Death Du Jour by Kathy Reichs Read Free Book Online

charred and fragmented bones of the legs and feet.
    I felt relief, but some confusion. This was a single, fully grown victim. Or was it? Infant bones are tiny and extremely fragile. They could easily be hidden below. I prayed I’d find none when I sifted through the ash and sediment.
    I made notes, took Polaroids, then began to sweep away soil and ash using a soft-bristle paintbrush. Slowly, I exposed more and more bone, carefully inspecting the displaced debris, collecting it for later screening.
    LaManche returned as I was clearing the last of the muck that lay in direct contact with the bones. He watched silently as I took four stakes, a ball of string, and three retractable measuring tapes from my kit.
    I hammered a stake into the ground just above the cranial cluster, and hooked the ends of two tapes onto a nail I’d driven into the top. I ran one tape ten feet south and pounded in a second stake.
    LaManche held that tape at the second stake while Iwent back to the first and ran the other tape perpendicular, ten feet toward the east. Using the third tape, I measured off a hypotenuse of fourteen feet one and three-quarter inches from LaManche’s stake to the northeast corner. Where the second and third tapes met, I hammered in a third stake. Thanks to Pythagoras, I now had a perfect right triangle with two ten-foot sides.
    I unhooked the second tape from the first stake, hooked it to the northeast stake, and ran it ten feet south. LaManche brought his tape ten feet east. Where these tapes met I hammered in the fourth stake.
    I ran a string around the four stakes, enclosing the remains in a ten-by-ten-foot square with ninety-degree corners. I would triangulate from the stakes when taking measurements. If needed, I could divide the square into quadrants, or break it into grid units for more precise observations.
    Two evidence recovery techs arrived as I was placing a north arrow near the cranial cluster. They wore dark blue arctic suits, SECTION D’IDENTITÉ JUDICIAIRE stamped on their backs. I envied them. The damp cold in the basement was like a knife, cutting right through my clothes and into my flesh.
    I’d worked with Claude Martineau before. The other tech was new to me. We introduced ourselves as they set up the screen and portable light.
    “It’s going to take some time to process this,” I said, indicating the staked-out square. “I want to locate any teeth that might have survived, and stabilize them if necessary. I may also have to treat the pubes and rib ends if I find any. Who’s going to shoot pics?”
    “Halloran is coming,” said Sincennes, the second tech.
    “O.K. Chief Grenier says there’s nobody else down here, but it wouldn’t hurt to walk off the basement.”
    “There were supposed to be kids living in this house,” said Martineau, his face grim. He had two of his own.
    “I’d suggest a grid search.”
    I looked to LaManche. He nodded agreement.
    “You’ve got it,” said Martineau. He and his partner flicked on the lights on their hard hats, then moved to the far end of the basement. They would walk back and forth in parallel lines, first proceeding north to south, then crisscrossing east to west. When they’d finished, every inch of floor would have been searched twice.
    I took several more Polaroids, then began to clear the square. Using a trowel, a dental pick, and a plastic dustpan, I loosened and dislodged the filth that encased the skeleton, leaving each bone in place. Every pan of dirt went into the screen. There I separated silt, cinders, fabric, nails, wood, and plaster from bone fragments. The latter I placed on surgical cotton in sealed plastic containers, noting their provenance in my notes. At some point, Halloran arrived and began shooting.
    Now and then I glanced at LaManche. He watched silently, his face its usual solemn mask. In the time I’d known the chief, I’d rarely seen him express emotion. LaManche has witnessed so much over the years, perhaps sentiment