with’ was overstating it, but I wasn’t going to quibble over the white lie.

‘He’s British?’ Hicks exclaimed, picking up on my accent. I could feel my face burning as the young woman’s cool stare settled on me again. ‘You’re letting tourists here now, Gardner?’

I’d known my presence might raise a few hackles, just as a stranger’s would in a UK inquiry, but his attitude irked me all the same. Reminding myself I was Tom’s guest, I bit back my response. Gardner himself looked far from happy as Tom cut in.

‘Dr Hunter’s here on my invitation. He’s one of the top forensic anthropologists in the UK.’

Hicks gave an incredulous snort. ‘You mean we don’t have enough of our own?’

‘I mean I value his expertise,’ Tom said easily. ‘Now, if we’re done here, I’d like to make a start.’

Hicks shrugged with exaggerated politeness. ‘Go ahead. Believe me, you’re welcome to this one.’

He stalked off back towards the parked cars. Leaving the two TBI agents outside the cabin, Tom and I headed for a trestle table where boxes of disposable overalls, gloves, boots and masks had been set. I waited until we were out of earshot.

‘Look, Tom, perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. I’ll wait in the car.’

He smiled. ‘Don’t mind Hicks. He works out of the morgue at UT Medical Center, so we cross paths occasionally. He hates having to defer to us in situations like this. Partly professional jealousy, but mainly because the man’s an asshole.’

I knew he was trying to put me at ease, but I still felt uncomfortable. I was used to being at crime scenes, but I was acutely aware that I didn’t belong at this one.

‘I don’t know…’ I began.

‘It isn’t a problem, David. You’ll be doing me a favour. Really.’

I let it go, but my doubts remained. I knew I should be grateful to Tom, that few British forensic experts ever get the opportunity to work a crime scene in the States. But for some reason I felt more nervous than ever. I couldn’t even blame Hicks’s hostility; I’d put up with a lot worse in my time. No, this was about me. At some point in the last few months I seemed to have lost my confidence along with everything else.

Come on, get a grip. You can’t let Tom down.

Gardner came over to the trestle table as we were ripping open the plastic bags of overalls.

‘You might want to strip down to your shorts under those. Pretty hot in there.’

Tom gave a snort. ‘I haven’t undressed in public since I was at school. I don’t aim to start now.’

Gardner swatted at an insect buzzing round his face. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

I didn’t share Tom’s modesty, but I followed his example all the same. I felt enough out of place as it was, without stripping down to my boxers in front of everyone. Besides, it was only spring, and the sun was already starting to go down. How hot could it be in the cabin?

Gardner rummaged amongst the boxes until he found a jar of menthol rub. He smeared a thick dab under his nose, then offered it to Tom.

‘You’ll need this.’

Tom declined. ‘No thanks. My sense of smell isn’t what it used to be.’

Gardner silently held out the jar to me. Normally I didn’t use it either. Like Tom I was no stranger to the odour of decomposition, and after spending the past week at the facility I’d become well and truly acclimatized to it. But I still accepted the jar, wiping the scented Vaseline on my top lip. My eyes instantly watered from the pungent vapour. I took a deep breath, trying to still my jangling nerves. What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re acting like this is your first time.

The sun was warm on my back as I waited for Tom to get ready. Low and dazzling, it brushed the tops of the trees as it made its slow descent into evening. It would come up again in the morning no matter what happened here, I reminded myself.

Tom finished zipping up his overalls and gave a cheery smile. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’

Pulling on our latex gloves, we walked up the overgrown path to the cabin.

CHAPTER 3

THE CABIN DOOR was closed. Gardner paused outside. He’d left his jacket with the boxes of overalls, and had put on a pair of plastic overshoes and gloves. Now he slipped on a white surgical mask. I saw him take a deep breath before he opened the door and we went inside.

I’ve seen human bodies in most states of death. I know how bad the different stages of putrefaction smell, can even differentiate between them. I’ve encountered bodies that have been burned to the bone, that have been reduced to soap-like slime after weeks underwater. None are pleasant, but it’s an inevitable part of my work, and one I thought I was inured to.

But I’d never experienced anything like this. The stench was almost tangible. The nauseatingly sweet, bad- cheese stench of decomposing flesh seemed to have been distilled and concentrated, cutting through the menthol under my nose as though it wasn’t there. The cabin was alive with flies, swirling excitedly around us, but they were almost incidental compared to the heat.

The inside of the cabin was like a sauna.

Tom grimaced. ‘Good God…’

‘Told you to wear shorts,’ Gardner said.

The room was small and sparsely furnished. Several of the forensic team had broken off what they were doing to glance over as we’d gone in. Shuttered blinds had been pulled up to allow daylight in through the windows on either side of the door. The floor was black-painted boards covered with threadbare rugs. A pair of dusty antlers hung over a fireplace on one wall, while a stained sink, cooker and fridge stood against another. The rest of the furniture— TV, sofa and armchairs—had been roughly pushed to the sides, leaving the centre of the room clear, except for a small dining table.

The body was lying on it.

It was naked, spread-eagled on its back, arms and legs draped over the table edges. Swollen by gases, the torso resembled an overstuffed kitbag that had burst open. Maggots dripped from it to the floor, so many of them that they looked like boiling milk. An electric radiator stood next to the table, all three of its bars shimmering yellow. As I watched, a maggot dropped on to one of them and disappeared in a fat sizzle.

Completing the tableau was a hard-backed chair that had been positioned by the victim’s head. It looked innocuous enough, until you thought to wonder why it was there.

Someone had wanted a good view of what they were doing.

None of us had gone any further than the doorway. Even Tom seemed taken aback.

‘We left it like we found it,’ Gardner said. ‘Thought you’d want to record the temperature yourself.’

He went up a notch in my estimation. Temperature was an important factor in determining time since death, but not many investigating officers I’d come across would have thought of that. Still, on this occasion I almost wished he’d been less thorough. The combination of heat and stench was overpowering.

Tom nodded absently, his gaze already fixed on the body. ‘Care to do the honours, David?’

I set his case down on a clear area of floorboards and opened it up. Tom still had much of the same battered equipment he’d had since I’d known him, everything well worn and neatly ordered in its place. But while he might be a traditionalist at heart, he also recognized the benefits of new technology. He’d kept his old mercury thermometer, an elegant piece of engineering with its handblown glass and tooled steel, but alongside it was a new digital model. Taking it out, I switched it on and watched the numbers on its display quickly start to climb.

‘How much longer will your people be?’ Tom asked Gardner, glancing at the white-clad figures working in the room.

‘A while yet. Too hot for them to stay long in here. I’ve had an agent pass out already.’

Tom was bending over the body, careful to avoid the dried blood on the floor. He adjusted his glasses to see better. ‘Have we got a temperature yet, David?’

I checked the digital readout. I’d already started to sweat. ‘Forty-three point five degrees.’

‘So now can we turn off the goddamn fire?’ one of the forensic team asked. He was a big man, with a barrel- like stomach that strained the front of his overalls. What was visible of his face under the surgical mask was red

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