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. 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 fin
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 first 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 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, figuratively and literally cry
ing over her coffee. Diane felt very tired. She decided
to go home. Maybe Frank would be there.
