popped  up  for him  to  type  in.  "How  do  you  know  me?"  he  asked.
"You  are  someone  I  trust  with  the  information  that I  have,"  said  the  voice.  "If  you  are  hearing  me,  then my  plan  worked.  It  was  a  long  shot."
"Talky  little  fellow,"  muttered  Izzy.
"Who  are  you?"  typed  in  David.
"Who  do  you  think  I  am?"  said  the  voice.
"Is  it  alive?"  asked  Neva.
"That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  said  Izzy.  "Is  there someone  somewhere  listening  to  us?"
"Could  it  be  bugged?"  asked  Diane.
"No,"  said  David.  "You  know  how  I  check  things like  that."
Izzy  looked  quizzically  at  David.
"Ask  it  what  it  wants,"  said  Diane.
Frank  laughed.  "Do  you  know  how  that  sounds?"
"Yeah,"  said  Diane,  "I  do."
David  typed  in  the  question.  What  do  you  want?
"I want to give Diane Fallon my information. I know you  must have  been  looking for  it if  you  got this  far," said  the  voice.
"Jin  is  going  to  kick  himself  for  not  being  here," said  Neva.
Frank  got  up  and  went  to  his  laptop,  which  was sitting  on  the  coffee  table.  He  started  typing.
"What  information?"  asked  Diane.
"Do  you  want  to  type?"  said  David  getting  up.  "It wants  to  talk  with  you  anyway."
Diane  sat  down  in  David's  place  at  the  keyboard.
What  information  do  you  have?  she  typed.
"Ah . . . that is the question, isn't it?" it said-which sounded  really  strange  in  the  synthesized  voice.
"I  have  two  sets  of  information  for  you.  The  ?rst  is a list  of names  and businesses. I  think you  know what I'm  talking  about.  Please  be  kind.  Not  everyone  is  a willing  participant,"  it  said.
Computer  people?  typed  in  Diane.
"Yes, I think," said the voice. "But it would be easier if  you  would  write  a  complete  sentence."
Is  this  a  list  of  hackers?  typed  in  Diane.
"Some  of  them  are  hackers,"  it  said.
  Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of  their  country,  Diane  typed.
"I  don't  understand,"  said  the  voice.  "Please  ex­ plain."
"What  was  that  about?"  asked  David.
"It seems awfully smart," said Diane. "I just wanted to  type  in  a  non  sequitur  and  see  what  happened."
Give  me  the  list,  please,  typed  Diane.
"Look  me  in  the  eye,"  said  the  voice.
Diane  looked  at  the  camera.
A  list  of  names  scrolled  by  quickly.  She  started  to say  that  it  was  too  fast  when  she  heard  the  sound  of her  printer  on  her  desk  in  the  adjoining  room  start to  print.
"How are you doing that?" she typed and said aloud.
David  laughed.  "You  notice  she  didn't  ask  us,"  he said  to  Frank.
Frank  looked  up  from  his  keyboard  and  smiled.  "I noticed."
"You  have  a  local  area  network.  I  just  tapped  into it,"  it  said.  "It's  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about."
Frank  got  up  and  went  to  the  printer  in  the  other room. He came back with several single-spaced pages of  print.
He  ?ipped  through  the  pages.  "I  know  some  of these  names,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  "There  are a lot of names here, and they're working in very data- sensitive  places. No  wonder identity  thefts and  cyber­ crimes  are  up  around  here.  They  will  be  up  all  over the country. If the people are good-and I know many of  them  are-they  can  get  at  information  all  over  the world through  these businesses and  institutions  alone."
David  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  printout.
"Wow, there's your case right there." He looked at the  computer.  "Way  to  go . . .  cyberguy,"  he  said.
Why  are  you  doing  this?  typed  Diane.
"To  keep  people  from  getting  their  life  savings  sto­ len,"  said  the  computer.  "People  can  lose  their  home and  not  even  know  what  happened."
	Beverly  Connor   "You notice how comfortable Diane is talking to a com­ puter," said David. "She probably thinks it's an alien." Diane  ignored  him.
  "Well,  I  think  it's  fascinating,"  said  Neva.  "I  want to  know  if  there's  a  real  person  on  the  other  end  of this.  You  know,  like  instant  mail."
"That's  a  good  idea,"  said  Diane.
Neva  wants  to  know  if  you  are  a  real  person  on another  computer  talking  to  us,  she  typed.
She  made  it  a  more  complex  sentence  on  purpose to  see  what  kind  of  answer  she  would  get.
"Hello,  Neva,"  said  the  voice.
"Oh,  my  God,"  said  Neva.
"I  am  not  a  person  on  another  computer.  I  am  in the  computer,"  said  the  voice.
"This  is  unbelievable,"  said  Neva.
Can  we  believe  you?  asked  Diane.
"Yes.  But  that  doesn't  help  you,  does  it?  I  could  be lying,"  it  said.
You  sound  real,  typed  Diane,  who  had  decided  it was  a  person  after  all  and  felt  vaguely  disappointed, like  she  would  prefer  to  be  talking  to  HAL.
"I  know.  That's  the  beauty  of  it,"  it  said.
Do  you  know  who  killed  Jefferies  and  Peeks?  typed Diane.
"No.  But  you  should have  asked  a  better  question," said  the  voice.  "Remember,  I  am  a  computer."
I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  typed  Diane.
"Good,"  said  the  voice.
Are  you  lying?  typed  Diane.
"I am exactly not lying," said the voice on the com­ puter.  "Don't you  want  to  ask what  other  information I  have?"
I'm sorry. I do want to know what other information you  have,  typed  Diane.
"You  are  so  polite.  That's  nice,"  said  the  voice.
I  think  you  are  real,  typed  Diane.
"That is the nicest compliment you could have given me,"  said  the  voice.
"I'm  not  getting  anything  going  out  or  coming  in,"
SCATTERED  GRAVES said  Frank,  looking  at  the  screen  on  his  laptop.  "My guess is the guy is really good, or he's telling the truth and  it's  a  program."
What  is  the  other  information  you  want  to  give  me? typed  Diane.
"I want to give you bank account numbers," it said.
"I  think  you  know  whose."
Give  me  the  numbers,  typed  Diane.
"Look  me  in  the  eye,"  said  the  voice.
Diane  looked  into  the  camera.  On  the  screen  a  set of numbers scrolled by with the names of banks beside them.  Just  at  a  glance,  they  looked  like  offshore  ac­ counts.
"I'll  take  those."
They  all  looked  up  sharply  toward  the  new  voice.
Rikki  Gillinick  was  standing  in  the  doorway  between Diane's  of?ce  and  her  sitting  room.  She  was  holding a  gun.
Chapter 42
"Rikki,"  said Diane,  "I  thought  you were  off  today."
"I  knew  you  guys  were  up  to  something  and  if  I followed,  I'd  ?nd  my  treasure.  Give  me  the  list  of bank  account  numbers  now."
Rikki  carried  a  book  bag  on  her  arm;  it  looked empty.  Diane  wondered  how  long  a  list  she  was  ex­ pecting.  Rikki moved  inside  the  room and  kicked  the door  shut  behind  her.
Everyone  stayed  where  they  were  around  the  com­ puter,  eyeing  the  gun.
"How  did  you  get  a  gun  into  the  museum?"  said Diane.  She  might  need  to  have  a  few  words  with  her security  personnel.
"Easy.  A  little  chink  in  your  security  a  while  back.
When  Bryce  was  still  running  the  crime  lab  and  had his own guard, all he had to do was bring the gun into the  museum  from  the  crime  lab  side  and  ?nd  a  place to  hide  it,"  she  said.
"Why  would  he  do  that?"  said  Diane.
"You  need  to  think  about  that  real  hard,"  said Rikki.  "Now,  quit  stalling.  I  want  the  numbers."
"Is this the money Jefferies made in his little cyber­ crime  venture?"  asked  Diane.
"Yes. And it's not so little. I'm serious about getting those  account  numbers-about  three  hundred  million dollars'   worth   of   serious.   They're   the   only   reason Bryce  and  I  stuck  around."
  "That's a lot of money," said Diane. "Did Jefferies make  all  of  it  with  his  cybergangs?"
  "Mostly.  His  Atlanta  business  does  well,  but  not that  well,"  said  Rikki.
  "How  do  you  expect  to  get  out  of  the  building?" said Diane. "Do you plan to take one of us hostage?" Rikki  laughed.  "I  have  the  best  hostage  of  all," she  said  looking  around  the  room.  "Bryce  saw  peo­ ple  as  mice  he  could poke  a  stick  at and  they  would go  scurrying.  I  told  him  he  was  making  one  mistake after  another  dealing  with  you,  but  he  wouldn't  lis­ ten.  Typical  male.  But  I'm  not  that  way.  I  get  to know  people.  And  I  know  that  more  than  anything, you  will  protect  the  museum.  You  don't  want  me even  ?ring  a  gun  into  the  air  on  museum  property, and certainly not ?ring inside the building. You want no  danger  and  no  bad  publicity;  that's  why  you're going  to  let  me  just  walk  out  of  here  with  my  bank numbers  and  my  gun.  You'll  be  willing  to  take  the chance that I'll be apprehended  when I'm well away from  the  museum.  I  know  this  about  you,  just  like  I know  my  mother  will  always  choose  the  wrong  men to  shack  up  with  and  my  father  will  always  be  a drunk."
"You're   smarter   than   we   gave   you   credit   for," said  Diane.
Rikki  smiled.  "It's  the  blond  hair.  Fools  'em  every time."
"I  suppose  I  don't  need  to  tell  you  that  you  won't get  far  off  museum  property,"  said  Diane.
"I have an escape plan," said Rikki. "Now, give me the  numbers."
"They're in the printer tray in my of?ce," said Diane, nodding toward the locked door. "That's where this"- she  gestured  to  the  computer-"this  thing  printed  the list."
"How convenient. I knew you would crack the secu­ rity. Bryce in his stupidity wanted to get the computer himself.  Like  he  could  have  broken  the  encryption.  I knew David  could-given time. And  for the  record, I know  you  guys  were  on  to  me.  I  knew  you  weren't going  to  keep  me  on."
  "For  the  record,"  said  Diane.  "We  knew  that  you knew.  We  ?gured  there  must  be  a  really  big  payoff."
"You  see  now  that  there  was,"  said  Rikki.
She opened the door behind her. "I'm going out to your  of?ce.  If  the  list  is  not  there,  I'm  going  to  be pissed,  and  you  don't  want  that."
"Before you go," said Diane, "since you're clearing things  up,  did  you  kill  Jefferies  and  Peeks?"
"No, I didn't. I liked Jefferies. He was an odd duck.
He   was   a   hard-ass   for   sure,   but   he   was   good   to women.  He  gave  me  the  watch,"  she  said.
"He  gave  a  lot  of  people  watches,"  said  Diane.
"I  know.  But  mine  was  the  most  expensive,"  said Rikki. She backed out into Diane's of?ce, still holding the  gun.  She  glanced  at  the  printer  and  back  at  the group  in  the  sitting  room.  She  reached  for  the  paper in  the  printer  tray,  looked  at  it,  and  smiled.
"Three   hundred   million   dollars.   All   mine.   Now, David,  I  want  you  to  take  the  hard  disk  out  of  the machine  and  put  it  in  this  bag."  She  threw  the  book bag over to them. "And please hurry. You don't have to  be  careful."
Diane nodded to David, and he began to dismantle the  computer.
"It wasn't Bryce who tried to break in, I would have recognized  him,"  said  Diane.  "Was  it  Curtis?"
"The  two  of  them  cooked  it  up.  I  told  them  they were being stupid, but they wouldn't listen. Curtis was sure  he  could  just  waltz  in  and  take  it,  after  I  told them  the  lab  was  closing  down  for  repairs.  Bryce  ex­ plained to him about the guard. I told him who it was.
And  I'm  sorry  about  that.  Curtis  is  a  loose  cannon.
He  almost  messed  everything  up."
"Where  is  Curtis  now?"  said  Diane.
"Don't   know.   He   said   he   had   his   own   plan.   I haven't seen him since. Personally, I don't care where he  is."
  "You  may  think  you  have  a  good  getaway  plan," said Frank, who sat leaning forward with his forearms on  his  knees  and  his  hands  clasped  in  front  of  him like  this  kind  of  thing  happened  to  him  all  the  time and  was  no  big  deal.  "But  it's  not  easy  to  get  away clean. Your best bet would be to simply give yourself up.  I  don't  think  you  were  directly  involved  in  the murders."
  "You're  a  policeman,  aren't  you?  Let  me  worry about  my  plan,"  she  said.  "Have  you  got  that  thing out  yet?"  she  said  to  David.
"Just  a  minute,"  said  David.
When the screen to Jefferies' computer went blank, the ?rst thing Diane thought of was who she had been talking  to.  He  was  gone  now.  Oddly,  it  made  her  a little  sad.
"Pick up the book bag and put the hard disk in it," said  Rikki.
David put the disk in the bag and held it out to her.
"It's  heavy,"  he  said.
"Set  it  down,"  she  told  him.
David  complied.  Rikki  picked  it  up.
"It's  not  that  heavy,"  she  said.  "I  appreciate  your cooperation.  Diane,  remember,  I  will  ?re  the  gun  in the museum. I know you have security guards and they have guns, but they will be very reluctant to use them around  visitors.  Just  let  me  leave  and  then  you  can try to ?nd me," she said. "If I see any of you coming after me, I will ?re the gun. Now, I really hate to run, but  I  gotta  go."
Diane  nodded.  "You're  free  to  go."
"I'm  glad  we  have  an  agreement."
Rikki  closed  the  door  as  she  backed  out.  Diane heard  her  say  good-bye  to  Andie  as  she  left.
When  Rikki  was  gone,  Diane  started  for  her  com­ puter  in  her  of?ce.
"You  want  us  to  go  after  her?"  said  Izzy.
"No,"  said  Diane.  "She  had  me  pegged  right.  I won't   take   a   chance   on   her   ?ring   a   gun   in   the museum."
	Beverly  Connor   When  Diane  was  at  her  computer,  she  called  up  a program  that  allowed  her  to  see  the  security  camera feeds on her monitor. Four screens came up, each in its  own  window.  Diane  caught  sight  of  Rikki  as  she was  going  out  the  door.  Diane  switched  to  the  park­ ing  lot  cameras  and  watched  her  get  in  an  orange Geo  and  drive  down  the  hill,  leaving  the  museum parking  lot.
Diane  picked  up  the  phone  and  called  the  police.
"And  you  just  let  her  go  with  the  numbers?"  said Janice.
"She had a gun," said Diane. "There are too many innocent  people  who  could  have  been  hurt.  I'm  sure you  understand."
"Yes, I suppose so. You say she's in an orange Geo.
Did  you  get  the  plates?"
"No,  that  will  take  a little  ?nesse  with  the  comput­ ers.  I  thought  you  would  want  to  know  right  away.
She  can't  have  gotten  far."
"Of  course,"  said  Janice.  "We're  on  it  right  now."
"Tell  them  to  block  all  the  exits  to  the  museum," said  Frank.
"Hold  the  phone  a  minute,"  she  said  to  Janice.
"She'll  be  gone  by  then."
"Maybe  not,"  said  Frank.  He  took  the  phone  from Diane.  "Quicker  this  way,"  he  said,  smiling.
"Warrick,"  he  said.  "This  is  Frank  Duncan.  She may  be  changing  cars  before  she  gets  off  museum property.  There  are  several  access  roads  around  the museum.   Have   your   people   get   to   those   roads- quickly. Diane will have her security on the way too."
Diane  called  her  security  and  told  them  basically what  Frank  had  relayed  to  Janice.  She  put  down  the phone  and  looked  at  Frank.
"What  makes  you  think  that's  what  she's  going  to do?"  said  Diane.
"She said she had a plan," said Frank. "What's that movie that always cracks you up-Tremors? And what is  it  about  a  plan  that  guy  says  that  you  just  love?"
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  " 'Running's   not   a   plan;   running's   what   you   do when  a  plan  fails,' "  said  Diane.
  "Well,  getting  out  on  the  highway  in  a  car  she knows   you   will   have   seen   is   not   a   plan.   That's running."
Izzy  laughed  out  loud.
Chapter 43
Diane, Frank, and Izzy were in Frank's car trailing the museum  security  SUV.  Frank  and  Diane  were  in  the front  seat,  Izzy  in  the  back.  Frank  followed  at  a  dis­ tance.  They  didn't  want  to  capture  Rikki  themselves, but  they  did  want  to  be  extra  eyes  looking  for  her.
  "I  think  she'll  use  that  old  roadway  down  by  the river,"  said  Frank.
  He was speaking of the Dekanogee River-which was the  river  referred  to  in  the  RiverTrail  Museum.  He turned  off  onto  the  old  dirt  road,  leaving  the  security vehicle to cover the more heavily used access roads.
