The four photographs were before and after shots of a young woman in side and front views. The photos looked startlingly like Neva’s drawings.
‘‘The interesting thing is,’’ said Neva, ‘‘that he was scheduled to do her cousin. Here’s his before shots.’’
Neva pushed two more photos across the table. Again, they looked to Diane like a match to Neva’s drawings.
‘‘You say he was scheduled for surgery?’’
Neva nodded. ‘‘He didn’t show up for pre-op. The doctor’s office called his home and didn’t get an an swer. They called the cousin’s home and the house keeper said the family was gone on a trip. Isn’t that interesting?’’
‘‘Yes, it is. Frankly, I’m amazed this worked. Good job, Neva. What are their names?’’
‘‘Ashlyn and Justin Hooten. Both live in Buffalo, New York. I have their addresses and phone numbers.’’
‘‘Well done,’’ Diane said again. ‘‘I’m going to call the sheriff.’’
Diane couldn’t reach the sheriff or Garnett immedi ately. She left voice mail on their phones. She won dered if they went back to the hospital after she left them.
It was past lunchtime and she was hungry. She left the crime lab and went down to the restaurant, or dered herself a club sandwich and took it to her mu seum office.
Andie was eating at her desk with one of the do cents, a young woman about Andie’s age.
‘‘Everything going well here?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘All quiet. No strange E-mail, wandering snakes or anything else out of the ordinary.’’
‘‘Good. I’m going to be eating in my office. I’d like some quiet time, so unless the museum catches fire . . .’’
‘‘Gotcha.’’
Diane went into the meeting room adjoining her office. She got a bottle of cold water from a small refrigerator she had there and sat down at her small conference table with her sandwich.
She felt like the note containing the information about the Hooten cousins was burning a hole in her pocket. She tried to ignore it. She was about half finished with the sandwich when she decided to make the call herself, without waiting to talk with Braden or Garnett. The identity of the victims was the key to everything. She walked into her office and picked up the phone.
She called Justin Hooten’s number first and let it ring twenty-five rings. No answer. She dialed Ashlyn Hooten’s number. Someone picked up on the third ring and announced that she had reached the Hooten residence.
‘‘I’m Diane Fallon from the Rosewood Police De partment in Georgia.’’
She decided that saying she was head of the crime lab might be too frightening. As much as the photo graphs and the drawings seemed to match, they may not be the right people.
‘‘I’m looking for a possible witness. Is Ashlyn Hooten in?’’
‘‘No. She on vacation with her cousin family.’’
‘‘Are her parents there?’’
Diane heard another voice in the background. ‘‘Who is it, Nancy?’’
‘‘She say she the police. From Georgia.’’
‘‘I’ll take it. Hello. I’m Ashlyn’s father, an attorney here in Buffalo. What is it you want?’’
‘‘When was the last time you saw Ashlyn?’’
‘‘What’s this about? Look, I want you to stop ha rassing my daughter. You are not to call here again.’’ He hung up.
‘‘Well,’’ Diane said aloud. ‘‘That went nowhere.’’
She tried both the sheriff and Garnett again. They still weren’t answering their cells. She started back to the conference room to finish her sandwich when the door flew open and Lynn Webber stormed in. Andie flew in behind her.
‘‘Dr. Fallon . . .’’ Andie was obviously helpless to slow down Lynn.
‘‘It’s all right, Andie.’’ Andie backed out and closed the door.
‘‘Just what are you and Garnett trying to do to Raymond?’’
Diane sat down and motioned to the chair. ‘‘I don’t know. What are we trying to do?’’
‘‘Don’t act smart. I thought we were friends. I thought you liked Raymond.’’
‘‘I thought so too, and I do like Raymond. If you tell me what you are talking about, maybe I can re spond more coherently.’’
Lynn Webber dropped herself into the chair in front of Diane’s desk.
‘‘Garnett came to see me, insinuating that Ray mond was a thief, asking me all kinds of questions about him knowing Chris Edwards and some other people I never heard of. He suggested that I might have had something to do with stolen diamonds. I don’t even like diamonds. He said you and he cooked this up.’’
Diane was having a hard time making sense of Lynn’s diatribe in terms of what Garnett might have actually said.
‘‘Did he really use the work
