‘‘I heard the yelling,’’ she began.
Sheriff Canfield 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 finger in her direction. ‘‘Get out. This is none of your business.’’
Bryce’s callousness angered Canfield just that much more. ‘‘It is most certainly her business,’’ said Canfield. ‘‘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 fingernails 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 finished with them,’’ she said. ‘‘I just got them an hour ago.’’
‘‘I don’t care,’’ said Sheriff Canfield. ‘‘You shouldn’t have had them in the first place.’’
Jennifer looked at Bryce, then the sheriff, and finally 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 Canfield.
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 Canfield’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?’’
‘‘
‘‘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 find 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 find 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 Canfield. ‘‘She’s the one who is supposed to have them. Quit pointing fingers 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.’’
