“Sir,” said Buzz, “she told us she runs here three times a week, never saw your victim before. Ever.”

Sandy said, “Sir, if we did something wrong by letting her go, we’re sorry. She was totally emotional, we made the judgment that babysitting her would distract our attention away from what needed to be done.”

“Which was?”

“Securing the scene, sir.”

Milo ushered me several yards away. “Everyone’s a damn therapist. So what does a real shrink have to say about this one being connected to the new bones?”

I said, “Two bodies in the park, same approximate time?”

He nodded. “So what do we have, Mommy and Baby?”

“If so, Baby died first. Days or weeks or months ago.”

“Maybe Mommy got blamed for that by Daddy?”

“That would be a good place to start.”

“On the other hand, if Daddy’s so devoted, why would he dump his kid’s bones?”

I thought about that. “We could be talking about someone with serious psychiatric issues-paranoia, an active delusional system that got kicked up by the baby’s death. That could also explain the bones being preserved. He elevated them to an object of worship-some sort of icon. It also fits with leaving them in the park on the night he killed the person he deems responsible. This is what she did, this is what I did to her.”

“Some nutter de-fleshing his own kid’s skeleton? What’s next, he walks into traffic with an AK?”

“Delusional doesn’t have to mean a raving lunatic,” I said. “There’s nothing disordered about the woman’s murder, so you could be dealing with someone who keeps it under wraps pretty well.”

“Till he doesn’t.” He phoned Reed, found out the coroner’s investigator had arrived, done a quick visual, authorized Liz to take possession of the bones, and left. The crime scene techs were doing their thing but had turned up nothing, so far.

Returning to Sandy and Buzz, he said, “We’re heading back to the other scene. You stay here.”

“How is that one, sir?” said Sandy.

“What do you mean?”

“The other scene. We heard bones over the radio. Whose?”

“Someone dead.”

Sandy flinched.

Buzz said, “They have something to do with each other? Have to be, no?”

Milo rocked on his heels. He spoke between clenched jaws. “Here’s what has to be: Guard this scene as if it was your best set of barbells. Don’t let anyone but the C.I. and the C.S. crew within fifty yards of the body-make that a hundred. Stand right there. Don’t wander off. Don’t answer any questions. Of any sort. From anyone. At any time. If you’re considering thinking, don’t do that, either.”

Buzz stood straighter. “Sir. We’re all about proper procedure.”

Milo saved his laughter until we were well away. Not a pleasant sound, quick and harsh as a gunshot.

Liz Wilkinson stood just outside the perimeter of the bone-dump. A team of three crime scene techs had nailed up an inner cordon on stakes, was photographing, bagging and tagging. Moe Reed stood near enough to observe, far enough to avoid getting in their way.

Liz said, “Got some new data for you. The front of the face exhibits no breakage or damage of any sort. No erupted teeth on either jaw, the buds are barely visible, I’m estimating age at around two months. And Alex, you were right about the bones being coated. When I got up close I could smell beeswax, it’s got a distinct aroma. My father collects antique tea caddies and he uses it to shine them up. So maybe we’re dealing with another type of collector. Some sort of fetishist.”

Milo repeated the enraged-father theory.

She said, “A father preserving his own child’s bones?” She looked at me.

I said, “You know the drill: Anything’s possible.”

“God, I hope that’s not how it turns out. These past few days are already testing my detachment mettle.”

“If there were faint tool marks could they be spotted under the wax?”

“I think so but I’ll find out when I get them magnified. I’ll x-ray every single one, maybe we’ll get lucky and internal damage due to disease will show up, or a subtle injury. The nice thing-God, that sounds horrible-is that fresh infant skeletal remains have the best chance of yielding genetic material.”

Milo said, “Fresh, as opposed to the first ones.”

“DNA’s been extracted from eons-old tissue so I’m guardedly optimistic on those, as well.”

“That like nervously calm?”

She grinned. “Kind of. Anyway, Mommy and Baby should be easy enough to verify.”

“Good,” said Milo. “I like answers.”

CHAPTER 13

Milo and I drove back to his office, where he searched missing persons for a match to the dead woman. By three p.m., twenty-eight possibilities had surfaced. By six, each lead had fizzled. An initial foray into one of the national data banks proved fruitless but there were other lists. So many women unaccounted for.

My phone rang. Service operator letting me know that Holly Ruche had canceled her appointment.

“Any reason given?”

“No, Doctor, but she did sound kind of tense. You’d think that would be a bad time to cancel, huh?”

I agreed and amended my date book.

Milo was staring at a phone-photo he’d taken of the dead woman. He said, “Even if her main squeeze doesn’t miss her, someone will. Time to go back to the media. Starting with that reporter.” He checked the blue-bound murder book he’d begun on the old bones, found what he was looking for. “Kelly LeMasters, you’re my new girlfriend. And that’s saying a lot.”

He punched numbers, barked, “Sturgis, call me.” Moments later, his office phone rang.

I said, “That was quick.”

“The old charm kicking in.” He switched to speaker.

Deputy Chief Maria Thomas said, “How’s it going on the two you picked up today?”

“Just started, Maria.”

“Run the details by me.” Not sounding the least bit curious.

He gave her basics.

She said, “How are you planning to I.D. your adult vic?”

“The usual way.”

“Meaning?”

“Our pals in the press. Just left a message for the Times reporter.”

“What message?”

“To call me back.”

“When she does,” said Thomas, “undo it.”

“What?”

“Tell her you were just touching base on the old one, don’t give her anything on the new ones.”

“Why would I touch base without new info?”

“Figure something out.”

“What’s going on, Maria?”

“You know the answer.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“Think.”

“Edict from on high?”

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