"Why  do  you  think  she  would  come  this  way?" asked  Diane.
"She  wants  to  dispose  of  the  hard  disk  so  no  one else  can   get  the   numbers,"  said  Frank.   "And  she needs to get rid of it as soon as possible. I suspect she intends to throw the disk into the river. This is a good place   to   do   that   and   a   secluded   place   to   change vehicles."
The  woods  were  dense  in  this  section  of  the  prop­ erty, and the roadbed was old and rough. The bottom of  Frank's  Camaro  scraped  the  ground  in  the  deep ruts,  and  the  car  bounced  around  badly  enough  that Diane  tightened  her  seat  belt  and  pressed  the  ?at  of her  hand  on  the  roof  above  her  to  hold  herself  in place.
"I have to tell you guys, my ?rst day on the job has been  a  real  kicker,"  said  Izzy.
  "It's  not  over  yet,"  said  Diane.  "What's  that?"  she said,  pointing  toward  some  bushes  just  ahead.
  Through  the  tangle  of  undergrowth  Diane  thought she  saw  a  glint  from  a  mirror  and  a  ?ash  of  orange. Frank slowed the car as they approached. Diane rolled down  her  window  so  she  could  see  better  and  listen for  sounds.
  Frank   drove  slowly   past  the   place  where   Diane thought  she  saw  the  car.  It  was  there  in  the  bushes, only   half   concealed.   He   stopped   the   Camaro   and called  in  their  location.  Izzy  jumped  out,  pulled  his gun, and ran in a crouch to the rear of the Geo. Cau­ tiously, gun at the ready, he took a quick look through the  windows  of  the  vehicle  and  scanned  the  area.  He turned  toward  them  and  shook  his  head.
"Up  ahead,"  said  Diane.  "I  hear  a  car."
Izzy  heard  it  too.  He  ran  back  and  jumped  in  the backseat.
"I  think  she's  abandoned  it  all  right,"  he  said.  He reached out his window and patted the roof of Frank's car.  "Let's  go,"  he  said.
Frank  looked  over  at  Diane  and  smiled.  He  drove the  narrow  road  at  a  speed  greater  than  Diane  felt comfortable  with,  but  she  said  nothing  and  held  on.
Ahead of them they saw the rear of a dark blue Saturn just  going  out  of  sight  around  a  curve  in  the  road.
Frank  drove  faster  and  the  ride  got  bumpier.
As  they  rounded  the  curve,  the  Saturn  was  just ahead.  The  road  was  smoother  here,  mainly  dirt,  and the  blue  sedan  was  accelerating  and  kicking  up  dust.
The  Saturn  drove  out  of  sight  again.
Frank  sped  up.
They popped over a low rise and suddenly they saw it  again.  It  was  backing  fast  toward  them,  running from  police  and  museum  security  cars  coming  fast, head-on. Frank slid to a stop. Diane braced for impact.
The  Saturn's  brake  lights  were  glaring  red;  the  car skidded  to  a  stop  just  inches  before  it  hit  the  front end  of  Frank's  Camaro.
Izzy  jumped  out  of  the  car,  leaving  the  door  open, and  drew  his  gun-as  did  Frank.  Diane  opened  her door  and  stayed  behind  it.  She  had  no  gun.
  She heard Janice's voice calling for the occupant of the  car  to  come  out,  hands  on  head.
  Diane  watched  the  person  sitting  behind  the  steer­ ing wheel in the car. She saw black hair, she thought, but it was hard to see much with the glare of the sun on  the  window.
Janice  repeated  the  command.
The  door  opened  and  Rikki  stepped  out,  hands  in the air. She was wearing a black wig. That was a relief.
The thought had crossed Diane's mind that perhaps they had   disturbed   some   innocent   nature   lovers   who thought they were being chased by maniacs in a white Camaro.  Janice  spread  Rikki  against  the  car,  patted her  down,  and  put  handcuffs  on  her.  Only  then  did Diane  stand  up  and  Frank  and  Izzy  let  their  guards down.
Rikki  cast  a  wicked  glance  back  at  Diane.
  Diane,  Frank,  and  Izzy  went  to  the  interrogation room  at  the  police  station  where  Rikki  was  taken. They stood and looked through the two-way mirror at her sitting with her hands on top of the desk, beating out  a  tune  with  her  palms.
  "She  doesn't  look  too worried,"  said  Izzy.  "Why  is that,  I  wonder?"
  "She  has  a  Plan  B,"  said  Diane.  "What  I  wonder is, did she have time to shift the money in the offshore accounts  to  some  other  bank  account?  How  hard  is that to do? Can you do it with a cell? A BlackBerry? An  iPod?"  she  asked,  smiling.
Frank  laughed.  "You  can  do  it  with  a  cell  or  a BlackBerry.  It  would  be  hard  with  an  iPod."
"Is  it  dif?cult  to  track?"  asked  Diane.
"Depends,"  said  Frank.  "Could  be  very  dif?cult.
Even  if  you  ?nd  it,  you  have  to  prove  the  money doesn't belong to the person who opened the account.
Not  easy  with  some  of  the  offshore  banking  laws."
"What's  her  Plan  B?"  asked  Izzy.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  Janice  Warrick  entered  the  interview  room  and  sat down  opposite  Rikki.
  The  observation  room  door  opened  and  Chief  of Police Buford Monroe entered. He stood beside Diane and  the  others,  nodding  to  them.
  "Finally   getting   somewhere,"   he   said.   "You   say your  guy  cracked  the  encryption?"
  "Yes,  David and  Frank,"  said  Diane. "It  had  some very  unusual  aspects  to  it."
"I'll  be  anxious  to  hear  about  it,"  he  said.
"We  need  to  track  down  who  encrypted  it,"  said Diane.
Janice  started  speaking.  Diane  watched  Rikki.  She didn't  look  particularly  de?ant,  and  so  far  she  hadn't asked  for  a  lawyer.
"So tell me," said Janice. "When did you decide to kill  Jefferies  and  Peeks?"
Rikki  smiled.  "I  didn't  kill  anyone.  I  swear."  She crossed  her  heart  with  her  right  index  ?nger.
"You   didn't,   yet   you   knew   about   the   money?" said  Janice.
"Well,  yeah,  we  all  knew  about  the  money."
"We  all?"  said  Janice.
"People  close  to  Jefferies."
"If  you  didn't  kill  them,  who  did?"  asked  Janice.
"For  that,  I  need  a  deal  and  a  lawyer,"  Rikki  said.
"A  deal?"  said  Janice.
But Monroe knocked on the glass. Rikki looked up, smiled,  and  waved  as  if  she  could  see  them  on  the other  side.
"She's  asked  for  a  lawyer,"  said  Monroe.  "I  might ought  to  have  had  one  of  the  more  senior  detectives question  her."
"Wouldn't  have  made  any  difference,"  said  Diane.
"Rikki's  working  on  Plan  B."
Diane  and  the  others  waited  for  Rikki's  lawyer  to show  up.  Diane  tried  to  get  a  moment  to  speak  to Janice,   but   she   was   busy   running   back   and   forth.
Looking  for  ducks  to  get  in  a  row,  Diane  supposed.
District  Attorney  Riddmann  showed  up  ?rst.  He 	Beverly  Connor was another bureaucrat whom Diane had managed to offend  with  her  unpolished  diplomatic  skills.  But  he was  friendly  enough.  He  commented  sympathetically on Diane's face. She looked forward to the day when the  bruises  would  be  gone.
  Diane  introduced  the  DA  to  Frank,  but  they  knew each  other  already.  Frank  apparently  could  also  have some unpolished diplomatic skills on occasion when it came  to  Riddmann.
"You're  out  of  uniform,  aren't  you,  Izzy?"  Ridd­ mann  said,  patting  him  on  the  arm.
"Nope.  I'm  working  with  the  crime  lab  now.  Quite exciting it is too. I had no idea what those folks were into over there," he said. "Why, decryption alone was worth  the  price  of  the  ticket."  He  grinned  broadly.
Riddmann  nodded  as  if  he  understood  what  Izzy was talking about. It was awkward all the way around.
Riddmann  was  not  an  easy  man  to  make  small  talk with, even had Diane been good at small talk herself.
Janice  joined  them.
"Sorry,  I've  been  so  busy.  You'd  think  someone who  has  just  stolen  so  much  money  could  afford  her own  lawyer.  The  judge  appointed  LaCroix.  She'll  be here  shortly."
"You  think  this  will  crack  open  the  case?"  asked Riddmann.
Janice  shrugged.  She  looked  at  Diane.  "Do  you know  what  she  has  up  her  sleeve?"
"She  wants  to  trade  Bryce  in  exchange  for  a  deal for  herself,"  said  Diane.
Janice  raised  her  eyebrows.
"Does she have  anything to deal with?"  said Ridd­ mann. "I understand she's been caught red-handed, as it  were."
"She  has  the  forceps  Bryce  used  to  take  the  bullet out  of  Edgar  Peeks'  skull,  as  well  as  the  bullet,"  said Diane.  "And  quite  a  story,  I  would  imagine."
Chapter 44
Rikki's  lawyer  came  bustling  in.  She  was  a  middle- aged woman, heavyset, with chunky turquoise jewelry and black frizzy hair. Riddmann didn't like her, mainly because  he  often  lost  to  her,  Diane  knew.
  Patsy  LaCroix  took  one  look  at  Diane  and  put  her hand  over  her  mouth.  "Did  the  police  do  that  to you?"  she  said.
  "Your  client  is  in  here,"  said  Janice.  She  ushered her  into  the  interrogation  room.
  Diane thought she probably ought to go back to the museum,  but  she  was  curious  to  see  how  this  turned out.  She  sat  down  with  Frank  on  a  bench  out  in  the hallway.  Izzy  went  to  visit  friends  in  the  department, no  doubt  to  tell  them  of  his  adventures  so  far.  Ridd­ mann and Janice stood talking with the chief of police, probably  planning  strategies,  thought  Diane.
  "What did you  make of the . . .  I don't know what to  call  him,"  said  Diane.
"AI, instant messenger?" said Frank. "I'm not sure if he was real or not either. I didn't detect any outside communications. What did I think of him? Interesting.
Very  intriguing."
"Someone  must  have  gotten  a  photograph  of  me and  programmed  it  into  the  computer  for  the  camera to  recognize.  Is  that  how  it  was  done?"  said  Diane.
"There are publicity photographs of me available from the  museum.  It  would  be  easy  enough  to  get  one."
Frank  nodded.  "It  had  to  be  a  high-resolution  pic­ ture.  Publicity  photographs  are  good  for  that.  They are  usually  high  res."
  "When?"   said   Diane.   "When   would   they   have done  that?"
Frank looked at her as if just recognizing the prob­ lem.  "I  don't  know,"  he  said.
"The  computer  was  at  the  mayor's  house  until  he was  killed.  After  that  they  would  not  have  access  to it.  At  the  time  of  his  death  I  wasn't  the  director  of the  crime  lab.  So,  why  me?  Why  would  they  think I  would  have  access  to  the  crime  scene  evidence?" she  said.
"That's  a  good  question,"  he  said.  "A  very  good question."
Frank sat thinking for several moments. "Where was the computer taken  after it left the  mayor's house?"
"The  police  station.  They  tried  to  get  into  it  but couldn't  get  past  the  encryption.  Then  it  was  brought to the crime lab, where it sat on a shelf. It went from there  to  my  museum  of?ce,"  said  Diane.
"Someone had remote access to it every time it was turned  on,"  said  Frank.
"How?"  asked  Diane.
"Its wireless network adapter. It could connect itself to whatever computer network it detected. The police station  and  your  museum  both  have  local  area  net­ works  with  wireless  connections,"  said  Frank.
"But doesn't each computer have to  be . . . I don't know ...  don't  they  have  to  have  a  special  card  to work  with  each  network?"  said  Diane.
"Not  with  wireless  connections,"  said  Frank.  "All the fellow had to do was defeat the security regulating wireless  access  to  the  network.  For  an  experienced hacker,  that's  a  piece  of  cake,  even  for  your  museum network . . . No offense. Whenever Jefferies' computer was turned on, it could automatically connect itself to the  nearest  wireless  access  point  and  send  out  a  ping to  the  hacker's  computer."
"A  ping?"  said  Diane.
"Computers  talk  to  each  other  in  the  background constantly. A ping is kind of like one computer ringing the  other's  doorbell  and  saying,  Hi,  it's  me.  I'm  here, you  there?"
"Its  doorbell?"  asked  Diane.
"A  metaphor,"  said  Frank.
"An  analogy,"  said  Diane.
"A  good  one.  I  know  how  you  hate  bad  ones.  The point is, for as long as Jefferies' computer was turned on,  our  clever  fellow  could  put  anything  on  or  take anything off of it that he wanted-programs, data ?les, photos  of  your  iris,  incriminating  lists ...  anything."
Frank  grinned.  He  seemed  almost  gleeful  over  his analysis.
"Is nothing safe?" said Diane. The potential for in­ vasion  of  privacy  was  staggering  to  her.
"Not a lot. You need good protections. If I were you, I'd let David take a look at your museum systems. He is  really  good."
"Frank,  please  don't  put  him  on  your  list,"  said Diane  suddenly.  David  would  hate  the  very  idea.
He  reached  over  and  squeezed  her  arm.  "I  won't.
Don't  worry."
She looked at Frank. He wouldn't, she thought. An­ other  thing  she  liked  about  Frank.  He  was  decent.
Diane thought a moment. "So it was someone who wanted  to  make  things  right.  It's  probably  someone on  the  list  of  hackers,"  she  said.
"He  or  she  probably  took  their  name  off  the  list," said  Frank.
"So  we  can't  ?nd  out  who  it  is,"  said  Diane.
Frank  studied the  wall  opposite  their bench,  lost  in thought.  "I  can  look  at  the  list  and  see  if  there  are any  businesses  left  off  that  should  have  been  a  prime target-have  a  look  at  their  employees.  I  can  see  if there  are  any  hackers  that  I  know  about  who  aren't on  the  list,"  he  said.  "We  know  Edgar  Peeks  was  re­ cruiting  at  university  job  fairs.  That's  not  uncommon; many  agencies  recruit  employees  that  way-easier  to ?nd  the  kind  of  employee  you  want.  The  university placement  of?ces  should  have  records  on  their  fairs."
	Beverly  Connor   Diane sat up. "Could that guy, Malcolm Chen, have done  it  before ..."  Diane  shook  her  head.  "He  died several  months  ago."  She  looked  up  again.  "If  those are  his  bones  from  the  ?eld.  They  might  not  be.  Jin hasn't  ?nished  the  DNA  analysis  yet."
  "It's  worth  checking  out,"  said  Frank.  "He  may have just gone to ground-in another way," he added. LaCroix  came  out  and  motioned  for  the  DA  and Janice.  Frank,  Diane,  and  the  chief  of  police  went back  to  the  observation  room.
  "My  client  can  offer  you  the  murderer  of  Edgar Peeks all wrapped up with a bow. What can you offer her?"  said  LaCroix.
"What  about  the  murderer  of  Jefferies?"  said  Ja­ nice  Warrick.
"She  doesn't  know  who  killed  him,"  said  LaCroix.
"They weren't killed by the same person?" said Ja­ nice.  She  looked  surprised.
"They  may have  been," said  LaCroix. "But  my cli­ ent  can  only  prove  who  killed  Peeks.  What  can  you offer  her?"
"She  held  a  gun  on  four  people  employed  by  the Rosewood Police Department and one Atlanta detec­ tive," said Riddmann. "Threatening to kill them. What kind  of  deal  does  she  think  she  can  get?"
"The gun wasn't loaded," said LaCroix. She looked over  at  Janice.
Janice  shook  her  head.  "It  wasn't,"  she  said.
"My  client  isn't  a  murderer.  She  is  a  victim  caught up  in  some  terrible  conspiracies  by  these  men."
"What  about  the  money?"  said  Janice.
"What  about  it?"  said  LaCroix.  "You  have  the  ac­ count  numbers.  She  didn't  have  time  to  do  anything with  them."
"We  can  give  her  six  months,"  said  Riddmann,  "in the  women's  facility."
Diane  thought  that  was  awfully  light,  considering they  didn't  know  what  else  she  had  done.  Ask  her.
Diane  wanted  to  knock  on  the  window.  She  started SCATTERED  GRAVES to  say  something  to  the  chief  of  police,  but  Janice spoke  up.
  "There  were  her  activities  in  the  employ  of  the mayor  and  his  friends,  and  we  don't  know  what  her role  was  in  the  Peeks  murder.  She  may  have  helped cover  it  up,"  said  Janice.  "Or  plan  it."
  "I just worked for the crime lab," said Rikki. "You can look at the logs to see the crime scenes I was on. And  as  for  Peeks,  I  didn't  ?nd  out  about  his  murder until  after  it  was  done.  Sure  the  killer  told  me  about it,  but  he  threatened  me.  These  are  mean  guys."
