“I was kneeling down, digging at something I found,” said Jin.
“More evidence?”
Jin shook his head. “An arrowhead.”
“An arrowhead?”
“Yeah, milky quartz, looked like, from what Jonas called the Old Quartz Culture, about eight thousand years ago. There’s a zillion of those kinds of points in Georgia. Don’t you visit your own museum?”
“Yes, I know what the Old Quartz Culture is. That’s the last thing you remember-digging out the arrowhead?”
“Yes.”
“Someone hit you,” she said.
“Hit me?” Jin stood up suddenly and checked his pockets. “The cigarette butts are gone. Someone stole my cigarette butts. It had to be the killer. He was right here with me and I let him get away.”
“We don’t know it was the killer…,” began Diane.
“Who else would give a shit about cigarette butts? Jeez, I don’t believe this.” Jin retrieved his flashlight and began searching the ground.
“You all right up here?”
Diane looked up at the top of the ridge. It was Izzy Wallace. He was followed by Archie, the policeman from the morgue tent, and another patrolman Diane recognized as one of the two who helped her when Blake Stanton was locked in her car. The three of them came down the slope.
“We saw you running like a bat out of hell up the embankment,” said Izzy. “What happened?”
“It looks like someone hit Jin over the head and stole some evidence,” said Diane.
“Here?” said Archie. “While we were all down at the warehouse? Somebody was up here?”
“Looks like it,” said Diane.
Izzy saw Jin searching the ground. “What do we need to be looking for?” he asked.
“An evidence bag with cigarette butts,” said Jin. “Maybe I did fall and it just fell out of my pocket.”
“From the bump on the back of your head, I think you were hit,” said Diane. “You were unconscious for a while. You need to see a doctor.”
“I’m fine.”
“You need to do what she says, son,” said Archie. “We’ll search up here. If there’s anything to be found, we’ll find it.”
“Let them look, Jin.” She saw something on the ground and picked it up. It was the quartz arrowhead. She handed it to Jin.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” he said.
“That’s all right, Jin. None of us expected anyone to be up here, with all the police around.”
“There’s all kinds of roads and paths around here,” said the patrolman.
“He could have come and gone up any one of them,” he said.
“He was sure quiet,” said Jin.
“This snow,” said Archie. “It cushions your footsteps.”
“Come on, Jin,” Diane said. “I need to get back with the bones and you need to see a doctor.”
“Really, Boss…”
“That’s an order, Jin,” said Diane.
She, Jin, and Izzy worked their way down off the ridge by the light of their flashlights.
“I’ll be back for you, Archie,” called Izzy.
“No problem, Izzy,” he called back.
“You and Archie riding together?” said Diane.
“Yeah, temporarily. I’m not really back officially, and Archie usually works in the evidence locker. We’re just a couple of old guys waiting for retirement, trying to make a difference.”
Izzy wasn’t that old; neither was Archie for that matter-perhaps in their early fifties at most-but Diane imagined Izzy felt old right now. The death of a child puts the weight of the world on you.
Diane put Jin in the front, and she rode in the backseat.
“How are you and your wife doing, Izzy?” asked Diane.
“Not good. Her sister’s come to stay with us for a while. I need to find out who did all this. I’m supposed to protect people, and I can’t even protect my own son from the people I should be arresting.”
Diane could relate to that. She couldn’t protect her daughter from the man she’d been trying to bring to trial for the atrocities he committed. To say it makes you feel like a failure doesn’t even begin to describe the impact it has on you.
“Bobby Coleman’s mom tried to kill herself,” continued Izzy. “They’re saying it was an accidental overdose, but we all know different. You don’t plan on outliving your kids. It’s just too awful.”
Izzy dropped Diane and Jin off at the museum and she drove Jin to the emergency room. She stayed in the waiting room until he came out.
“Nothing to it,” said Jin. “The doctor put three stitches in my head and told me to call if I have pain, nausea, or dizziness-usual stuff.”
“Didn’t he say to go home and rest?” said Diane.
“Well, yeah, but they always say that. They’re just covering themselves. I’m fine.”
Diane drove him home and watched as he went into his apartment building. She headed back to the museum, but just as she was about to turn the corner, she saw his car backing out of his parking space. He was going back to the warehouse. She shook her head, reached for her phone, and dialed David.
“How’s Jin?” said David.
“He’s fine. Got three stitches. I just called to tell you that I think he’s headed back to you guys. Watch him,” said Diane.
“We will. Neva will get on his case. That usually works.”
“Finding anything interesting?” asked Diane.
“The basement of the apartment house had a kitchen, so we’ve got lots of metal. We’re looking for anything we can trace back to a person, but mostly it’s just stuff that’s part of the house. We’ve found some bone. One looks like a piece of one of the long bones. But it’s slim. Has kind of an oval cross section.”
“Sounds like it might be a radius.”
“We’ll bring all the bones to you. We’re thinking we’ll leave the other evidence here with a guard. Garnett’s bringing in an arson investigator whom he trusts to have a look.”
“Keep me informed.” Diane hung up the phone and drove the rest of the way to the museum. She parked by the outside elevator dedicated to the crime lab.
The night guard was already in the small first-floor reception room that contained the elevator. She spoke to him and rode up to the crime lab, keyed in her code, and, carrying the box of bones, walked through to her lab.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket just as she set the box down on the table. The display said LAURA HILLARD.
“Hi, Laura,” said Diane.
“I just called with some information. Juliet’s grandmother’s name is Ruby Torkel. She’s still alive and lives in Glendale-Marsh, Florida. She’s lived there all her life.”
“Just a minute, let me get a pen.”
Diane fished a pen from her purse, uncapped it, and looked around for a piece of paper. She found a pad in a drawer and wrote down the information.
“I don’t suppose you have a number.”
“Sure do.” Laura gave Diane the phone number. “Juliet says she’s rather cranky.”
“I deal with cranky every day. How is Juliet?”
“She’s good, considering the crime spree we’ve been having. I’m getting a lot of calls from people just needing to debrief and, unfortunately, from people needing help with their grief. Poor Juliet’s trying not to freak out over the murder in her apartment complex.”
“Her apartment complex? Where does she live?” asked Diane.
“Applewood Apartments. You know, where the Cipriano girl was murdered.”
