grave. Two bodies. Snead thinks theyâre from that case!â
I felt faint. I closed my eyes. âCanât beâ¦â
âWell, letâs find out! Iâve got meetings all morning. Go see what Terryâs got. You can brief me this afternoon.â
I was struggling for words. A few seconds passed.
âClaire?â
âIâm here. Iâll go.â My mind was in turmoil.
âGreat. See you later.â He disconnected.
I slid behind the wheel of my car. I was feeling light-headed. I sat there for a minute, taking deep breaths. Finally, I started the engine.
I took exaggerated care on the drive home, the way people do when theyâve had too much to drink.
Â
7
âClaire Talbot! Always a pleasure!â
Associate Chief Medical Examiner Terry Snead didnât climb to his feet when I entered his small office in the basement of the UF Pathology Department. Instead, he rolled his chair back from his desk and relaxed into a half recline so he could look me up and down. I knew Terry had a crush on me, and Iâll admit to exploiting his feelings occasionally over the years when Iâd needed to squeeze an extra bit of investigative work out of him.
Terry didnât really know how to flirt creatively. Twenty years of adult life might have pruned away most of the awkward mannerisms of the congenital nerd, but behavioral artifacts remained. It was still possible to detect the brilliant but guilelessly uncool college kid of an earlier time. For me, one of the main indicators was the gape of undisguised admiration that I was being greeted with at that very instant.
âYou know,â Terry said, âyou should come around here more often.â
âYeah, I know.â I finished the tired joke for him. âThe place is deadâneeds livening up.â
âHey, I heard a new one! A mortician and a blonde walk into a barââ
âTerry!â After the events of the past week, I was in no mood for this.
âOkay, okay! Itâs great to see you.â
The office had a single guest chair. I sat. I was wearing a dress, so I didnât cross my legs, because I wanted Terryâs full attention.
âIâm guessing youâre here about that find down at Bronson.â
âSam asked me to come. Is this for real? Two bodies from that old case?â
âAs I told your boss, everythingâs just preliminary. Weâll need a lot more to be certain, but one of them looks pretty promising. Since they were both found in a single grave.â He gave a little open palm gesture, as if to say, ergo.
âWho found them?â
âThe way I heard it, a work party was clearing brush and a survey crew was following behind, shooting in a line of stakes to guide the excavators. Youâve probably seen them yourself on road projectsâthose flagged stakes that are marked for âcutâ or âfill.ââ
I hadnât, but I nodded knowingly so he wouldnât launch into a mini-lecture on civil engineering. My tactic almost failed, because he stared off into space and muttered, âI wonder why they were doing it the old way.â
Here we go, I thought. I decided to play along for a second. âWhat do you mean?â
âShooting line and using a level to mark the stakes. Nowadays, they can use GPS for everything, even the z -value.â I held my tongue while he thought it through. Finally, he gave me a eureka look and said, âThat must be it!â
I took the plunge. âWhat?â
âPoor communication with the satellites. Maybe a solar flare. I should check that.â He made a move toward his computer.
âTerry! Could you do that later?â
âOkay, sorry. So, at one point, the survey guys were skirting along the top edge of an embankment. One of the chainmen pounded in a stake, and the ground on the face of the embankment subsided a bit. The guy didnât pay much attention, but when
Marion Chesney, M.C. Beaton