Reliquary by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child Read Free Book Online

Frock?”
    Frock rolled forward and, with some difficulty, fit his face to the visor. He remained motionless for what seemed several minutes, leaning over the skeletonized cadaver. At last he rolled his wheelchair back, saying nothing.
    “Dr. Green?” the ME said, turning to her. Margo stepped up to the microscope and peered in, aware of being the focus of attention.
    At first, she could make nothing of the image. Then she realized that the stereozoom was focused on what appeared to be a cervical vertebra. There were several shallow, regular scores along one edge. Some foreign brownish matter clung to the bone, along with bits of cartilage, strings of muscle tissue, and a greasy bulb of adipocere.
    Slowly she straightened up, feeling the old familiar fear return, unwilling to consider what those scores along the bone reminded her of.
    The ME raised his eyebrows. “Your opinion, Dr. Green?”
    Margo drew in her breath. “If I were to guess, I’d say they look like teeth marks.”
    She and Frock exchanged glances.
    She knew now--they both knew--exactly why Frock had been called to this meeting.
    Brambell waited while the others took turns staring through the microscope. Then, wordlessly, he wheeled the stereozoom over to Pamela Wisher’s skeleton, focusing this time on the pelvis. Again, Frock took up a position at the microscope, followed by Margo. No denying it this time; Margo noticed that some of the marks had punctured the bone and penetrated into the marrow spaces.
    Frock blinked in the cold white light. “Lieutenant D’Agosta told me these skeletons came out of the West Side Lateral Drain.”
    “That’s right,” said D’Agosta.
    “Flushed out by the recent storm.”
    “That’s the theory.”
    “Perhaps feral dogs worried our couple while their dead bodies lay in the drain system.”
    “That’s one possibility,” said Brambell. “I would estimate the pressure required to make the deepest of those pressure marks at around 1200 psi. A bit high for a dog, don’t you think?”
    “Not for, say, a Rhodesian Ridgeback,” said Frock.
    Brambell inclined his head. “Or the Hound of the Baskervilles, Professor?”
    Frock frowned at the sarcasm. “I’m not convinced those marks are as powerful as you believe.”
    “Alligator,” said D’Agosta.
    All heads turned toward him.
    “Alligator,” he repeated, almost defensively. “You know. They get flushed down the toilets as babies, then grow big in the sewers.” He looked around. “I read it somewhere.”
    Brambell issued a chuckle as dry as dust. “Alligators, like all reptiles, have cone-shaped teeth. These marks were made by small triangular mammalian teeth, probably canines.”
    “Canine, but not dog?” Frock said. “Let’s not forget the principle of Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”
    Brambell tilted his head in Frock’s direction. “I know that Occam’s razor is held in great esteem in your profession, Dr. Frock. In mine, we find the Holmesian philosophy more apt: ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ ”
    “So what answer remains, Dr. Brambell?” Frock snapped.
    “As of this moment, I have no explanation.”
    Frock settled back in the wheelchair. “This second skeleton is interesting. Perhaps even worth the trip in from Mendham. But you forget that I am now retired.”
    Margo watched him, frowning. Normally, the professor would have been more entranced by a puzzle such as this. She wondered if--perhaps in the same way as herself--Frock was reminded of the events of eighteen months before. If so, perhaps he was resisting. It was not the kind of reminiscence likely to ensure tranquil retirement.
    Olivia Merriam spoke up. “Dr. Frock,” she said, “we were hoping that you would be willing to assist in the analysis of the skeleton. Because of the unusual circumstances, the Museum has agreed to put its laboratory at the disposal of the