Watching the downward drift of a liberated fiber, I felt a sudden jolt of neural electricity. I looked at Galiano. He gave no indication he’d noticed.
“That’s in Quebec?”
“It’s a camp, really, several hundred miles north of Montreal.”
I’d once flown to Chibougamau for an exhumation. The region was so heavily forested the view from the plane had reminded me of broccoli.
“The program teaches young people to assume personal responsibility for their drug abuse. The encounters can be harsh, but my husband and I decided the ‘tough love’ approach was best.” She gave a wan version of the diplomat’s smile. “The remote location ensures that participants complete the entire course of therapy.”
Galiano’s questioning continued for several minutes. I focused on the red nails, verifying. Finally, “Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Specter?”
“What do you know of these bones that were found?”
Galiano showed no surprise at her knowledge of the Paraiso skeleton. Undoubtedly, her husband’s connections kept them well informed.
“I was about to mention that, but there’s little to report until Dr. Brennan finishes her analysis.”
“Can you tell me anything?” Her gaze shifted to me.
I hesitated, not wanting to comment on the basis of photos and a cursory tank-side inspection.
My mother’s heart battled with my scientist’s brain. What if Katy were missing instead of Chantale? What if I were the one twisting threads on a tapestry chair?
“I doubt the skeleton is your daughter.”
“Why is that?” The voice was calm, but the fingers were moving toward Mach 1.
“I suspect the individual is non-Caucasian.”
She stared at me, thought working behind the electric-green eyes.
“Guatemalan?”
“Probably. But until I’ve completed my examination, that’s little more than an impression.”
“When will that be?”
I looked to Galiano.
“We’ve run into a jurisdictional hitch,” he said.
“Which is?”
Galiano told her about Diaz.
“Why has the judge done this?”
“That’s unclear.”
“I will explain the situation to my husband.”
She turned back to me.
“You are a kind woman, Dr. Brennan. I can tell by your face.
She smiled, the ambassador’s wife once again.
“You’re sure I can’t get either of you a drink? Lemonade, perhaps?”
Galiano declined.
“May I trouble you for a little water?”
“Of course.”
When she’d gone I bolted for the desk, tore a strip of adhesive tape from the dispenser, raced back to Mrs. Specter’s chair, and pressed the sticky side to the upholstery. Galiano watched without comment.
Mrs. Specter rejoined us carrying a crystal glass filled with ice water, a lemon slice stuck onto the rim. As I drank, she spoke to Galiano.
“I’m sorry I have nothing else for you, Detective. I am trying. Truly, I am.”
In the foyer, she surprised me with a request.
“Have you a card, Dr. Brennan?”
I dug one out.
“Thank you.” She waved off a servant who was bearing down.
“Can you be reached locally?”
Surprised, I scribbled the number of my rented cellular.
“Please, please, Detective. Find my baby.”
The heavy oak door clicked shut at our backs.
