Dead Secret

examine them again. Ribs were one of the best places to look for marks left by weapons. Gunshots and knives to the torso could hardly miss them.

Diane gave the vertebrae a quick look. Most were in good condition, what she expected for a young person. Two of the lumbar vertebrae showed minute signs of a compression fracture, probably from the fall. He would not have been paralyzed, but his back would have hurt like hell. His right tibia was broken, and his right calcaneus-his heel bone-and talus-ankle bone-had compression fractures. He had no fractures on the left side of his body. She checked his arm bones and hands. His right side navicular, one of the carpal bones of the hand, was crushed. The end of his radius where it articulated with the navicular was also fractured with forward displacement-a Smith’s fracture.

Judging by the bones, it looked like he’d fallen, landed on his feet, favoring his right side, then fell backward, catching himself with his hands, again favoring his right side and fracturing his wrist. When he sat in the cavern in pain, Diane wondered if he pondered the foolishness of caving alone. Or did he sit waiting in the darkness, expecting help to arrive?

Or was he with someone? Did his caving partner have some accident on the way to get help, or was Caver Doe deliberately left there to die, with all traces of his partner wiped away, leaving only a lost button behind? Or had Diane imagined the faint lines in the silt? Maybe, but she hadn’t imagined the button.

Her pain came creeping back, so she decided to pack it in and go home early. It was only six o’clock and she was exhausted. She’d just locked the door of her lab when her cell phone rang. She looked at the display.

“Hey, Frank.” Diane walked down the hallway from her lab leading to the dinosaur overlook.

“Diane, why didn’t you tell me you’d been stabbed too? I had to hear it from my partner.” The annoyance in Frank’s voice was clear, even over the cell phone.

“How did he know?”

“He heard it from the Rosewood police. Don’t change the subject.”

No secrets around the police department, thought Diane. She had forgotten that Frank said his partner was working with a detective here. “I didn’t want you to worry,” she said. “It’s not serious.”

“I heard that you had several stitches.”

“Yes, but I was treated and released.”

“What am I going to do with you?” His voice was softer, more concerned.

Diane smiled into the phone. “What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He paused. “It’ll be late when I get home. I’ll come over.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s over an hour’s drive. Stay in Atlanta.”

“I’ll see how things shake out here.” There was a pause, but she could hear him breathing. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Frank, you know that because they didn’t know where the knife had been, I had to have blood tests-you know, for hepatitis and other stuff. . ”

“When I heard what happened, I assumed you would. A couple of years ago I got bitten by a man I was arresting.” He laughed. “You wouldn’t think white-collar perps would do that kind of thing. He was HIV-positive and I had to go through those tests. Don’t worry. We’ll get through it fine. It’s just a precaution.”

Diane stood on the third-floor overlook to the dinosaur room, trying to think of something to say to Frank that would put his mind at ease and at the same time attempting not to tear up over his kindness. “I was just leaving work, on my way home.” The words sounded choked.

As she spoke, she looked across at the hallway connecting to the opposite overlook. Dr. Annette Lymon had just rounded the corner facing Diane and went into the staff lounge. She usually worked for an oil company in the summers, so Diane was surprised to see her. But it was nearing the start of fall term at Bartram, so perhaps she had just gotten back. In any case, Diane was surprised to see her in the museum.

“Try not to worry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight-it may be late. Call me when you get home.”

“I will.”

Diane slipped her cell back in her pocket, walked around the overlook and headed down the hallway to the lounge. By the time she reached the doorway, she’d rearranged her face into a welcoming smile that she hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt. She didn’t want to alert Lymon that she was under investigation, but she did want to stop the rumor that Mike had abused his former girlfriend.

Annette Lymon was standing in front of the candy vending machines, rattling one of the knobs. She raked her hands through her auburn hair to get it out of her face. She was a lean woman with toned muscles and a tan from spending time outdoors. She appeared to Diane to be in her forties, but Diane found the older she got, the harder it was to estimate age-at least in a living person. Dr. Lymon wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and brown trousers. To Diane she looked vaguely as if she might have been going horseback riding.

“Dr. Lymon,” said Diane. “I’m glad I saw you.”

Annette Lymon looked at her and frowned, then smiled thinly, smoothing out the lines around her lips. “Yes, I needed to speak with you too. But, please, what did you want?”

The woman looked haggard, her face drawn. She smelled of cigarette smoke. Diane hoped she had been doing her smoking outside. Probably so, because if the collection manager had ever caught her smoking in the museum, she’d definitely have told Diane about it.

“Neva, one of my crime scene specialists, came to me with a disturbing story you told her about Mike.” Diane paused and watched Dr. Lymon’s lips turn up in what looked like gratification.

“I was concerned about her welfare.”

“And I wanted to thank you for your concern and put your mind at ease.”

“Oh?”

Diane measured her words carefully. “I have personal knowledge of the circumstances of his last girlfriend. Mike was not abusing her. I know for certain who was. Mike tried to help her; so did I.”

Annette Lymon’s lips turned down again. She gave the knob on the machine another jerk and a candy bar dropped into the tray.

“I thought it was important for you to know that,” finished Diane.

Lymon grabbed up her candy. “Did you? Well, I’m glad. I hated to think that of him.”

“You needn’t. Mike is a fine young man.”

“I had to terminate his assistantship.”

“Is that so?” said Diane. It was an effort making sure anger didn’t show on her face. Even so, her own words sounded harsh to her ears. Dr. Lymon didn’t seem to notice, for she went on talking without missing a beat.

“He just doesn’t work as hard as he should, and there are others who really need the assistantship who will do the work.”

“I’m surprised to hear that. I’ve heard nothing but good things about Mike from the geology collection manager.”

“She’s female, isn’t she? Females tend to like Mike.” Dr. Lymon eyed Diane up and down.

Please, you can be more subtle than that, thought Diane as she smiled grimly at her. “Everyone likes Mike. Males and females. I’ve gotten reports of his work not only from the collection manager, but from the exhibit planners and other staff as well. I pretty much know who in the museum works and who doesn’t. His work on the Journey to the Center of the Earth exhibit has been exemplary.”

“But that’s just play, isn’t it? It’s not real geology, and that’s his problem.”

“It’s instructional work and research, the kind of work we do here. However, we don’t need to argue the merits of research versus fieldwork. You wanted to see me about something?”

Dr. Lymon glared at Diane a moment before she spoke. “Yes. I’ve been appointed head of the Geology Department.”

“Congratulations.” Diane’s smile was getting harder to maintain.

“I’m going to be making some changes. This. . ” She made a broad gesture with her arm. “This relationship the department has with the museum isn’t working out for us as well as it has for you, I’m afraid, so I’m cutting it out of next year’s budget.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The extra lab space is nice, of course, but splitting my time between two labs just makes more work. And the office space is terribly small. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but it’s the best thing for the Geology