"You   weren't   too   afraid   to   steal   their   money," said  Janice.
"It  was  over  a  quarter  of  a  billion  dollars.  I  was overwhelmed by the thought of that much money. But I  didn't  hurt  anyone  and  I  wasn't  one  of  the  hackers who  helped  them  get  rich.  They  hired  me  to  work  in the  crime  lab  because  of  my  degree,"  said  Rikki.
Riddmann  nodded.  "Do  you  take  the  deal?"
"Six  months  and  immunity,"  said  LaCroix.
Riddmann  hesitated.
"It's  a  good  story,"  said  Rikki.  "They  were  really bad  guys."
He  nodded.  "Tell  us  your  good  story,  Miss  Gil­ linick."
Chapter 45
Rikki straightened herself up in her chair. She looked con?dent and not at all unhappy for someone who just lost  over  a quarter  of  a billion  dollars,  as  she put  it. Janice  said  they  had  found  the  papers  with  the  ac­ count  numbers,  passwords,  and  banks  that  Rikki  got from Diane's of?ce, but there were no electronic devices from which she could have transferred the money. Not even  a  cell?  Diane  had  meant  to  ask,  but  things  had been  too  hectic  and  the  police  were  not  inclined  to stop and listen to her. They were wrapped up in solv­ ing the crime of the decade, and Diane could see they didn't  really  want  to  share  the  glory,  especially  not with  Frank,  an  Atlanta  detective,  despite  the  help  he had  provided.
But  they  were  letting  Diane  and  Frank  watch.
Patsy LaCroix sat beside Rikki, patting her hand. A court reporter  was in the  room transcribing  the inter­ view.  They  also  had  a  tape  recorder.  They  weren't taking  any  chances  of  missing  anything.
"I really didn't get to know them all until after Jef­ feries  was  elected  mayor.  They  hired  me  at  a  job  fair at the university but told me the job wouldn't be ready for a couple of months and I could just take the time off. Jefferies gave me a watch-it was a real expensive diamond watch. He told me I would be well paid, but he  wanted  loyalty,  that  I  would  be  part  of  a  team.  I had the watch appraised by a jeweler. It cost over ten thousand  dollars!"
Her  eyes  grew  wide  just  thinking  about  it.
  "I'd  never  seen  that  much  money,  and  there  I  was wearing  it  on  my  wrist,"  Rikki  continued,  caressing her bare wrist. "And he wasn't asking me for anything but  loyalty.  Sounded  like  a  good  deal  to  me,  and working in a crime lab was something I wanted to do.
I  like  all  those  TV  shows.  Can  I  have  something  to drink?  Water,  maybe?  Mineral?"
  Janice  stepped  out  and  asked  someone  to  bring  a bottle of water from the drink machine. Diane doubted it  would  be  mineral.
"Go  on,  Miss  Gillinick,"  said  Riddmann.  "They'll bring  you  the  water."
"I  knew  there  were  other  people  on  the  team,  but I  didn't  know  who  they  were.  I  found  out  they  were making  a  lot  of  money  for  Jefferies  and  his  friends.  I wasn't sure exactly how. I knew it involved computers.
But my job was only to work in the crime lab and do what  they  told  me  to.  That  was  important-that  I  do what  I  was  told.  Jefferies  told  me  that  when  he  got elected  I  would  go  to  work.  I  asked  him  what  if  he didn't  get  elected,  and  he  just  laughed."
The  water  came  and  Rikki  took  a  long  drink.
"Well,  he  did  get  elected,  and  I  went  to  work,  and things  were  ?ne  for  a  while.  I  liked  the  people  I worked with. Neva and David were really nice to me, and Jin, when I saw him, was funny. We joked around a  lot.
"Then  I  started  learning  more  about  Jefferies  and the  others,  and  it  was  scary.  I  heard  them  talking about having killed a judge. Whatever that was about happened  before  I  came  to  work,  and  I  don't  know anything about it. It was just a stray comment I over­ heard Bryce tell Curtis. Curtis was Peeks' cousin. He's kind  of  creepy  in  a  fun  sort  of  way,  and  not  very smart, if you know what I mean. I never let on that I overheard  that."
"Where  were  you  when  you  heard  these  conversa­ tions?"  said  Janice.
"Sometimes at the mayor's house. I was, uh, sort of dating  Curtis  and  we  occasionally  had  dinner  at  the mayor's house. They didn't seem to care what I heard, I  suppose,  since  they  ?gured  they  had  bought  my loyalty."
  She  took  another  drink  of  water,  this  time  a  small sip,  and  she  actually  looked  as  if  the  memory  scared her.  Diane  imagined  it  did,  but  not  enough  to  over­ come the glamour of the situation and the money that came  with  it.  Along  with her  salary  she  was  probably paid  bonuses  under  the  table.
  "Continue,  Miss  Gillinick,"  said  Riddmann.  "We are  anxious  to  hear  about  the  murders."
  Riddmann   was   inclined   to   be   impatient.   Diane thought  they  ought  to  just  let  the  story  unfold,  not encourage  her  to  skip  over  parts  of  it.
  Rikki seemed to ignore him. She continued with her story the way she was telling it. She had the stage and was  enjoying  her  part.
  "They  were  real  happy  to  get  the  crime  lab.  Bryce didn't  want  to  be  head  of  it,  but  they  must  have  told him  he  had  to.  You  know  in  movies  how  the  good- looking  guys  will  have  a  dweeb  for  a  sidekick,  and maybe  he'll  be  smarter  than  them,  but  he's  still  a dweeb? Well, that was Bryce. He was the dweeb. But they  told  him  the  crime  lab  was  the  most  important job of all. And I think  they meant that. They weren't aware  that  the  bone  lab  didn't  come  with  it.  At  ?rst they  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  it  anyway.  Then Bryce  found  out  that  it  had  all  kinds  of  fancy  equip­ ment and he realized he could hire their own forensic anthropologist,  so  he  started  looking  for  one.
  "But what Jefferies really wanted was the DNA lab. He  knew  it  was  owned  by  the  museum,  but  he  and the  others  had  an  idea  of  how  to  get  it.  They  were ?rst  going  to  get  Curtis  on  the  inside  to  do  all  their DNA  analysis.  But  Diane  Fallon  got  in  the  way  of that and they decided they had to get rid of her. They hired Harve Delamore to do it. He hated her anyway. Harve  was  always  bragging  about  how  he  could  have gone semipro. Well, that's what he was-semipro and not  pro.  He  bungled  it.  When  that  didn't  work  out, they  were  going  to  frame  her  for  his  murder."  She laughed.  "Then  it  turned  out  that  the  GBI  had  juris­ diction.  It  was  starting  to  get  funny.  Diane  was  like the  Road  Runner  and  they  were  Wile  E.  Coyote." Diane was shocked that Rikki could talk about mur­ dering  someone  with  such  ease,  even  laugh  about  it. She   shivered.   Life   meant   nothing   to   this   woman. Nothing  to  Jefferies  and  his  cronies  either.
  "Jefferies  and  Bryce  drew  up  plans  for  what  they would  do  with  the  whole  third  ?oor  of  the  museum building," said Rikki. "But they had to get Dr. Fallon out  of  the  way."
Diane  was  startled  to  hear  that.  How  did  they  ex­ pect  to  get  the  whole  third  ?oor?  she  wondered.
Rikki  leaned  forward  as  if  Riddmann  and  Janice could  hear  her  better  if  she  did.
"When  Harve  failed  to  kill  her,  Bryce  smuggled  a gun  into  the  museum  and  hid  it.  It  was  easy  because Bryce  had  his  own  guard  at  the  door  from  the  crime lab  into  the  museum.  They  were  planning  to  kill  Dr.
Fallon in the museum. They thought that might make it  easier  to  close  it  down."
Diane  sucked  in  her   breath.  Frank  grabbed  her hand  and  squeezed.  The  chief  of  police  looked  over at  her,  frowning  himself,  startled.
Rikki  looked  up  at  the  two-way  mirror  as  if  she knew Diane was watching, and delighted in the shock of  the  revelation.
"You  were  just  going  to  let  that  happen?"  said Janice.
"What  could  I  do?  By  this  time  I  was  thoroughly scared  by  these  guys.  If  they  were  going  to  kill  her, they wouldn't give a second thought about doing me."
"How did they think that would get them the DNA lab?"  said  Janice.  "The  museum  would  still  own  it."
"But Dr. Fallon was the force behind the crime as­ pect  to  it.  They  ?gured  the  next  director  wouldn't  be a  forensic  anthropologist  and  wouldn't  be  interested in  the  labs.  They  knew  some  of  the  museum's  board of directors didn't like the forensic stuff being there."
  "How  were  they  planning  to  take  over  the  whole third  ?oor?"  asked  Janice.  "Killing  Diane  wouldn't get  them  that  either."
  Diane  could  see  that  Janice  was  skeptical.  Ridd­ mann  looked  like  he  was  getting  impatient  with  Ja­ nice's questions. Diane wanted Janice to continue. She wanted  the  answers  to  those  questions.
  "That wasn't all they had planned. I heard them say that little old ladies could get mugged and what a trag­ edy  that  would   be.  They  had   planned  to  take  out Vanessa Van Ross too." She sat back in her chair. "See, Mr. Riddmann,  I  told  you  this  was  a  good  story  and worth a  little  time  off for  good  behavior," said Rikki. Diane  stepped  back  and  leaned  against  the  back wall. She felt a strange retroactive fear of what might have happened. Frank put an arm around her shoulder and  she  leaned  into  him.
"How did we let this happen?" said Chief Monroe.
"How  did  we  miss  all  of  this?"
He didn't really expect an answer and Diane didn't give  him  one.  She  didn't  have  one.  She  hadn't  voted for  Jefferies.  With  her  it  was  just  a  vague  mistrust, something  she  couldn't  put  into  words,  a  gut  feeling that  she  acted  on  at  the  voting  booth.  But  he  had appealed  to  a  lot  of  people.
Diane  could  see  that  the  three  sitting  in  the  room with Rikki were just as stunned. She couldn't see Ridd­ mann's  and Janice's faces, but  she saw  them  straighten up and exchange glances. She saw the shock on Patsy LaCroix's   face.   She   had   been   periodically   patting Rikki  on  the  hand,  encouraging  her.  She  took  her hands away and put them on the table in front of her.
Patsy  LaCroix  and  Vanessa  were  friends.
Rikki  saw  their  reaction,  delighted  in  it  for  a  mo­ ment,  then  straightened  her  own  face  to  re?ect  the seriousness  of  the  situation.
"That's one of the reasons they were so furious with Bryce when he gave Dr. Fallon the ammunition to get the crime lab out of the museum building. They could see all their carefully laid plans just collapsing. That's when they started ?ghting with each other. They tried to get Garnett to help them but he wouldn't. And that really  pissed  them  off.
  "They  were  trying  to  get  rid  of  him  anyway,  and had  planned  to  frame  him  for  Dr. Fallon's  murder. Bryce came up with the idea of substituting one bullet for another. He said it would be tricky. Bullets some­ times ricochet around in the body and you don't know where they might end up, but if it's done right, Bryce thought  he  could  make  it  work  by  short  loading  the bullets,  or  something  like  that.  He  said  he  could  re­ duce  the  energy  of  the  bullet  when  it  entered  the body.  He  was  just  full  of  fun  ideas."  She  laughed again.
"You  think  all  this  is  funny?"  said  Janice.
"I do," said Rikki. "Do you want my story or not?"
"Please  go  on,"  said  Riddmann.
Rikki  nodded.  "Just  in  case  that  didn't  work-or they  couldn't  get  the  bullet  out-they  got  a  gun  that couldn't be traced back to them. They also took Gar- nett's bullets from the Ballistics Department and were going to use them, but those were all in perfect shape and  Bryce  thought  it  would  look  suspicious.  So  they collected  Garnett's  bullets  from  the  gun  range."
"So  all  their  plans  collapsed,"  said  Janice.
Rikki nodded. "First, Dr. Fallon shut down the crime lab  and  locked  them  out,  so  they  couldn't  get  through the connecting door to get into the museum where the gun  was  and  where  they  wanted  to  kill  her.  They didn't  want  to  risk  going  through  one  of  the  main entrances.  That  meant  passing  under  the  video  cam­ eras and past people who might remember them. They thought  about  doing  the  Van  Ross  woman  ?rst,  but she was out of town. They were trying to work all that out  when  Jefferies  was  murdered.  That  threw  Peeks and  Bryce  for  a  loop.  Let  me  tell  you,  it  shook  them bad.  That's  why  I  don't  think  they  did  it.
	Beverly  Connor   "After  they  got  over  being  scared  that  they  might be  next,  Peeks  decided  to  take  over  where  Jefferies left off. He was going to make Bryce the dweeb side­ kick again, but Bryce wasn't going to have it. Him and Peeks  were  at  Jefferies'  house  waiting  for  Garnett's lawyer  to  come  with  Dr. Fallon  to  look  at  the  house when  they  had  a  real  kickup.  I  wasn't  there.  Bryce told  me  about  it  later  and  said  if  I  didn't  help  him, he would say I was in on it and would go to jail too- if  I  lived  that  long.  I  got  with  the  program,  but  I protected  myself.
"He  shot  Peeks  in  the  back  of  the  head  and,  just like  he  planned  to  do  with  Dr. Fallon,  he  took  those long  tweezers  from  the  crime  kit  and  dug  the  bullet out.  I  can't  even  bare  to  tweeze  a  splinter  out  of  my ?nger;  anyone  can  tell  you  that.  Anyway,  he  found the bullet and pulled it out. He was carrying Garnett's bullet in his crime kit to use on Dr. Fallon, so he took the  tweezers and  pushed that  bullet back  through the bullet   hole  in   Peeks'  head.   Pretty  disgusting   stuff, huh?
"Anyway,  time  was  running  out.  He  knew  Dr. Fal­ lon  and  the  lawyer  were  coming  soon.  He  was  in  a hurry  and  got  careless.  The  bullet  and  the  tweezers were  knocked  under  the  chest  as  he  was  getting  the kit out of the way. He couldn't reach under the chest and  he  didn't  have  time  to  move  it  and  clean  every­ thing  up, so  he  left  them, knowing  he  could get  them later.  He  texted  Garnett,  pretending  to  be  Prehoda's secretary,  and  told  him  to  come  and  meet  Prehoda and Dr. Fallon at the house. Then he hotfooted it out of  there  and  got  back  to  the  crime  lab  just  about  the time we received the call from the police. That's when Bryce told me what happened and threatened me into helping  him."
She  took  another  long  drink  of  water  as  if  in  the telling  of  it  she  was  reliving  it.  She  actually  looked out  of  breath.
"It  was  busy  when  we  got  to  the  crime  scene.  He tried  to  hurry  Dr. Fallon  and  the  lawyer  out  of  the SCATTERED  GRAVES way, but there was you and your partner to deal with too,"  she  said  to  Janice.  "I  found  the  bullet  and  the tweezers  under  the  chest  and  put  them  in  a  paper evidence  bag  and  sealed  it.  I  gave  Bryce  another  bag just  like  it  and  told  him  it  was  the  evidence.  I  took mine  to  the  bank  and  put  it  in  a  safe  deposit  box. Then  I  stayed  with  a  friend  and  didn't  come  to  work until I found out Bryce had been ?red and Dr. Fallon was  back  in  charge.  I  wouldn't  even  take  any  calls from  Curtis.  I  didn't  really  trust  him  either.  I  called Bryce and told him what I had and he'd better lay off me. He tried to make all nice and started talking about the  money.  Him  and  Curtis  were  making  all  these plans  to  get  the  computer,  but  they  were  so  lame. They wanted me to stay working in the crime lab, and that's what you-all wanted too, so I did. I got to think­ ing  that  I'd  get  the  money.  I  knew  I  would  have  to let  you  guys  decode  it  ?rst."
  "Who  encrypted  it?"  said  Diane  to  the  chief.  "Get them  to  ask  that.  Find  out  if  it  was  Malcolm  Chen, and ask her what happened to the bones in the ?eld."
Chapter 46
The  chief  of  police,  Buford  Monroe,  went  into  the room with Rikki and the others. He picked up a chair from  the  corner  of  the  room,  brought  it  over  to  the interview table, and sat down. Even in pro?le his face looked  stern.
"Young  lady,"  he  asked,  "do  you  know  who  en­ crypted  the  mayor's  computer?"
Rikki  looked  at  him  a  moment  as  if  processing the  question.
"I assume it was one of the hackers Jefferies hired.
He had  them over to his  house sometimes. But  I was never  there  when  they  were,  and  I  didn't  know  any of  them.  I  think  Curtis  knew  who  did  it.  He  was  al­ ways  hinting  at  stuff.  And  of  course  Bryce  knows many  of  the  hackers.  He's  the  only  one  left,  in  case you  haven't  noticed."
