Dr. Webber watched as he loaded it with film. ‘‘He doesn’t use a digital camera?’’ she asked Diane.
‘‘I use both, but I get greater depth of field and finer detail with the film,’’ said David over his shoulder. ‘‘David’s actually quite an artist,’’ said Diane. David scowled. ‘‘Trying to be accurate isn’t artistry.’’ ‘‘I’m talking about your bird photographs.’’
He cocked his head. ‘‘One might describe them as artistic.’’
Neva put on her cap and stood glancing from David and Jin to Diane, as if waiting for directions. Diane was torn between giving her some reassuring gesture or leaving her to manage whatever insecurities she was dealing with. Neva was one of the gifts Diane had to accept in her curious bargain with the Rosewood Po lice. She wasn’t sure Neva really wanted to be here.
The ropes tied around the branches made a creaking sound as a breeze passing through the trees caused the bodies to swing slowly. The stench of dead flesh washed over them. Diane watched Neva hold her breath.
‘‘You’ll get used to the smell,’’ Diane told her. ‘‘This is actually mild. Breathing through your mouth helps.’’
Neva looked horrified. Probably thinking about the flies and her open mouth.
‘‘You should work with a decaying body that’s in an enclosed space,’’ said Jin. ‘‘I swear, the smell per meates your eyeballs. Your tears even stink,’’ he added, grinning.
‘‘The stench of adipocere formation is the worst,’’ said David, swinging his camera to his side and turning toward Neva. ‘‘Absolutely the worst. One time, the smell just wouldn’t go away. I had to have steroid shots in each nostril.’’
Neva looked miserable.
‘‘You should have to autopsy those bodies,’’ said Dr. Webber. ‘‘One of my first autopsies was on a bloated body found in an abandoned trailer. Like an idiot, I stuck a scalpel in the thing and it exploded all over everyone. I thought I could taste the stuff for a week.’’
That did it for Neva. She turned and headed for a tree, heaving. Diane followed and handed her a bottle of water.
‘‘They’re making fun of me, aren’t they?’’ Neva pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face.
‘‘A little,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You’re the new guy, and they’re just breaking you in. They mean no disrespect. We all had to have a period of adjustment to this kind of work.’’
‘‘Did David really have to get shots in his nose?’’
‘‘No, he made up that little story. And the odor doesn’t make your tears smell either. But bodies do blow up with gasses, and if you puncture them just right—well, you can imagine. But the pathologist al ways wears a face shield when autopsying decayed bodies.’’
Neva took several swigs of water and screwed the cap back on. ‘‘I’m all right.’’
‘‘The trick is to focus on the work.’’
Neva nodded and walked back to David, Jin and Lynn Webber’s good-natured smiles.
‘‘Chuck over here’’—the sheriff pointed to one of his deputies—‘‘threw up so often when he was new, we all started calling him Upchuck.’’
Jin handed her a template and a pad of graph paper. ‘‘You can help me with the sketches,’’ he said.
‘‘We’ll have the bodies ready for you as soon as we can,’’ Diane told Lynn Webber.
Lynn nodded. ‘‘Do you want me to have the diener clean the bones?’’
‘‘Please. Unless we find their driver’s licenses tucked away in their clothes.’’
‘‘I’m not usually that lucky.’’ The sheriff looked up at the two hanging corpses again. ‘‘Something tells me these are going to be hard to identify. Judging from the clothes they’re wearing, I’d guess they might be some poor homeless people who crossed paths with a killer.’’
‘‘You don’t think it’s a suicide pact?’’ asked the other sheriff’s deputy, a hefty man who had been studying the woods, looking almost anywhere but at the bodies. ‘‘Ain’t most hangings suicide?’’
‘‘Yes, most are,’’ said Diane, ‘‘but how did they manage it without anything to stand on?’’
‘‘I guess you’re right. But they could’ve climbed the trees and jumped.’’
Lynn Webber and Diane winced at the thought.
‘‘Or maybe the fourth guy chickened out and, not wanting to leave a good ladder, took it with him.’’
‘‘I’m sure the crime scene investigation and autopsy will sort all that out,’’ said the sheriff.
‘‘I’ll leave you to it.’’ Dr. Webber dusted her hands together, mentally washing them of the crime scene, even though she hadn’t touched anything. ‘‘I need to clear my calendar for these new clients.’’ She turned to Diane. ‘‘If you’d like to attend the autopsy, you may.’’
‘‘Thanks. I’d like to collect the ropes and the insects inside the corpses.’’
‘‘You’re welcome to it. I hate collecting larvae. Though Raymond, my diener, doesn’t seem to mind.’’
Dr. Webber left them and disappeared through the undergrowth up the trail. The sheriff’s gaze followed her until she was out of sight.
She was replaced by the two deputies coming back from the road. It was apparent by their faces they had something to tell the sheriff.
‘‘Edwards and Mayberry—that’s the timber guys— said they seen a place where it looks like a vehicle mighta come through the bushes,’’ said the taller of the two, waving his hand to shoo away flies as he spoke. ‘‘Said there’s
