“I’m glad I won’t be going to her funeral as well as Bobby’s.”
“You know,” said Rankin, “maybe they should have brought outside people in to identify the bodies. We’re going to know so many of these students. I know the parents of one of the kids in the hospital. They’re trying to save his arm.”
“I know,” said Diane. “One of my museum staff is in the hospital in a coma.” Diane put on her lab coat and latex gloves. “But who could do a better and more careful job than we can? If it’s hard on us, just think of the parents and relatives who are our friends and colleagues.”
“You’re right about that,” said Rankin. “I guess it’s what we do.”
“Is there anything new here?” asked Diane.
“They found another charred body in the basement rubble,” said Lynn. “That brings the total to thirty-three. Garnett assigned priority to all the basement bodies. He wants to know who was found in proximity to the lab. Brewster identified two more bodies of students from their dental charts.”
Another body. Diane hoped that was the last one. She looked at the bones in front of her. Jin had laid them out on labeled trays.
“I thought this might be the best way,” said Jin. “Each tray represents the grid they were found in. When you have examined them, I’ll pack them up and take them to the lab to extract DNA.”
Diane nodded and picked up a charred triquetral—one of the carpal bones in the wrist—and began her measurements.
“I understand you had a row at the hospital,” said Rankin after several minutes.
“Who are you talking to?” asked Pilgrim.
“Diane,” Rankin said. “Tell us about it.”
“Not much to tell. I was visiting Darcy Kincaid, the museum staff member I told you about.” Diane described for them the events that transpired in the hospital.
“What?” said Lynn. “You’re kidding. She just attacked you right there in the solarium?”
“In the hallway. She hit me one good lick, but didn’t do any harm. The policeman guarding the son arrested her.”
“Why did she attack you?” asked Jin, who seemed to find it funny, judging from the grin on his face.
“They’re saying their son is the innocent victim and for some unknown reason, I’m trying to frame him or something. Anyway, their story is that I’m the culprit and they are going to have me fired and sue the police department.”
“I think they are going to have to adopt another attitude,” said Brewster Pilgrim. “People aren’t in the mood right now for that kind of nonsense.”
“Amen,” said Archie.
Diane wanted to get off the topic of her misadventure, so she tried to make light of it. “It was a minor event. I’m sure when their lawyers see the evidence they’ll recommend abject contrition.”
After seeing Blake Stanton’s parents, she felt oddly sorry for him; then she looked at the blackened bones in front of her and her sympathy evaporated. If he had anything at all to do with this . . . , she thought.
She went back to work examining and measuring. There were several wrist bones found together, suggesting that they were from the same wrist. All were from the right side. She put the bones together like a three-dimensional puzzle and found that they fit as though they belonged, and they had complementary wear patterns in the articulated surfaces. She noted a healed fracture on the hook part of the hamate.
“The size of the bones falls within the male range,” she said to Jin as she recorded the information on the form. “That doesn’t exclude larger boned females, of course. I think he—or she—might have been a baseball, racquetball or tennis player.”
“Why is that?” asked Jin.
She showed him the healed fracture. “This kind of fracture is not uncommon among athletes in sports that involve the swinging of a club.”
“Really?” said Jin. “You can take a handful of wrist bones and say this is a male baseball player? That’s so cool.”
“I didn’t say that. I said it could be. It’s suggestive. And I don’t know what kind of club was swung. Could’ve been an ax and he cut firewood for a living.”
“Anyway, it’s really neat what you do with bones.”
Archie shuffled through one of the boxes. He brought her a large envelope. He was limping slightly; she recalled a policeman getting shot last year and she wondered if it was Archie.
“I remember this,” he said, “because Marjie, the policewoman who brought this batch in, said he’s a neighbor, and the son of a Rosewood policeman. He’s