"Have  you  ever  heard  of  a  man  named  Malcolm Chen?"  asked  the  chief.
"Not until recently when his bones were discovered.
That was something else that really freaked them out.
I heard Bryce on the phone with Jefferies. I sometimes listened  in,"  she  said  without  any  embarrassment.
"Jefferies  thought  that  was  going  to  be  the  thing that  would  collapse  their  world.  I  didn't  understand what it was about, but I got the idea that the last thing they  wanted  was  for  this  guy  to  be  identi?ed  and  his death  investigated.
"Bryce  reminded  them  they  had  their  own  forensic anthropologist. Up to then they thought he had jumped the gun in hiring one and were giving him a hard time. Everything was cool until Bryce realized the sheriff was sending the bones to Dr. Fallon. Bryce hijacked them and thought he was home free until he found out that Dr. Fallon  already  had  the  few  ?rst  ones  that  were found. Jennifer told him there wasn't much Dr. Fallon could  do  with  a  handful  of  bone  fragments,  that  they were  too  damaged  and  the  DNA  was  probably  de­ cayed."
"Was  Jennifer  in  with  them?"  asked  the  chief.
"No, I didn't get that impression. Bryce told her he wanted  her  to  be  the  one  to  identify  the  bones  and not  Dr. Fallon.  That's  how  he  explained  his  interest.
But  I  do  think  Bryce  and  the  others  thought  they could turn her. Jennifer was just out of the university, and  Bryce  knew  she  wanted  the  job  badly.  She'd  put her  career  on  hold  while  her  husband  went  to  school and  she  raised  the  rug  rats.  Now  she  was  old  and desperate.  Bryce  thought  that  would  make  her  easier to  handle.  He  also  thought  she  was  having  an  affair with  the  new  medical  examiner  and  he  was  going  to hold that over her. I told you, these were mean guys- Bryce,  Jefferies,  and  Peeks."  Rikki  smiled.
No  loyalty  there  for  Jennifer,  thought  Diane.
"It  might  interest  you  to  know  that  Dr. Fallon  did discover the identity of the person who the handful of broken  bones  came  from,"  said  the  chief.  He  said  it as if he wanted her to know that the home team were better  all-around  players  than  Jefferies'  team.
Rikki grinned. "You'll have to tell that to Jennifer.
She'll have a cow. She got really jealous the way things turned  out."
"What  happened  to  the  bones  that  disappeared?" asked  Chief  Monroe.
"Curtis  took  them  and  threw  them  in  the  river," she  said.
"Where  is  the  hard  disk  you  took?  Is  that  in  the river  too?"  asked  the  police  chief.
"Yes,"  she  said.
  Diane  wondered  if  they  were  regretting  the  great deal  they  gave  her.  Immunity  is  a  great  thing  when you're  up  to  your  neck  in  crime.
"When   Jefferies   was   killed,   who   did   Peeks   and Bryce  think  did  it?"  the  police  chief  asked.
"They  didn't  know.  We  all  talked  about  it.  For about  a  minute  I  thought  Bryce  had.  Jefferies  was always  on  his  butt  for  something,  but  he  was  really rattled  by  their  deaths.  I  think  Bryce  did  depend  on them-even  though  they  depended  on  him  for  their homework  in  that  ivy  league  school  they  went  to," said  Rikki.  "I  guess  you  noticed  their  pinky  rings.  So seventh  grade."
"Did  Bryce  or  Peeks  name  anyone  at  all  who  they thought  might  have  committed  the  murders?"  asked the  chief  again.
"When it came down to it, they really thought Gar- nett  may  have  done  it.  The  only  other  people  they mentioned  were  some  of  the  hackers  they  hired,  but they had no idea who. Peeks planned on going through the ?les to see if he could come up with anything. But as  I  said,  their  best  guess  was  Garnett.  Jefferies  was really after him, and they thought he found out about them,"  said  Rikki.
So they were back where they started, thought Diane.
Back  to  Garnett.  The  chief  would  probably  order  him released, but Garnett would still have a cloud over him unless  they  could ?nd out  who killed Jefferies.
Diane  thought  of  one  person  who  would  know.
"Let's  go  back  to  the  museum,"  she  said  to  Frank.
When  the  police  chief  came  out  of  the  interview room,  Diane  thanked  him  for letting  her  listen  to  the confession.  He  nodded.  The  chief  was  calm  in  the room with Rikki, but his face was red with anger when he  came  out.
"What  do  you  make  of  all  that?"  he  said.
"Right  now,  I'm  shocked,"  said  Diane.
"I can imagine you are. I am. I'm going to talk with Edward.   He'll   be   outraged   when   he   ?nds   out   his mother was on a hit list. Tell me, what were the voters thinking about when they went to the polls?" he said.
"I  wonder  if  you  can  sue  voters;  they're  always  so anxious  to  hold  people  accountable."
Diane  didn't  answer.  She  didn't  think  he  really  ex­ pected one. He was angry, and practically everyone to be  angry  with  was  dead.
"I've  sent  a  car  out  to  pick  up  Lloyd  Bryce  and Curtis Crabtree. Janice is going to the bank to get the evidence from the safety deposit box. She'll send it to the  GBI  for  analysis,  if  that's  all  right  with  you.  Ed­ ward said you have some repairs to make in the crime lab  before  it's  ready  for  use  again.  I  tell  you,  they're like  an  infestation  of  rats.  And  from  the  sound  of things, there are a lot more of them out there lurking in  peoples'  businesses.  Thank  God  we  have  a  list."
"You  can  have  Janice  bring  the  evidence  to  us  if you  want.  Jin  can  do  the  DNA  faster  and  he  can  lift the  prints  in  his  lab.  When  he's  ?nished  he  can  send the  bullet  to  Ballistics,"  said  Diane.
The  police  chief  nodded.  "I  like  that  better.  Yes,  I do. Let the people know we're on top of things despite all  the  rats'  nests  we  have  to  clear  out."  He  went  to ?nd  Janice  before  she  left  for  the  bank.
"How  do  you  feel?"  asked  Frank  when  they  were ensconced in his car on the way back to the museum.
"Like  I  just  escaped  a  bullet,"  she  said.  "I'm  more astonished  than  angry  at  the  moment.  I  can't  believe what  I  just  heard.  Do  you  think  she  was  telling  the truth?"
"Most  of  it.  I  think  she  lightened  her  involvement considerably and she's been enjoying the life of a gun moll  all  this  time."
"Could  she  have  killed  Jefferies  and  Peeks?"  said Diane.
"It's  a  possibility  they  will  look  into,"  said  Frank.
"My  gut  feeling  right  now  is,  no.  She  is  very  driven by gathering things to herself. I can't see her murder­ ing  them  unless  she  expected  to  get  something  big from  it,  and  I  can't  see  what  that  would  be."
"How  about  all  that  money?"  said  Diane.
	Beverly  Connor   "I  think  she  was  after  that  anyway.  That's  why  she listened in on conversations. Whether they were alive or  dead,  she  was  planning  on  stealing  the  money. When  she  held  a  gun  on  us,  it  was  unloaded.  She speci?cally  did  not  want  to  do  anything  that  would land  her  hard  jail  time.  I  may  be  wrong,"  he  added.
  "She wasn't afraid Jefferies would come after her if she  stole  his  money?"  asked  Diane.
"She thought she could get away. She knew Jefferies' in?uence  was  local.  He  was  in  the  process  of  building a  gang.  He  didn't  have  members  all  over  the  country.
He  may  have  had  sleepers   in  businesses  in  several places,  but  his  organization  was  still  new  enough  that he  couldn't  reach  her  every  place  she  might  go.  I hope,"  he  added.
"Doesn't  she  have  immunity  now?"  said  Diane.
Frank  shook  his  head.  "If  she  lies,  all  bets  are  off.
At  least  that's  the  way  we  do  it  in  Atlanta."
  The crime lab was clean and almost ready to resume operation.  The  delicate  machines  were  scheduled  to be calibrated tomorrow. It looked and smelled cleaner when  they  walked  in  the  door.  David,  Jin,  and  Neva were  there.  Diane  had  called  and  told  them  she  was on  her  way.
  Jin  was  having  a  ?t.  Apparently  he  had  been  in  a tirade,  as  much  of  a  tirade  as  Jin  got  in,  ever  since they told him about the computer person, or whatever it  was.  They  were  all  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  call  it.
"Why didn't anybody call me?" he said. "Something that  cool  is  going  on  and  nobody  thinks  to  call  me and  let  me  see?  How  could  you  do  that  to  me?"
"Jin, get over it already," said Neva. "It was proba­ bly just a guy on the other end of his instant messen­ ger  anyway."
"I'm  glad  you're  back,"  said  David.  "Maybe  you can  do  something  with  him."
Diane started to say something but was interrupted by  a  knock  at  the  door.  They  all  turned  and  looked SCATTERED  GRAVES accusingly at the door, as if it had done it. Visits from the  museum  side  were  unusual.
  Diane opened the door. Jonas Briggs, the archaeol­ ogist, was standing on the other side, grinning. He had his  laptop  under  his  arm.
  "It's  the  darnedest  thing,  but  I  thought  I'd  better tell  you.  So,  this  is  the  dark  side,"  he  said,  coming  in and looking around. It was what every museum staffer said  when  they  came  over.
  "This is it," said Diane. "You said something is the darnedest  thing?"
  "Yes.  This  little  guy  who  sounds  for  all  the  world like  the  physicist  Stephen  Hawking  came  up  on  my computer  and  asked  me  to  play  chess."
Chapter 47
They  all  stared  at  Jonas  for  several  moments  as  he stood  with  his  laptop  under  his  arm,  stretching  his neck,  looking  around  at  the  lab.
"He's in the system," said Diane to no one in partic­ ular.  "What  did  you  say  in  reply?"  she  asked  Jonas.
"Nothing,"  Jonas  said.  "I  started  to.  He  knew  my name.  He  called  me  Jonas,  but  I  thought  it  might  be a  virus  so  I  just  turned  off  my  computer.  I  hope  that was  right."
"That  was  ?ne,  Jonas,"  said  Diane.  "We'll  take  it from  here.  Thanks  for  bringing  it  to  my  attention."
She  smiled,  feeling  like  she was  hurrying  him  out  too fast.  "Can  we  have  your  computer?"
"You  said  he's  in  the  system,"  said  Jonas.  "He who?"  Jonas  apparently  didn't  feel  hurried.
"We  don't  know  yet.  I  would  appreciate  it  if  you wouldn't  mention  this  to  anyone,"  said  Diane.
"I  won't. I'll  just mark  it down  as one  of  the many strange  things  that  go  on  here."  He  handed  her  the computer.
"You'll  get  it  back  soon,"  said  Diane.
"Okay. I'll be interested to hear the story when you can  tell  it,"  he  said.  "If  the  little  fellow  turns  out  to be okay, I'll be glad to play a game of chess with him."
He  left  and  Diane  watched  him  walk  across  the overlook, shaking his head. She handed the computer to  David.
  "Is this a virus?" she said,  frowning. A virus in the museum  network  didn't  bear  thinking  about.
"I  don't  know,"  said  David.  "I'll  have  a  look."
"Can it get into the crime lab system?" asked Diane.
"No,"  said  David.  "I  think  I  have  that  well  pro­ tected.  It  would  surprise  me  if  it  could  get  through my  ?rewall."
"I  don't  want  you  to  be  surprised,"  said  Diane.
"Would you feel better if we went to your of?ce to turn  this  on?"  said  David.
"I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  yes,"  said Diane. "I don't want to take the chance it'll jump into this system-if that's what it does." She was surprised at how ignorant she was of computers. She had thought she  was  a  computer-savvy  person  until  now.
Diane   turned   to   Jin.   "What's   that   you   have   in your  hand?"
"Evidence  from  the  Peeks  murder.  Detective  War- rick  brought  it  just  before  you  got  here,"  said  Jin.
"What  do  we  do  with  evidence  around  here?"  said Diane.
"We  process  it,"  said  Jin,  "but-"
"Process  it,  then.  This  is  very  important  evidence," she  said.  "It  could  clear  Garnett  and  identify  Peeks' killer.  Take  ?ngerprints  ?rst.  You'll  have  to  process everything  down  in  your  lab."
"Am I going to miss the cyberghost again?" he said.
"I'm  sorry,"  said  Diane.
Jin  sighed.  "That's  what  happens  when  you  make yourself  indispensable."
"Yes, it is," said Diane. "I  am sorry, but right now your  lab  has  to  carry  the  load."
Jin  nodded.  "By  the  way.  I  did  get  DNA  from  the tooth and compared it with the samples from Malcolm Chen's  house.  It's  a  match.  I  told  Detective  Warrick.
She  seemed  pleased."
"Thanks,  Jin.  You  do  great  work  and  are  appreci­ ated,"  said  Diane.
"I  know.  I  have  my  own  lab."  He  grinned.
  It  was  almost  time  for  the  museum  to  shut  down for  the  evening.  People  were  streaming  out  the  door. In  about  forty  minutes  the  night  lighting  would  come on  in  the  exhibit  rooms  and  it  would  be  quiet  except for  the  people  still  working  in  their  labs  and  the  few classes  going  on  in  some  of  the  departments.
  On  the  way  to  her  of?ce  Diane  was  stopped  by several members of the staff about various bits of mu­ seum business. She waved David, Frank, and Neva on and  told  them  to  start  without  her.
  No  one  who  wanted  to  talk  with  her  had  anything urgent,  only  the  everyday  things  she  needed  to  take care  of.  Sometimes  her  staff  just  needed  to  see  and speak with her, or tell her of some particular unfortu­ nate  or  even  delightful  thing  that  happened.  It  was very  calming  compared  to  the  last  several  days  of her  life.
  Andie was going out her door when Diane made it to her of?ce. She stopped to tell Diane she had put all her messages on her desk-an unnecessary statement, because  Andie  always  put  the  messages  on  her  desk when  she  wasn't  there.
"Thanks,  Andie.  Anything  urgent?"  asked  Diane.
"Nope.  Kendel  is  coming  in  sometime  tomorrow.
We're all very excited to see the Neanderthal bones."
"That's  great, Andie.  Have  a  good evening.  I'll  see you  tomorrow,"  said  Diane.
Frank,  Neva,  and  David  were  ordering  food  from the  museum  restaurant  when  Diane  got  to  her  sit­ ting  room.
"Not  pizza,"  said  Diane.
"No,"  said  Neva  and  David  together.
David  was  about  to  open  the  laptop  when  they heard  another  knock  on  Diane's  private  back  door.
"Someone  else  ?nd  the  ghost?"  said  Neva.
Diane  started  to  open  it,  but  she  stopped.  "Who  is it?"  she  asked.
"Jin,"  the  voice  said.
She opened the door. "I thought you were working on  the  evidence,"  said  Diane,  frowning  at  him.
  "I  lifted  the  prints.  I  found  Bryce's.  A  thumb  and partial index. I called Warrick with the information. I also matched the bullet. It's in the database as belonging to  Bryce.  I  know  we're  not  ballistics,  but  it  was  just  a matter  of  photographing  the  striations  and  matching them  to  the  database.  I  gave  that  info  to  Warrick  too. She  was  giddy  with  excitement.  The  DNA  analysis  I can't get done tonight if I plan to eat dinner and go to bed at some point. So unless you want me to go down to  my  lab  and  work  myself  literally  to  the  bone,  I'd like to come and eat with you guys. You ordered din­ ner,  didn't  you?  I'll  bet  it  wasn't  pizza."
  "Come in, Jin. No, I don't want you to starve. Call the  restaurant  and  add  what  you  want  to  the  Fallon order,"  said  Diane.
  While  they  waited  for  their  food,  Diane  and  Frank told  them  what  Rikki  had  said  in  her  statement.  Jin, Neva,  and  David  sat  openmouthed  at  the  revelation that Jefferies and company had begun implementation of  a  plan  to  kill  Diane  and  Vanessa.
  David  stood  up,  his  face  ?ushed.  "Are  you  telling me  that  if you  hadn't  kicked  the  crime  lab out  of  the museum, you would be dead? Who in the hell do they think  they  are  that  they  have  the  right  to  do  that?
Because  they  wanted  something  you  have,  they  were going to kill you? This is what we left in South America. This  is  why  Margaret  died,  and  Damian,  and  Caridad, and Abigail, and Joe, and Martin, and, and Ariel." He stopped.  "And  all  the  others  who  were  massacred  by that  monster,"  he  whispered.  Tears  had  settled  in  his eyes, not spilling down his cheeks, but damming up until his eyes were shiny black. "Are you sure we should be looking for  their killer?"  he  said  quietly.
  Neva,  Jin,  and  Frank  sat  in  silence,  looking  sympa­ thetically at David. Diane could see by the set of their mouths,  the  creases  of  their  foreheads,  they  too  were upset. On the way over in the car Frank hadn't let go of  her  hand  but  held  on  tight.
Diane  looked  up  to  see  Izzy  standing  in  the  door­ way.  He  looked  as  forlorn  as  David.
	Beverly  Connor   "I  thought  I  would  come  see  what  you  guys  were doing,"  said  Izzy.  "Evie's  at  one  of  her  meetings.  I heard  about  Rikki's  confession."
  "Come  in  and  sit  down,"  said  Diane.  "We  just  or­ dered from the restaurant. It should be here in a min­ ute.  Why  don't  you  call  down  for  something?"
  "I had a milk shake on the way over. I might order me  a  hamburger."  Instead  of  going  to  the  phone,  he sat  down  on  the  sofa.
Diane went over and hugged David. "I'm here, and I really think they would have had a hard time killing me.  Many  have  tried  and  failed,"
"Is  that  supposed  to  be  funny?"  he  said.
"Yes.  You  mean  it  wasn't?"  she  said.
"Not  in  the  least."
The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their dinner.  Izzy  placed  an  order  for  a  hamburger  and Diane  gave  the  waiter  a  tip  while  the  others  were setting  the  food  out  on  the  table.
"I  really  understand  you,  David,"  said  Izzy  as  they were  putting  chairs  around  Diane's  table.
David smiled grimly. "It was just my turn to tirade.
Jin's  been  doing  it  all  day  because  he  missed  the cyberghost."
They told Izzy about the reappearance of the ghost to  Jonas  Briggs,  the  archaeologist.
"So he stayed on, did he?" said Izzy. "Can't say as I  blame  him."
Izzy  was  trying  to  be  lighthearted,  but  Diane  could see  he  too  was  feeling  stinging  anger  at  Jefferies  and his  buddies.  All  of  them,  all  their  eyes  looked  trou­ bled.  She  understood.  To  think  that  there  was  some­ one out there plotting against her, plotting to kill her, and  she  didn't  know  it,  wouldn't  have  known  it  until it  was  perhaps  too  late.  How  do  you  guard  against things  you  don't  know?  How  do  you  know  to  ?ght them? It was frightening and infuriating. Diane agreed with  David.  It  was  like  the  man  who  massacred  their friends.  Just  like  him.
"So,  are  we going  to  ?nd  Jefferies' and  Peeks'  kill­
SCATTERED  GRAVES ers  or  are  we  going  to  call  them  misdemeanor  homi­ cides  and  go  after  some  really  bad  guys?"  said  Jin.
"Of  course  we  are  going  to  ?nd  the  killers,"  said Diane. "The city needs some closure on this. We need to  demonstrate  that  we  are  not  to  be  messed  with.
And we need to put an end to this dirty business. Not for Jefferies and Peeks, but for all of us. Killing is not how  we  solve  our  problems.  That's  the  whole  point."
"You're  not  going  to  give a  speech,  are  you?"  said David.  "Like  The  Grapes  of  Wrath,  or  The  Fountain­ head,  because  you  really  aren't  as  good  as  Henry Fonda  or  Gary  Cooper."
"That  was  it.  That  was  my  speech,"  said  Diane, smiling  at  him.
"So,"  said  Neva.  "How  are  we  going  to  proceed?
Do  we  know  that  Bryce  didn't  kill  Spence  Jefferies?
He  killed  Edgar  Peeks."
"No,  we  don't  know,"  said  Diane.  "But  I  think there is someone  who does. He as much  as told me."
"Who?"  said  Neva.
"The  cyberghost,"  said  Diane.
Chapter 48
"The  cyberghost  told  us?"  said  Neva,  squeezing  a slice of lemon  over her salmon. "I  must have missed that."
  Diane  was  glad  they  had  a  name  to  call  him.  She was  about  to  settle  on  Fred.
"Yes,"  said  Diane,  "he  told  us."
Diane took a bite of her salmon and they all settled into eating their meals of steaks, lasagna, and salmon.
Diane  supplied  drinks  from  her  refrigerator.  It  didn't take  long for  the  restaurant staff  to  bring Izzy's  ham­ burger,  and  he  ate  with  the  rest  of  them.
"Remember  I  asked  it,  'Do  you  know  who  killed Jefferies and Peeks?' " said Diane after a moment. "It said, 'No. But you should have asked a better question.
Remember  I  am  a  computer.'  I  told  it  I  didn't  know what  it  meant  and  it  said,  'Good.'  I  asked  it  if  it  was lying  and  it  said,  'I  am  exactly  not  lying.' "
"You  remember  all  that?"  said  Neva.
"It  was  an  odd  conversation,"  said  Diane.
"I  know,  but  still ..."  Neva  let  the  sentence  trail off.
"So,"  said  David,  "if  you  had  said,  'Do  you  know who killed Jefferies or Peeks,' you would have gotten a  different  answer."
"Yes,"  said  Diane,  "exactly."
"You  got  me  on  that  one,"  said  Izzy.
  "The  words  and  and  or  are  very  important  when you are talking to a computer," said David, "or a guy, or  gal,  pretending  to  be  a  computer."
  He  left  his  steak  and  went  to  Jonas'  computer  and started  plugging  it  in.  Diane  took  one  more  bite  of her salmon and joined him. Gradually the others came over too, all looking over his shoulder. He plugged in a  ?ash  drive  before  he  booted  up.
The  computer  came  to  life  with  a  low  whirring sound  and  the  glow  of  the  screen.  Other  than  that, nothing  happened.  No  offers  to  play  chess,  no  simu­ lated  voice,  no  ghost.
"Well,  damn,"  said  Jin.  "You  think  it's  me?"
"Yeah, Jin, it's you. He doesn't like you. If you left, he'd  come  back,"  said  Neva,  rolling  her  eyes.
David started typing, and several windows came up on  the  screen;  one  of  them  showed  what  looked  to Diane  like  machine  language.  Presumably  David  was searching  for an  errant  program.  After a  few  minutes she went back to her food, as did everyone else except Frank.  He  and  David  sat,  heads  together,  over  the computer, muttering to each other. Diane couldn't un­ derstand  anything  they  were  saying.  She  was  taking the last bite of her baked sweet potato when she heard the  voice.
"Hello,  Jonas.  How  about  a  nice  game  of  chess?"
"How  very  WarGames!"  cried Jin.  He  was  the  ?rst to  the  computer.  "Yes;  say  yes."
"Jin, will you please contain yourself in some way?" said  David.
David  and  Frank  watched  the  split  windows  as  the voice  spoke.
"You  want  to  talk  to  it?"  said  David  to  Diane.
Diane  sat  down  at  the  keyboard.  This  is  not  Jonas.
It  is  Diane,  she  typed.
"Hello,  Diane.  This  is  a  surprise.  You  are  on  Jonas' computer."
Yes.  You  startled  Jonas,  Diane  typed.
"I  am  sorry.  I  did  not  mean  to.  I  just  wanted  to play  chess."
Why?  Diane  typed.
"I  know  how  to  play  chess  and  so  does  he.  It  is something  we  have  in  common,"  it  said.
How do you know Jonas knows how to play chess?
Diane  typed.
"He  has  Chessmaster  on  his  computer.  I  found  it," it  said.  "Jonas  beat  Chessmaster  twelve  times.  Do  you play  chess,  Diane?"
Yes.  Jonas  and  I  play  often,  Diane  typed.
"Chess  is  good,"  it  said.
"This  is  just  so  cool,"  said  Jin.
"This  is  a  computer  program,"  said  David,  looking at  Diane.  "It's  not  a  guy  on  instant  messages."
"You  are  looking  at  me,  Diane,"  it  said.  "I  see  it."
That  is  David  and  Frank  looking  at  you,  Diane typed.
"Dave  and  Frank.  That  is  so  funny.  Do  you  know how  that  is  funny,  Diane?"  it  said.
"Okay,  that  was  just  plain  weird,"  said  Neva.
Yes.  Those  are  the  names  of  the  astronauts  in  2001:  A  Space  Odyssey,  Diane  typed.  They  talked  to  HAL, a  computer.  You  are  not  like  HAL,  are  you?
"No, I am not like HAL," it said. "HAL is not real."
I  need  to  ask  you  a  question.  Do  you  know  who killed  Jefferies  or  Peeks?  she  typed.
"You  asked  the  right  question.  I  will  answer  you.
Yes,  I  know.  Do  you?"  it  asked.
No,  typed  Diane.  Will  you  tell  me?
"No. That is not a good thing to talk about," it said.
"I  have  to  go  now.  I  have  enjoyed  talking  with  you, Diane, but this conversation can serve no purpose any­ more," it said, quoting a line from the movie. "I made a  joke.  Did  you  get  it?  Good-bye."
Diane  tried  several  more  questions,  but  she  got  no response.
"It  deleted  itself,"  said  David.
"Can  you  undelete  it?"  asked  Diane.
"I'll try, but I think that  last message was designed to  tell  the  program  the  game  was  over,  so  to  speak," said  David.
  "I  can  see  I'm  going  to  have  to  spend  more  time at  the  movies,"  said  Izzy.  "Or  reading  books,"  he added.
"That   was   just   the   coolest   thing,"   said   Jin.
"Where  did  it  come  from?  Did  it  jump  into  the system?"
"Yes," said Frank. "That it did. What do you make of  it,  Diane?"
"It  was  a  confession,"  she  said.
"I   think   you're  reading   too   much   into  it,"   said David. "AI programs can be very convincing, but they aren't  sentient  by  a  long  shot."
"I  agree,"  said  Frank.  "This  was  aimed  at  you, Diane.  Whoever  it  was  knew  you  and  probably  knew you  are  a  science  ?ction  fan."
"Perhaps,"  said  Diane,  "but  to  what  purpose?"
"I  don't  know,"  said  David.
"The  main  purpose  of  the  program  was  to  pass  on information,"  said  Frank.
"And then what?" said Diane. "Play chess? I'm not saying  the  thing  is  sentient,  for  heaven's  sake,  but  I think  whoever  programmed  it  is  the  killer.  I  think  it is one of the hackers and I think they want to confess, but  can't  manage  to  do  it  in  person."
No one said anything. Diane took that to mean they disagreed  with  her.
Diane  looked  at  Frank.  "What  do  you  know  of this  Black  Light?"   she  said.   "Isn't  that  who  you thought   wrote   the   message   inside   the   computer case?"
"All I know is a name. He came up in our investiga­ tion  only  in  passing.  Shogun-Malcolm  Chen-men­ tioned  him  in  e-mails  in  terms  that  suggested  that  he thought  Black  Light  was  the  best  hacker.  But  I  have no  information  on  places  he  might  have  hacked.  If he's  active,  then  he  is  good,  because  he  isn't  on  any­ one's  radar."
"We can contact some of the people on the list and see  if  they  know  him,"  said  Diane.
Frank  nodded.  "We  can  do  that  tomorrow.  I  faxed 	Beverly  Connor the  list  to  my  partner.  I'll  call  him  to  see  what  he's found  out."
"I think it's all but wrapped up," said Jin. "We have a  lot  of  details  to  uncover,  but  I  think  Diane's  right.
The cyberghost did it. It may  not be sentient, but the person  behind  it  is."
"I  agree,"  said  Diane.  "Now,"  she  said  to  David, "do  I  have  a  virus  in  my  system?"
David  shook  his  head.  "I'll  examine  the  program, but  I  don't  think  so.  I  think  it's  dead  now."
"You mean we can't start the whole thing up again if  we  scan  my  eye?"  said  Diane.
"No,"  said  David.  "I  think  it  was  programmed  to know  when  it  was  done."
"Why  did  it  escape  from  Jefferies'  computer  into the  museum  system?"  asked  Diane.
"I  don't  know,"  said  David.
"It  wasn't  ?nished  delivering  the  message,"  said Neva.  "It's  kind  of  like  an  angel."
"Angel?"  said  Izzy.  "How's  that?"
"They're messengers," said Neva. "Not all messages are  good.  This  was  a  messenger  from  it's  creator- Black  Light,  or  whoever."
Frank  built a  ?re, and  he and  Diane sat  in  front of it  and  watched  the  ?ames.  Earlier,  Frank  had  called his  partner  and  the  two  of  them  discussed  everything they  knew  about  Black  Light,  which  took  about  ?ve minutes.  They  didn't  really  know  if  he  existed  or  was a  fantasy  made  up  by  a  few  hackers.  Frank  decided they  should  contact  all  the  hackers  who  had  men­ tioned   Black   Light   in   their   correspondence.   That would be the best bet. He was thinking the cyberghost would  be  one  of  them.
"I'll contact the university too," said Frank. "ACM may  know  something.  They  deal  with  a  lot  of  gifted computer  programmers."
Diane  nodded.  Then  her  eyes  got  wide  and  she  sat up  and  looked  at  Frank.
"What?"  he  said.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "HAL. Did  you know, if  you advance one  letter in the alphabet, HAL turns into IBM? Arthur C. Clarke said  it  was  unintentional,  but  it's  kind  of  cool."
  "I  agree,"  said  Frank.  "It's  cool.  So ...  why  did that  make  you  suddenly  sit  up  and  take  notice?"
"If  you  do  the  same  to  Black  Light,  BL,  you  get CM,"  she  said.  "I  know  who  Black  Light  is."
Chapter 49
"Who  is  CM?"  asked  Frank.  "I  don't  remember  a mention  of  a  CM."
  "Because,  like  your  Black  Light,  he  is  completely under the radar. He's a student in Advanced Compu­ tational Methods, he quit his job at a bank right after the  murders  of  Jefferies  and  Peeks,  and  he  took  a photograph  of  me just  a  few  days ago  with  his  digital camera.  His  name  is  Caleb  Miller  and  he  is  a  great kid  who  loves  his  brother,  does  well  in  school,  and- I  hope  I'm  wrong."
"I  haven't  heard  the  name,"  said  Frank,  as  if  that was in Caleb's favor. "Malcolm Chen's initials are CM backwards, as in  Chen, Malcolm. I don't know  if that mean's  anything,  but  there  it  is."
Diane  nodded.  "And  he  was  a  hacker.  But  was  he a  programmer?  Aren't  there  different  levels  of  skill among  hackers?"  she  asked.  "And  he  has  been  dead for  a  couple  of  months."
"There  are  levels,  and  programmers  are  the  top  of the  hacker  pyramid  in  many  cases,  but  the  levels  are very  blurred.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  know  if Chen was a programmer. And yes, he's been dead for months,  but  his  program-if  it  is  his  program-could remain  active  years  after  his  death."
"We still have the same problem: Why contact me?
At the time of his death, Chen wouldn't have any idea that I would be back in charge of the crime lab. Caleb would  know  that  I  am,"  said  Diane.
  She  looked  at  her  watch.  It  was  a  little  after  ten p.m. "We  have  to  go  see  him,"  she  said.
"Do you know where he lives?" said Frank. "We'll have  to  ask  Janice  to  go  with  us."
"He's  not  in  her  jurisdiction,"  she  said.
Diane called Sheriff Bruce Can?eld and gave him a brief  summary  of  why  she needed  to  talk  with  Caleb.
"I  know  Caleb  is  involved  in  computers,  but  I  ?nd it hard to believe he would be mixed up in this," said the sheriff. "He's a nice young man. He's never given his  grandparents  a  minute's  trouble.  Neither  of  the boys  have."
"From  the  brief  times  I  met  with  him,  I  found  him to  be  a  great  kid  too,"  said  Diane,  "but  I  would  like to  speak  with  him  just  the  same."
"Can't  this  wait  until  tomorrow?  It's  mighty  late.
The  Wilsons  are  farmers,"  he  said.  "They  go  to  bed early  and  get  up  early."
"It would be good if we could get this done soon," said  Diane.
"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  sheriff.  "I  just  remem­ bered.  My  cousin  does  some  of  Arlen's  chores  when he has to be out of town, and he mentioned something about Arlen going into Atlanta with the family to visit the boys' Miller kin. He said they would be back late.
We may catch them up. Meet me at my of?ce and I'll drive  you  out  there.  But  I  have  to  tell  you,  I  think this  is  thin."
"I agree that it is not conclusive," said Diane. "But Caleb  may know  some of  the people  we're interested in  because  of  the  classes  he  takes  at  the  university.
He may be able to help us with the program that was on  Jefferies'  computer  if  we  describe  it  to  him."
"All  this  computer  stuff  is  just  so  much  Greek  to me.  I'll  see  you  at  my  of?ce.  I'm  driving  my  pickup.
It's a big silver Super Duty. I'll be out front. Are you bringing  Rosewood  detectives?"
"No.  Frank  will  be  with  me,"  said  Diane.
"That's okay then. I don't want Rosewood thinking they  can  cross  the  city  limits  anytime  they  want."
  Frank  drove  out  to  the  Rose  County  Sheriff's  Of­ ?ce.  Bruce  Can?eld  was  waiting  for  them  when  they drove  up,  standing  by  his  silver  truck  dressed  not  in his  uniform,  but  in  jeans,  a  ?annel  shirt,  and  an  open ?eece-lined  denim  jacket.
  He  and  Frank  shook  hands  and  they  climbed  into the  cab  of  the  truck.  Diane  sat  between  them.
  "Buckle up. I didn't call to tell them we're coming, just  in  case  you're  right  and  he  is  involved  in  this somehow.  But  I'll  be  real  surprised  if  he  is."
  "Me  too,"  said  Diane,  fastening  her  seat  belt.  "By the way, we found out Bryce had a man named Curtis Crabtree  throw  your  bones  in  the  river."
"That  son  of  a  bitch  threw  them  in  the  river?  I ought  to  make  him  wade  out  until  he  ?nds  them."
As  the  sheriff  drove  out  to  Arlen  Wilson's  farm, Diane  and  Frank  gave  him  a  rundown  on  current events.  The  sheriff  whistled.
"If  that's  not  just  the  worst  bunch  of ..."  Words seemed to fail him. "You're telling me they were plan­ ning on killing you and Mrs. Van Ross? What is Rose­ wood coming to? When that Jefferies was running for mayor,  I  didn't  like  him  one  bit.  Too  slick.  But  of course  it  didn't  matter,  since  I  wasn't  voting  in  that election. The wife said he couldn't be trusted. She saw his  picture  in  the  paper  with  the  governor  a  lot.  Said she  didn't  like  his  face.  'Course,  the  wife  doesn't  like any  politicians.  I  wasn't  fond  of  Mayor  Sutton,  but he's a  damn sight better  than Jefferies was.  You peo­ ple sure know how to pick 'em. Now, I've heard peo­ ple say some real nice things about Edward Van Ross.
That family's been around here a long time. I know a lot of  people would like to  see him run  in the special election.  You  think  he  will?"
Diane liked Can?eld, but he surely was a talker. "I don't  know,"  she  said.  "Sutton  wanted  to  know  the same  thing  when  I  spoke  with  him."
The sheriff laughed out loud. "I'll bet he did. So let me  get  this  straight.  Jefferies  was  running  some  kind SCATTERED  GRAVES of  cybergang  that  stole  peoples'  identities-like  run­ ning  up  their  credit  cards  and  stuff  like  that?"
"Or  borrowing  money  from  a  mortgage  company using a victim's house as collateral, then pocketing the money and defaulting on the loan," said Frank. "They also  apply  for  new  credit  cards  with  a  stolen  identity and  register  a  change  of  address  for  the  victim.  That way,  the  bills  never  reach  the  victim  and  he  never even knows what has happened until thousands of dol­ lars in charges have been rung up. They have a thou­ sand  different  ways  to  steal  money  from  you  if  they have  the  right  information,"  said  Frank.
"That  just  boggles  the  mind.  I  guess  you  get  a  lot of that kind of thing in Atlanta." Can?eld said Atlanta the same way he would have said Sodom or Gomorrah.
"We  do.  But  it's  everywhere.  I  imagine  you  get  a lot  here  in  the  county,  but  most  of  the  time  people don't  report it.  They  just try  to settle  it  with the  card companies.  It  takes  a  couple  of  years  on  the  average for  a  person  to  get  their  credit  straightened  out."
Can?eld turned off the highway onto a dirt road. It was in good condition but still a little rough for Diane.
There weren't many houses in the area-mostly farms.
It was beautiful in the daylight, but all that was visible in the dark was the road ahead, running between farm fences,  patches  of  woods,  and  an  occasional  pair  of animal eyes shining back from the darkness. The sher­ iff turned down another dirt road, and Diane thought she  saw  a  mailbox  at  the  intersection  with  the  name Wilson  on  it,  but  she  wasn't  sure.  He  drove  another half  mile  or  so  until  he  came  to  a  white  one-story farmhouse.  In  the  truck's  headlights  she  could  see  a red  barn  about  a  hundred  feet  from  the  house.
There were lights on inside the house and a car and two pickup trucks were parked in the drive. They got out of the sheriff's truck and walked up to the house.
The  sheriff knocked,  and  Diane  heard footsteps  com­ ing  to  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  a  woman  whom Diane  assumed  to  be  Mrs. Wilson.
	Beverly  Connor   An   electric   shock   ran   through   Diane.   Not   even thinking, her heart pounding, she sucked in her breath, readying  herself  to  jump  out  of  danger.  It  was  the kind of autonomic fear response that comes from step­ ping  on  a  snake.
  But it was not a snake. There was no place to jump. It was a man standing in the shadow behind the open door.  He  was  pointing  a  gun  straight  at  Diane.
  In the same instant she saw him, Diane realized that one  of  the  pickup  trucks  in  the  driveway  was  a  dark Ford  Ranger-just  like  the  perp  had  used  at  the  mu­ seum.  The  one  that  had  tried  to  run  her  down.
Chapter 50
It was the gun that Diane's eyes froze on. A big, high- caliber  silver  and  black  thing, one  that  would  make  a big entry hole and an even bigger exit hole. Her gaze shifted to the face of the man holding the gun. It was Curtis Crabtree. She glanced at his left hand, the one not  holding  the  gun.  It  was  wrapped  in  a  bandage meant  to  immobilize  the  thumb.  He  probably  had  a bite  mark  on  his  ankle.
  Frank  was  just  behind  Diane.  He  had  a  hand  on her upper arm, holding her tight in his grip. The three of them were stuck on the porch in the open doorway. No  way  to  ?ee,  not  wanting  to  enter  the  house.
  "Well,  I'll  be  damned,"  said  Curtis.  "Aren't  we  in luck?  Just  the  person  we  needed  to  see.  Gage,  when the  boy  gets  here  we'll  have  everything  we  need." Gage?  There  was  someone  else  in  the  room.  Gage Shipman,  the  third-?oor  overlook  troll.  Great.  Two hotheads  with  guns.
  Diane  looked at  Mrs. Wilson.  She was  dressed in  a blue  ?owered  robe  and  had  rollers  in  her  hair  and  a grave  look  on  her  face.  Diane  could  see  she  was trembling.  She  didn't  blame  her.  She  was  about  to start  shaking  herself.
  "Now,  hold  on  here,"  said  the  sheriff.  "What  do you  think  you're  up  to?"
  "Getting  us  a  truckload  of  money.  Now,  get  in here." Curtis backed up, pulling Mrs. Wilson with him.
"Do  it,"  he  barked  at  them,  "or  I'll  start  shooting.
Gage  and  me  only  need  one  hostage  apiece,  so  a  lot of  you  are  just  extra.  Now,  get  in  here  and  sit  your asses  down.  You,  put  your  gun  on  the  table,"  said Curtis,  aiming  his  gun  at  the  sheriff.
  The sheriff complied and the three of them went in and  sat  down  together  on  a  sofa.  Mrs. Wilson  sat  in a  straight-backed  chair.
Diane  was sure  the three  of them-she,  the sheriff, and  Frank-were thinking  the same  thing, and  hoped it  didn't  show  on  their  faces.  Curtis  and  Gage  didn't know Frank was a detective and they hadn't searched him  for  a  gun.  A  bit  of  good  luck.  But  it  also  meant they  were  probably  high  on  something  and  weren't thinking  clearly.  A  bad  situation.
The   problem   was,   Frank's   gun   was   inside   his zipped-up  suede  jacket.  Not  easily  accessible  at  the moment,  but  it  was  there.  A  small  kernel  of  luck  on their  side.
Gage Shipman grinned at Diane. He had Henry sit­ ting on the ?oor next to his chair, a gun near Henry's head but not pointing at him. Arlen Wilson was sitting in  an  easy  chair  that  was  probably  where  he  sat  to watch television. He had blood running down the side of his face. Probably hit with a gun when the two men came in  the house. He was  dressed in his  pajamas, as was  Henry.
"What exactly are you doing here?" said the sheriff.
Frank   sat   quietly   with   his   arms   folded.   Diane guessed  that  he  wouldn't  say  much  lest  he  be  outed as  a  detective.  She  tried  to  think  of  some  way  to  dis­ tract the two thugs so Frank could get at his gun. But one  thing  she  remembered  Frank  telling  her-it's  not the  gun  you  have  that's  important;  it's  the  gun  the other  guy  has.
Curtis  and  Gage  ignored  the  sheriff.
"Who's this guy?" Curtis pointed his gun at Frank.
"Boyfriend,"  said  Frank.
"You mean you've actually got a boyfriend?" Curtis said  to  Diane.  "Well,  no  accounting  for  taste.  What do  you  do?"  he  asked  Frank.
"Accounting,"  Frank  said.
"Accounting?"  He  laughed  as  if  that  were  a  joke.
"Hey, Gage, we have an accountant." He emphasized each   syllable.   "Maybe   he   can   help   us   count   our money."
"I told you, we don't have any money," said Arlen Wilson.  "We're  just  farmers.  Just  leave  us  alone.  We ain't  rich  folks."
"I  know,  you  dumb  ass," said  Curtis.  "Caleb  is  the one  who  knows  how  to  get  the  money.  I  told  you."
He slurred his words just enough that Diane was sure Curtis  was  high  on  something.
"Caleb's  just  a  student,"  said  Mrs. Wilson.  "He don't  have  any  money."
Curtis  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  looked  at the  ceiling,  and  gestured,  palms  up.  Diane  was  afraid the  gun  would  go  off  accidently.
"Is  everybody  in  here  stupid?"  he  said.
He  went  over  to  Mrs. Wilson  and  stared  at  her, nose  to  nose.  She  cringed  back  in  her  seat.
"Look,  you  dumb  old  woman,  I  didn't  say  he  has money.  I  said  he  can  get  it.  Get  it?  He  can  get  it."
"Stop calling my grandparents names," said Henry.
"They're  smarter  than  you  are."
"Yeah? Well if they're so smart, how come I'm the one  here  holding  the  gun?  Tell  me  that."
"What money are you talking about?" said the sher­ iff. "What money could a college student get his hands on  that's  got  you  boys  so  riled  up  and  raring  to  go?"
Curtis  looked  at  him  for  a  long  moment.  "It's  in  a bank. The kid knows how to get the account numbers and passwords off  a computer," he said. "It's  a lot of money,  and  Gage  and  me's  going  to  get  it,  with  the help of Caleb and the Fallon woman. Now, are we all on  the  same  page  here?"
"Caleb won't help the likes of you," said Mrs. Wil­ son.  Apparently the  presence  of  the sheriff  and  other people  was  making  her  more  courageous.
Curtis walked over to Henry and patted him on the cheek.  Henry  shrunk  back  away  from  his  hand.
  "We know Caleb will do anything to keep his little brother  safe.  Anything."
His voice was suddenly very calm, and it frightened Diane  more  than  when  he  was  yelling.
"Where  is  Caleb?"  asked  the  sheriff.
"He's  out  on  a  date,"  said  Mrs. Wilson.  "A  girl  in one  of  his  classes."
"When  will  he  be  getting  back?"  said  the  sheriff.
"He  doesn't  have  a  curfew,"  said  Arlen  Wilson.
"He's  a  grown  man  now.  I  don't  know  when  he'll be  in."
"Why  are  you  guys  here?"  said  Gage,  apparently just  now  thinking  to  ask.
"The  same  reason  you  are,"  said  Diane.  "We've been  trying  to  get  into  the  mayor's  computer.  We know Caleb is good with computers so we thought we would  ask  him  if  he  could  break  the  code."
"Oh,  he  can  break  it  all  right,"  said  Curtis.  "He probably  wrote  it."
"Caleb   doesn't   do   things   like   that,"   said   Mrs.
Wilson.
"Why don't you allow Mrs. Wilson and me to make some coffee?" said  Diane. "It looks like we  might be here  a  while."
Curtis  thought  a  moment.  He  looked  at  Gage,  who shrugged.
"All  right.  But  I'm  going  to  stand  in  the  doorway and  watch.  Don't  try  to  get  a  knife  or  anything,"  he said.
"We'll  just  put  on  some  coffee,"  said  Diane.  "Try­ ing  to  make  things  a  little  easier,  that's  all."
"Tell  you  what,  Curtis,"  said  Gage.  "You  watch young  Henry,  and  I'll  watch  them  in  the  kitchen."
"Whatever,"   said   Curtis.   He   went   over   and   sat down  in  the  chair  vacated  by  Gage  Shipman.
Diane  helped  Mrs. Wilson  into  the  kitchen.  Ship- man  followed  and  stood  close  to  Diane.  He  grinned at  her,  and  Diane  could  see  he  was  just  dying  to  get even   with   her   for   the   incident   on   the   third-?oor overlook.
  But  they  needed  her.  When  Caleb  came,  it  would be her, Henry, and Caleb that they needed-Henry to be  a  hostage  to  make  Caleb  do  the  work,  and  Diane to  get  the  computer.
  Frank  and  the  others  would  be  just  excess  baggage then. Diane had no doubt  they would shoot Frank, the sheriff,  and  the  Wilsons  when  Caleb  got  there.  The thought  terri?ed  her.
  She or Frank or the sheriff would have to do some­ thing  before  then.  Unfortunately,  she  couldn't  think of  a thing  to  do. The  best  she could  come  up with  so far was to split them up and give Curtis fewer targets if Frank tried something. Perhaps Frank and the sher­ iff  would  come  up  with  a  plan.  The  problem  was Henry.  He  was  too  close  to  Curtis.
Shipman  put  a  hand  on  the  back  of  Diane's  hair and  ?ipped  it.  She  brushed  him  away  as  she  rinsed out  the  coffeepot.  It  was  clean,  but  she  was  trying  to waste  time.  Mrs. Wilson  seemed  to  understand.  She slowly  laid  out  coffee  ?lters,  a  measuring  spoon,  and several  cups.
Shipman  put  his  ?ngertips  on  Diane's  neck,  then her cheek. She brushed his hands away. She ?lled the pot  with  water  and  turned off  the  faucet.  He  reached up  to  tickle  her  ear  and  she  turned  to  him.
"Did  you  never  get  out  of  third  grade?"  she  said.
"I'm  just  being  nice,"  he  said,  grinning.  "Doesn't your  accountant  boyfriend  ever  touch  you  like  this?"
He reached for her ear again, sticking out his tongue.
"What kind of coffee?" Mrs. Wilson said. "We have some  chocolate  raspberry  that's  good  and  some  va­ nilla.  We  have  the  regular  kind  too."
"Chocolate  raspberry  sounds  just  ?ne,"  said  Ship- man.  "I  bet  you  like  chocolate  raspberry,"  he  said  to Diane.   She   slapped   his   hand   away   again   and   he laughed.  "We  might  have  a  long  night  ahead  of  us.
We'll  have  to  ?nd  something  to  entertain  ourselves with."
Diane  had  the  coffeepot  ?lled  with  water  in  her right  hand.  It  had  weight  to  it.  One  good  hit  and  she 	Beverly  Connor could  knock  the  gun  from  his  hand  just  as  she  had with  the  rock  and  Harve  Delamore's  gun.
  "Don't  go  thinking  about  trying  anything  with  that pot,"  said  Shipman.  "You'd  just  make  me  mad."  He laughed  and  for  a  moment  Diane  wondered  how  she telegraphed  her  intentions.
  "I  wouldn't  dream  of  it,"  she  said.  "If  we  all  stay calm,  we  can  all  get  what  we  want."
  "What  we  want.  You  know  what  I'm  wanting  right now?"  Shipman  caressed  her  cheek  with  the  knuckle of  his  index  ?nger.
Diane  handed  the  pot  to  Mrs. Wilson,  who  slipped a knife in her hand at the same time. It startled Diane, and  she  almost  jumped.  It  was  small  and  it  was  for peeling  potatoes-not  one  that  would  cut.  She  wasn't sure  what  help  it  would  be,  but  it  was  obviously  the only  one  that  Mrs. Wilson  could  get  her  hands  on.
Diane  held  the  knife  to  her  side,  trying  to  come  up with  a  plan.
"Mrs. Wilson,"  said  Shipman,  "would  you  like  to watch as I bend Diane here over your kitchen table?"
Mrs. Wilson  sucked  in  her  breath.  "Don't  do  that.
Why  would  you  do  that?"
"To  fucking  get  even!"  he  shouted  and  slapped Diane  at  the  same  time.
Diane  hadn't  seen  it  coming.  She  fell  to  the  ?oor, hitting  her  elbow.  Electric  pain  coursed  through  her arm  where  the  hard  surface  of  the  ?oor  hit  a  nerve bundle.  She  bit  her  lip  to  keep  from  yelling  out  and causing  Frank  to  take  some  action  before  he  was ready.  She  heard  Mrs. Wilson  suck  in  her  breath  and let out a whimper. Diane held on to the knife as Ship- man  reached  down  and  jerked  her  up  by  her  other arm.
"Mrs. Wilson,"  said  Shipman,  "while  the  coffee's making  you  can  go  sit  by  your  husband.  Diane  and  I want  to  be  alone."
"Don't  do  this,  young  man,"  said  Mrs. Wilson.
"You want to be next? Fucking do what I tell you," he  said  through  his  clenched  teeth.
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  "It's all right, Mrs. Wilson," said Diane. "Why don't you  go  back  in  with  the  others?"
  "See,  she  wants  it  too,"  said  Shipman  grinning. Diane  watched  Mrs. Wilson  slowly  walk  out  of  the kitchen.  She  was  softly  crying.
  "Now, bitch . . ." Shipman laid the barrel of his gun beside  her  head.  "Bend  over."
Chapter 51
"No,"  said  Diane.  She  stood  up  straight  and  looked him  in  the  eyes.  "That  isn't  going  to  happen."
  "It isn't, huh?" He put the barrel of the gun to her temple. "You rather I blow your brains out instead?" He put his face close to her ear, still gripping her arm tight  with  his  right  hand.  "That  might  just  be  more fun-watching  your  brains  splatter  all  over  the  old lady's  refrigerator."
He laughed and Diane smelled the odor of alcohol.
"Except  it  would  be  over  too  fast,"  he  said.  "One squeeze  . .  ."  He pushed  the  gun until  the  end of  the barrel  hurt  against  her  skin.  "Bang,  it's  all  over."
"Instead  of  bang,  bang,  and  it's  all  over?"  said Diane.
She  wanted  to  make  him  mad,  make  him  let  go  of her  even  if  it  was  to  hit  her.  She  needed  an  opening.
She  needed  him  to  be  distracted-just  for  a  second.
It  took  him  a  moment  to  understand  he  had  been insulted.  He  just  looked  at  her,  processing  her  words in  his  alcohol-fogged  brain.
Suddenly  he  got  it.  His  face  twisted  in  anger.
"Is that what you think? You damn fucking bitch."
He  glared  at  her  and  lay  the  gun  down  on  the counter,  and  in  one  angry  move  pulled  his  arm  back, his  hand  balled  into  a  powerful  ?st.
It  was  now  or  never.
Diane  rammed  the  knife  with  all  her  strength  into the hollow of Shipman's throat just above the sternum. He would have yelled, but she had pierced his trachea and  cut  off  the  air  ?ow  to  his  larynx.
  In sudden panic he grabbed at his throat and pulled at the knife. The dull serrated edges made it stick fast. Diane grabbed the gun as he struggled to breathe and hit   him   across   the   temple.   He   went   down   like   a fallen  tree.
  She  was  almost  to  the  living  room  when  she  saw headlights  re?ect  against  the  wall.  Caleb  was  home.
"Gage,  here  he  comes.  Get  in  here,"  yelled  Crab­ tree.
Diane  quickly  and  quietly  retraced  her  steps  and headed  for  the  kitchen  door.  Her  hand  was  on  the knob  when  the  loud  report  of  two  shots  ?lled  the house.
"No,  please,"  she  whispered.
She  ran  to  the  living  room,  gun  in  hand  pointing straight   ahead.   Frank   was   bending   over   Crabtree.
Henry  was  almost  to  the front  door,  the  sheriff  going after  him,  when  a  voice  came  from  the  porch.
"Whoever's  in  there,  if  you've  hurt  my  family,  I'll kill  you.  You  won't  get  out  of  the  house."
"Caleb," yelled Henry. "It's okay. We're all right."
He  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it  and  hugged  his brother.
Caleb walked in, wide-eyed, surveying the room. He saw his grandparents huddled together and went over to  them.  Henry  followed.
Diane   still   had   the   gun   aiming   toward   where Crabtree  had  been  sitting.  She  slowly  dropped  her arm.
Crabtree  was  on  the  ?oor,  bleeding  from  his  chest.
Diane  knelt  beside  Frank  and  leaned  against  him.
"I  was  afraid  it  was  you,"  she  said.
"I'm  ?ne.  Are  you  all  right?"  he  said.  "I  was ... afraid  for  you.  Crabtree  had  his  gun  on  Henry  the whole  time . .  ."
"I'm  ?ne,"  she  said.  "Thanks  to  Mrs. Wilson.  She managed  to  slip  me  a  potato  peeler.  Fine  weapons, potato  peelers."  Diane  was  shaking  and  she  hugged Frank  closer,  trying  to  stop  shivering.
  Fortunately, like Delamore, Shipman was a taunter. Taunters  waste  a  lot  of  time-time  enough  for  Diane to  have  formulated  a  plan.  Things  could  have  turned out so different. Diane fought back a wave of nausea. She  looked  down  at  Curtis  Crabtree.  He  was  shot twice  in  the  chest,  but  he  wasn't  dead.  His  breathing was  fast  and  shallow.  Frank  took  a  throw  from  the chair  and  applied  pressure  to  his  chest.
  Sheriff Can?eld walked toward the kitchen to check on  Shipman,  his  own  gun  in  his  hand.  After  a  while she  heard  his  voice  speaking  to  someone.  He  came back  several  moments  later.
  "I called for an ambulance," said the sheriff. "He's not  dead,  but  his  breathing  is  real  bad.  I  didn't  know if  I  should  take  the  knife  out  or  not."
Another chill ran through Diane. She leaned against Frank  again  as  he  tended  to  Curtis.
"What  happened  in  here?"  she  asked.
"I'd  been  mentally  rehearsing  how  I  was  going  to get  at  my  gun,  when  Caleb  drove  up.  Henry  made  a dash  for  the  door.  He  was  so  quick,  it  caught  Curtis off guard. He started after him, but Henry was too far away to reach quickly. Crabtree realized his mistake in going  after  Henry,  so  he  turned  around,  but  by  that time I had my gun and shot him. It was all very fast."
Crabtree  turned  his  head  and  looked  up  at  Caleb.
There  was  a  lot  of  hate  in  his  eyes,  but  nothing  com­ pared  to  the  black  hatred  in  Caleb's  eyes.
"Who are these people?" asked Mrs. Wilson. "Caleb, what  have  you  to  do  with  these  people?"
Mrs. Wilson's  question  remained  unanswered  while the  sheriff  tended  to  the  aftermath.  The  ambulance came and took both Shipman and Crabtree to the hos­ pital. Several Rose County deputies arrived and stood on  the  porch,  guarding  it,  Diane  guessed.  She  wasn't sure  from  whom.  It  could  have  been  from  another  of Jefferies' thugs, or it could have been from the Rose­ wood  police  in  case  they  decided  to  show  up.
The sheriff called his wife and brie?y told her what had  happened  and  that  Henry  would  be  staying  the night  with  them.  Henry  didn't  want  to  go,  but  Caleb talked  him  into  it.  Caleb  wanted  to  tell  his  story,  but he  didn't  want  his  little  brother  to  hear  it.  A  deputy left  with  Henry.
"Okay,  Caleb,"  said  the  sheriff,  "we're  listening.
You  know  you  can  have  a  lawyer,  don't  you?"
"Yes,  I  know. But  right  now  I  just  want to  get  this off  my  chest."
They  were  sitting  in  the  living  room.  Mrs. Wilson had put a rug over Crabtree's bloodstains. Mr. Wilson had declined to go to the hospital for examination. He was holding ice in a ziplock bag to the side of his head where  he  had  been  struck.  He  and  Mrs. Wilson  were still  in  their  pajamas  and  robes,  but  Mrs. Wilson  had taken the rollers out of her hair. She sat on the couch with  her  husband  and  motioned  for  Caleb  to  sit  be­ tween  them.  But  he  shook  his  head.
"I'll  sit  right  here,"  he  said  and  took  a  seat  across from  the  sheriff.
Diane  and Frank  pulled  up dining  room chairs.  All eyes  were  on  Caleb.  He  looked  so  thin  and  small.
He glanced over at Diane. "You got my message?" he  asked.
"If  you  are  the  ghost  in  the  machine,"  said  Diane.
"That's  why  we're  here.  We  ?gured  out  it  was  you."
He  smiled.  "I'm  a  little  surprised.  I  thought,  if  you ?gure  it  out,  that's  ?ne,  but  if  you  don't,  then  maybe it  was  meant  for  me  to  be  home  free."
"Free  from  what,  Caleb?"  asked  Mr. Wilson.
"The  things  I've  done,"  he  said.
"Did  Spence  Jefferies  recruit  you?"  asked  Diane.
"Not  the  way  he  did  other  people.  He  recruited Malcolm  Chen.  Malcolm  was  my  friend.  He's  the  one who  came  up  with  the  Black  Light  thing.  I  thought  it was  kind of  silly,  but  he  thought  it was  cool. He  knew 	Beverly  Connor I   like   the   movies   WarGames   and   2001:   A   Space Odyssey."
"You  wrote  the  AI  program?"  said  Frank.
Caleb  nodded.  "I  wanted  to  write  a  program  that could be used maybe to help the disabled use comput­ ers  more  easily,  or  maybe  in  business.  Like  it  could just ?ow around in the network keeping track of what people  are  doing.  And  if  someone  on  the  ?fth  ?oor could  use  the  information  that  someone  on  the  ?rst ?oor  had,  the  program  could  tell  them.  That  kind  of thing."
"It  seemed  real,"  said  Diane.  "For  a  long  time  we thought  it  was  someone  using  some  kind  of  instant- messaging  program."
Caleb  smiled.  "I  started  by  writing  a  chess-playing algorithm.  Playing  chess  is  one  of  the  best  things  to start  programming  with.  It  has  pure  rules,  but  it  also has  strategies  and  thinking  ahead,  and  personality.
There's lots of chess programs out there, but I wanted to  write  my  own  for  the  practice.  It  looks  for  people to  play  with;  you  may  have  found  that  out."
"Yes,  it  found  its  way  to  Jonas  Briggs'  computer and  asked  him  to  play.  He  was  rather  surprised," said  Diane.
Caleb  smiled.  "It's  almost  become  a  bug  in  the  pro­ gram,"  he  said.  "I  started  by  teaching  it  to  look  for people who play. I tried to change it, but it won't stop."
"But  it's  more  than  a  chess  program  now,"  said Frank.
Caleb nodded. "I gave it a database of information.
A  fairly  large  one.  I  was  trying  to  get  it  to  learn,  so when  it  gets  new  information,  it  compares  it  to  what it  knows.  If  there  is  no  con?ict,  it  keeps  it  and  stores it  according  to  a  hierarchy  of  probable  accuracy- another  algorithm  I  worked  out."
"How  did you  make  it  sound human?"  said  Diane.
"It parses sentences and conversations, so when you ask it a question, it not only analyzes what you asked, but analyzes everything that was said previously. There is  a little problem  in  changing  topics  sometimes."
SCATTERED  GRAVES
  Caleb's  eyes  grew  bright  when  he  talked  about  his program.  Diane  was  seeing  just  how  very  gifted  he was.  She  was  starting  to  feel  heartsick.
  "I  made  algorithms  from  interrogation  techniques and from the way some psychiatrists do therapy-you know,  kind  of  Rogerian-by  making  a  statement  and then asking what the person understands or what they think  it  means.  That  kind  of  thing.  Or  answering  a question  with  a  question.  I  also  put  in  a  small-talk algorithm.  If  certain  concepts  or  phrases  come  up  in the conversation, it searches for references in pop cul­ ture  or  movies."
  "We  noticed  that,"  said  Frank.  "We  were  all  im­ pressed. My name is Frank, and the other guy working on  it  was  Dave."
  Caleb  grinned  for  the  ?rst  time.  "Did  it  recognize that?  Did  it  say  something?"
  "Yes,"  said  Frank.  "It  said  it  was  funny  and  asked us  if  we  knew  why  it  was  funny."
  Caleb  laughed  and  slapped  his  thighs.  Diane  could hear the joy in his voice-like a parent enjoying what his  child  had  learned  to  do.
  If the sheriff or the Wilsons were getting impatient, they didn't show it. The sheriff appeared to be content to  let  Caleb's  story  unfold  the  way  he  wanted  it  to. Diane felt that it was important to understand his pro­ gramming abilities, for that seemed to be the basis for the  crimes.
  Caleb hesitated a moment, as if he knew he needed to get to the topic at hand. His face grew solemn and he  looked  as  if  he  was  about  to  tear  up.
"Malcolm  Chen,  as  I  said,  was  a  friend,"  he  said, "and  I  killed  him."
Chapter 52
Arlen and Mary Wilson sat up straight. She put a hand over  her  mouth.
"No,"  she  whispered.
"You  are  entitled  to  have  a  lawyer,"  Diane  re­ peated.
"You  need  to  do  that,  son,"  said  the  sheriff.
"Listen  to  them,"  said  Arlen.  He  started  to  rise from  his  chair.
Caleb  shook  his  head  violently.
"Look ...  Let's  just  say  that  everything  I  say  is hypothetical and leave it at that. Will that be all right?
Everything  I'm  going  to  tell  you  is  hypothetical.  But I  need  to  tell  you."
"Okay,  son,"  said  the  sheriff.  "Tell  us  your  hypo­ thetical  story."
Arlen  sat  back  down.
"You asked me if Spence Jefferies recruited me. He recruited  Mal-Malcolm-to  work  as  a  hacker.  Mal was  so  easily  impressed  and  thought  he  was  on  the inside. But Jefferies didn't just want hackers, he wanted programmers.  Mal  was  a  good  hacker,  but  he  couldn't see  the  ones  and  zeros,  I  mean  really  see  them,"  he said,  looking  at  each  of  them.
"I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Frank.
"Were   you  the   one   who   hacked  Jefferies'   com­ puter?"  Caleb  asked.
Frank  shook  his  head.  "It  was  another  guy.  I  just offered  suggestions."
  "But  you  understand  about  seeing  the  math?"  he said.
"Yes,"  said  Frank.
"Mal told Jefferies about me. I wasn't interested in the  job  fairs,  or  even  getting  that  kind  of  job.  I  was interested in working with AI. I was still in school and wanted  to  go  to  graduate  school.  But  Mal  told  him about  me  and  told  him  I  was  the  best."
Caleb  frowned,  looking  angry.
"Jefferies came after me. He tried to bribe me. First with  watches.  What  the  hell  kind  of  bribe  is  that?  I don't  need  a  watch  that  costs  ten  thousand  dollars.
Who  does?  Then  he  offered  me  money.  A  lot  of  it.  I didn't  like  what  they  were  doing.  I  knew  it  was  a cybergang. I told Mal it wasn't a game. It was serious business,   and   these   guys   were   criminals.   He   just laughed."
"He  couldn't  bribe  you?"  prompted  Frank.
Caleb  shook  his  head.
"Then  he  started  threatening  my  family.  The  farm.
He was rich and he said he could take Grampa's farm away from him. He owed a lot of money and Jefferies said  he  would  buy  out  his  mortgage  like  they  were doing to other people. So I gave in. I told him I would write  his  programs.  What  he  wanted  was  trojans  car­ rying  viruses  to  gather  information.  Do  you  know about  that?"  he  asked.
"I'm  a  detective  in  the  Metro-Atlanta  Fraud  and Computer  Forensics  Unit,"  said  Frank.  "I've  been working on the rise in identity thefts caused by Jeffer­ ies'  cybergang."
Caleb  nodded. "So  you  know  the damage  those  vi­ ruses  can  do.  Jefferies  wanted  me  to  write  one  that was  harder  to  detect.  One  that  didn't  hog  the  CPU use, so it would be harder to discover. He also wanted me to work in the Rosewood Bank and install one of my viruses to steal information about the patrons and about other banks in the Federal Reserve System. Jef­ feries was fascinated with programmers. He thought we were  a  cross  between  magicians  and  pets."
"What   happened   with   Malcolm   Chen?"   asked Frank.  "Hypothetically."
"Stupid."  Caleb  shook  his  head.  "He  got  stupid.  I couldn't convince him these guys weren't to be messed with. He bought into their hype that he was some kind of  special  expert  that  no  one  could  touch.  He  ?gured out  how  much  money  Jefferies  was  raking  in  and  de­ cided  to  steal  some  of  it.  He  hacked  into  Jefferies' computer and stole some of his offshore account num­ bers  and  transferred  the  money  to  an  account  he  set up."
Caleb  shook  his  head  again.  "He  didn't  tell  me.  If he  had  told  me,  I  could  have  helped  him  cover  it  up.
I discovered that Mayor Jefferies' computer had been hacked when he asked me to work on it. I told Jeffer­ ies  he  had  been  hacked,  and  he  was  furious.  I  didn't know  it  was  Mal  because  Mal  hadn't  told  me,  don't you  see?"
Caleb   stopped   for   a   moment   as   if   to   catch   his breath.  He  looked  at  each  of  them  and  his  gaze  lin­ gered  on  his  grandparents,  who  smiled  at  him.
"Jefferies asked me if I knew where there was some land away from everything where he could hide some­ thing. He didn't tell me what. I told him about McCar­ thy's  land.  You  know,  Grampa,  the  guy  from  Detroit who  can't  decide  what  he  wants  to  do  with  his  little piece  of  property."
His  grandfather  nodded.  "I  told  them  about  him," he  said.
"Jefferies made me take him out there to show him.
Curtis   Crabtree   and   Edgar   Peeks   were   with   him.
When we  got there they opened  the trunk of  the car, and  there  was  Mal  in  the  trunk,  tied  up  and  gagged.
They dragged him out and called that other guy, Gage Shipman, on Jefferies' cell. The phone was on speaker and  Shipman  described  my  brother  Henry  doing  his chores.  Shipman  was  here  at  our  farm.  Over  in  the woods.  He  was  right  here,  watching  Henry."
Diane  had  a  sick  feeling  in  her  stomach.  She  saw Arlen  and  his  wife  reach  for  each  other.
  Tears began to ?ow from Caleb's eyes, spilling onto his cheeks as he started crying. His eyes grew red and puffy.  He  got  the  hiccups,  and  it  was  hard  for  him  to catch his breath. Frank handed him a box of Kleenex from   an   end   table   and   went   to   the   kitchen   and brought  back  a  glass  of  water.  Caleb  wiped  his  eyes and  blew  his  nose.  He  took  a  long  drink,  almost  to the  bottom  of  the  glass.
  "Jefferies  put  a  gun  in  my  hand  and  told  me  if  I didn't  shoot  Malcolm,  they  would  tell  Gage  Shipman to  kill  my  little  brother."
  Caleb  stopped  and  cried  again,  his  shoulders  heav­ ing with the ?ow of tears that dripped onto his hands. His   grandmother   gasped   and   held   a   hand   to   her mouth.  Both  she  and  her  husband  were  tearing  up.
  "How  do  you  make  a  decision  like  that?  How  do you  do  that?  You've  seen  Henry,  how  special  he  is. He's  my  brother.  How  could  they  ask  me  to  make that  kind  of  decision?"
He  sniffed  and  blew  his  nose  again.
"Mal  begged  me.  He  was  crying  and  begging  me not  to  shoot  him.  But  I  did.  They  called  Shipman  off and  they  took  the  gun  from  me.  Jefferies  told  me  I was  a  murderer  now  and  that  he  owned  me.  He  said it wouldn't be too bad because I would make a lot of money.  He  took  Mal's  watch  off  him  and  gave  it  to me and told me that as long as I did what he wanted, Henry  would  be  safe."
"So  you  killed  Jefferies,"  said  Diane.
Caleb was silent for a long while. No one said any­ thing.
"It's funny," Caleb said. "I wrote the virus Jefferies wanted, and it never occurred to him that I would put it on his computer." Caleb looked at Diane. "I owned his   network.   I   knew   everything   he   did,   including where  he  kept  all  his  money,  who  he  had  hired,  and where they worked. I had their programs. I had every­ thing.  I  had  it  all  sent  to  my  computer  here."
Frank  raised  his  eyebrows.  Diane  could  imagine what  he  was  thinking.
	Beverly  Connor   He drank the last of his water. He'd stopped crying, and  his  face  was  like  stone.  His  eyes  were  mere  slits, and  his  mouth  was  set  in  a  grim  frown.
  "Jefferies  so  admired  Alexander  the  Great.  Well,  I knew  about  Alexander  the  Great  too.  And  I  knew what  he  would  do  to  defeat  an  enemy.  He'd  cut  off its  head.  To  kill  a  snake,  you  take  off  the  head.  In this case it was more like a hydra and two more would grow back. I had to kill the others too. I shot Jefferies.
I  was  going  to  kill  Peeks,  but  someone  beat  me  to  it.
I  was  going  to  get  everyone  who  wore  that  stupid pinky  ring.  It  was  the  only  way  I  could  make  sure Henry  would  be  safe.  After  I  shot  Jefferies,  I  put Mal's  watch  on  him.  He  could  have  the  damn  thing back."
"Why  didn't  you  come  to  us,  Caleb?"  said  Arlen.
"We  would  have  helped."
Caleb looked at his grandparents. "You would have done  the  right thing,  and  you  would have  been  killed for  it.  I  had  no  place  to  go  for  help."
"You  should  have  come  straight  to  me,  son,"  said the sheriff. "I would have handled it. You didn't have to  kill  them."
"I couldn't take the chance with Henry's life, Sher­ iff,  I'm  sorry.  You're  a  good  man,  but  there's  one  of you  and  a  whole  gang  of  them.  All  of  them  vicious and cold-blooded. Jefferies was the mayor; Peeks was the chief of police. They'd hired a bunch of their own cops. His friend Bryce controlled the crime lab. Jeffer­ ies had a judge killed and was friends with the gover­ nor.  He  bragged  that  he  was  going  to  get  someone inside  the  GBI.  Where  could  I  go?  Who  was  I  sup­ posed  to  go  to?  Who  could  I  trust?  As  far  as  I  was concerned,  he  had  broken  the  social  contract."  Caleb looked at Diane. "Are you familiar with John Locke?" he  asked.
Diane nodded. "You no longer had to give up your right  to aggressively  protect yourself  and your  family, because  the  government  had  not  ful?lled  its  part  of the bargain. From your point of view, the government SCATTERED  GRAVES could  not  maintain  social  order.  Does  that  sum  up your  position?"  said  Diane.
  Caleb  nodded.  "What  else  could  I  have  done?" David  was  faced  with  the  same  dilemma  exactly, thought  Diane.  He  dropped  out  and  started  his  own investigation.   He   skirted   the   law   a   little,   but   he wouldn't  have killed.  But then,  David was  a lot  older than   Caleb;   he   had   a   world   more   experience,   re­ sources  to  use,  and  maturity.  It  makes  a  difference. Caleb  was  essentially  a  kid.  He  was  a  kid  for  how long-almost  twenty  years?  And  a  young  adult  for one.
  What would any of us have done if our families had been  threatened  in  that  way?  What  would  I  have  done had  I  known  what  Ivan  Santos  had  in  mind  for  Ariel and our friends at the mission? thought Diane. Would I  have  gone  after  him?
Epilogue The  aftermath  to  the  whole  Jefferies  episode  was  un­ settling to everyone in Rosewood. The meth lab explo­ sion  the  previous  year  had  brought  people  together. But  this  series  of  events  and  disclosures  was  divisive. The   fallout   reached   everyone   from   the   governor, whose  PR  people  tried  to  spin  the  damage  by  ex­ plaining that photo ops with Jefferies didn't mean they were  bosom  buddies,  to  individual  families  like  the McConnels, whose son, Ethan, wandered onto the mu­ seum  overlook  and  was  threatened  by  security  guard Gage  Shipman.
  Andie  told  Diane  she  heard  from  Mrs. McConnel that  she  and  her  husband  might  divorce.  The  police­ man  friend  of  Mr. McConnel's  buddy,  Barrel,  turned out  to  be  one  of  Jefferies'  hires.  Mr. McConnel,  who had  voted  for  Jefferies  based  on  his  law-and-order stance, now felt betrayed and humiliated, and his wife was not kind. Like a lot  of people, she couldn't resist the  I-told-you-so's.
  Frank  and  his  department  came  out  well.  Caleb's computer was a gold mine-literally. It had every sin­ gle thing in it Frank needed to untangle Jefferies' em­ pire. Caleb gave Frank a ?ash drive containing a total copy  of  the  information.  He  seemed  to  understand that  Rosewood  might  not  be  eager  to  share  with  At­ lanta.  Caleb  gave  David  all  his  algorithms  to  ponder. David,  a  lover  of  algorithms,  was  bubbly  with  ex­ citement.
  Janice  Warrick  never  discovered  who  the  shadow man  was  on  the  security  tape.
  Rikki  was  the  most  disappointed.  She  thought  she sent  a  chunk  of  Jefferies'  money  to  her  own  account in  the  Caribbean  via  her  cell  phone,  which  she  threw in the river along with the hard disk. She had no way of  knowing  that  Caleb  had  already  emptied  all  but  a thousand   dollars   from   each   account.   He   put   the money  in  a  holding  account  for  the  authorities  to  ?g­ ure out what to do with. The prison guards said Rikki stomped  around  her  cell  for  days  ranting  at  her  bad luck.
  Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith received an undisclosed sum from the city, but she wasn't happy either. Her reputa­ tion  was  tarnished  by  her  proximity  to  the  Jefferies gang,  and  her  husband's  relatives  were  as  relentless with  her  as  Mrs. McConnel  was  with  her  husband. Diane had seen her one last time in passing at the post of?ce  as  Jennifer  was  leaving  town.  Her  in-laws  were laughing,  telling  all  their  friends  to  move  to  Georgia, where  they  pay  you  a  lot  of  money  for  being  stupid. Jennifer   was   probably   heading   for   a   divorce   too, thought  Diane.
  Many  on  the  city  council  wanted  Douglas  Garnett to  run  for  mayor.  But  he  really  liked  being  chief  of detectives, and Edward Van Ross reinstated him. Gar- nett  and  his  wife  sent  Diane  a  bouquet  of  red  roses. Former  mayor  Walter  Sutton  was  as  disappointed as  Rikki  Gillinick.  The  citizens  of  Rosewood  did  not want him as mayor again. They somehow blamed him too for the corruption in city hall, though Diane wasn't sure  why.  Edward  Van  Ross  was  pressed  into  service for a term as mayor. He told everyone it was just until Rosewood got back to normal. Diane wasn't sure that would  ever  happen.  A  group  of  people  actually  ap­ proached  her  to  run  in  the  special  election.  Diane couldn't think of anything she had rather not do than run  for  mayor.  She  politely  declined.
  Curtis  Crabtree  died  on  the  way  to  the  hospital. Shipman  clung  to  life  and  slowly  recovered  in  the prison   hospital.   Caleb   told   Diane   and   Frank   that Crabtree  and  Shipman  tormented  him  over  how  they cut up his friend Malcolm and  fed him into the wood chipper.  The  one  nice  thing  that  Jefferies  had  done for  Caleb was  to  tell  Curtis and  Shipman  to lay  off- but,  Caleb  added,  that  was  just  so  his  work  wouldn't be  affected.
  Diane  had  asked  Colin  Prehoda  to  take  Caleb's case.  He  loved  it.  Diane  had  invited  him  to  lunch  in her  of?ce  and  told  him  about  Caleb  and  what  hap­ pened.
  "I can  get the kid  a medal,"  he said. "My  wife can get  him  a  movie."
  Diane frowned. "For himself, he needs to know that killing  wasn't  the  answer,"  said  Diane.  "He  doesn't need  to  go  the  rest  of  his  life  thinking  there  was  no alternative. Everyone needs to know you can't get off scot-free   for   murder,   no   matter   what   the   circum­ stances."
  "Was  there  an  alternative?"  said  Prehoda.  "Where could he go in his situation? It's a valid question, one I can make the jury understand. Have you talked with Vanessa  lately?  If  Jefferies  wasn't  already  dead,  she said  she  would  have  killed  him.  She  said  she  might just  dig  him  up  and  shoot  him  anyway.  People  can't just  go  around  doing  what  he  did  and  not  expect someone  to  bite  back  really  hard."
"I'm  talking  about-"  began  Diane.
"I  know,  you're  talking  about  the  kid's  soul.  But my  job  is  to  give  him  a  good  defense,  and  I  cannot do otherwise. You'll have to let his grandparents look after  his  soul,"  said  Prehoda.
"I suppose. He's a kid with a conscience, and I want him to be able to be happy sometime in his life," said Diane. "He has a real talent. I don't think he can ever be  happy  without  some  kind  of  accounting."
"Redemption	requires	atonement?"	Prehoda shrugged. "That's not my jurisdiction. Right now, set­ tle  for  his  freedom.  I  can  get  him  out  of  hard  jail time,  even  though  it  looks  like  he  premeditated  the murders.  Jefferies  and  his  gang  didn't  give  him  any options,  and  they  were  relentless  in  their  threats  to his family. It  doesn't help the prosecution  that Jeffer­ ies  had  Karen  McNevin  killed.  A  lot  of  us  liked  her. A  lot  of  us  like  you  and  Vanessa.  The  discovery  that he planned to kill the two of you isn't sitting well with anyone.  The  kid's  not  going  to  jail  over  this."
"Probably  not,"  she  said.
"Besides,  you  have  no  evidence  physically  linking him  to  any  of  the  murders.  You  only  have  his  hypo­ thetical  story  about  what  happened,"  said  Prehoda.
Prehoda  had  been  right.  He  made  a  deal  with  the DA that Caleb would get intensive counseling and ?ve years'  probation.  But  Diane  worried,  as  did  Frank, especially  when  they  found  out  the  college  classmate Caleb  was  on  a  date  with  that  fateful  night  was  Star, Frank's  daughter.  Frank  sort  of  freaked  out  when  he learned  that.
Jefferies  had  a  ?le  that  detailed  how  Curtis  had killed  Judge  McNevin.  Prehoda  was  right  about  that too.  People  were  very  angry  about  a  well-respected judge  being  murdered.  Suddenly  everyone  in  town knew  who  John  Locke,  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau,  and Thomas  Hobbes  were  and  what  the  concept  of  social contract  meant.  It  was  a  strange  time  for  Rosewood.
"Here's  a  dilemma  for  you,"  Diane  told  Prehoda.
"Bryce killed Edgar Peeks. He confessed, and we have the evidence. But he also keeps saying he was framed.
We thought he had just gone nuts until I realized that we  have  the  bloodstains  on  the  forceps-along  with his  bloody  thumbprints  on  them-but  we  don't  have a trail left by the incriminating bloody bullet that was supposed to have rolled under the chest. I think Bryce did take his bullet away from the scene, but Rikki, in her   sneaky   little   fashion,   had   a   spent   bullet   from Bryce's  gun  that  she  swabbed  in  the  blood  and  brain tissue before she dropped it in the evidence bag. That would make not all the evidence against him true, but he  did  do  it."
" 'For 'tis the sport to have the enginer / Hoist with 	Beverly  Connor his  own  petar,' "  was  Prehoda's  only  comment,  and they  enjoyed  the  rest  of  the  meal  talking  about  the upcoming  Neanderthal  exhibit.
  Diane   managed   to   get   her   world   back   to   what passed  for  normal,  even  if  it  would  take  a  long  time for  Rosewood  to  get  back  on  track.  She  didn't  think about  Jefferies  or  any  of  them  when  she  went  down to  check  on  how  the  Pleistocene  Room  was  coming along.
  Kendel Williams, the assistant director, had brought back  an  almost  complete  Neanderthal  skeleton.  The brown bones lay in a glass case like Snow White wait­ ing  to  be  awakened.  Neva  was  working  on  a  facial reconstruction  to  be  shown  at  the  event.
  The museum would be having the white-tie party in the  Pleistocene  Room.  Diane  was  putting  the  Nean­ derthal  diorama  and  bones  temporarily  in  the  huge room  so  the  Friends  of  the  Museum  could  get  a  pre­ view  of  the  new  acquisition  at  the  party.
  Henry, who was now a museum intern after school, worked with Jonas Briggs on the exhibit. Diane knew the  Wilsons  worried  about  their  grandsons  Caleb  and Henry.  The  Wilsons  were  religious  people  and  were having  a  hard  time  of  it.  Diane  was  sure  atonement was  on  their  minds  as  well.
  She  didn't  know  if  justice  had  been  served.  She didn't know anymore if complete justice was possible. She  touched  the glass  case  that  held the  bones  of  the young  female  Neanderthal  and  wondered  what  she would  make  of  the  world  now.
  Professor Emeritus Alexander de  Houten sat in his leather  chair  twirling  the  pinky  ring  on  his  ?nger.  He pulled  it  from  his  ?nger  and  angrily  threw  it  in  the trash. The anger was directed at himself for miscalcu­ lating. It was a mistake to trust sociopaths. He thought people  free  of  emotions  would  carry  out  his  ideas  in perfect  order.  But  he  hadn't  realized  that  sociopaths aren't   free   of   emotions,   just   empathy.   They   have plenty of emotions for themselves. They are sel?sh to SCATTERED  GRAVES their core. He wouldn't make that mistake again. And Rosewood   had   been   such   a   perfect   place   for   his plan-small  town,  easily  manipulated,  with  its  own crime  lab.  Just  perfect.  He  sighed.  He  should  just count himself lucky they didn't connect him with their unfortunate  events.
  He   turned   on   his   computer   and   watched   as   it booted up. He touched his mouse. A screen with text popped  up-and  a  voice.
"Hello, Professor de Houten. Would you like to play a  nice  game  of  chess?"
"What the hell is this?" he said loud enough for his secretary  to  hear  and  knock  on  his  door.
