“Males have broader shoulders than females. Their clavicles are longer. You guys are also more muscular than us girls. Your collarbones are going to be more robust. The girl in these photographs is relatively small and delicate.”
Diane measured the bone and compared it with the math-altered measurements she made from the photograph. She shook her head. “It’s not a match. Not even close. This bone is much bigger than hers would be.”
Frank leaned forward. “She would be larger than the photograph.”
Diane stared at him for a long moment. “Frank, I took that into consideration.”
“Well, I’ve never seen you work. If I knew how to do this, I would have done it myself.”
The way he grinned, she didn’t know if he was kidding her or not. She shook her head and gave him a lopsided smile, then turned back to the analysis.
“The distal end is broken. It happened antemortem or perimortem and would have been very painful.”
Frank frowned. “What would make a break like that?”
She shook her head. “A fall, like from a horse. Hit with something big like a club. Hit by a truck-any number of things.”
Diane laid a piece of typing paper on her desk and searched in her drawer until she found a long pair of tweezers. Holding the bone under the desk lamp, she pulled a gossamer wad from the small cavity in the shaft.
“What?” asked Frank, leaning forward.
“Spiderweb.”
She put the web in a small wax envelope similar to ones that stamp collectors use. She gently tapped the bone. Tiny dark specks fell from the hollow of the bone to the paper. She examined the detritus with a hand lens. Frank stood and leaned on the desk. The hair on the tops of their heads touched. Diane raised her head and looked directly into his eyes, which were so close to hers she thought she could probably feel the flutter of his eyelashes.
“Bug parts,” she said.
“Bug parts? Is this important?”
“It is, indeed. It tells us that during warm weather when these creatures are up and about, the bone was bare and open for them to take up residence.”
“Died during the warm months, then?”
“Perhaps.”
“How long ago? Can you tell?”
Diane rubbed the tips of her fingers along the shaft of the bone. She was relieved that it was not from the adopted daughter of Frank’s friends. “I’d say this bone hasn’t seen flesh for several years. How long have the girl and her boyfriend been missing?”
“A couple of months.”
“Does anyone know where the boyfriend is?”
Frank shrugged.
“Do you see the roughening of the bone here and here?” Diane touched two areas on the bone.
“Yes.”
“Those are where the neck and shoulder muscles were attached.”
“That would be here-” Frank traced his fingers down Diane’s neck to her collarbone.
“Approximately. Yes.”
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
“The size and texture of the attachments make me suspect that this was a rather strong lad.”
“Lad?”
She pointed to the proximal end of the bone. “The epiphysis has only begun to unite, which suggests an age of between seventeen and thirty.”
Frank stood up straight. “So that means that at the place they suspect their teenage daughter disappeared, they found the partial remains of possibly a teenage boy who had been hit with enough force to break his collarbone.”
“Yes.”
Frank frowned. “I don’t like that.”
“No. I shouldn’t think you would.”
“What are the odds that it’s just a coincidence that they find the bones of this boy in a place where they were looking for a missing girl?” he said.
“Slim to none.”
Diane put the insect parts in another envelope, inspected the original plastic bag for more debris and handed everything back to Frank. “It looks like you have a serious problem on your hands.”
Diane was craving sleep as she walked up the steps of the converted old Greek revival house containing her apartment. The dark shadow of herself cast by the dim porch light reflected in the glass pane of the outside door. She looked at her watch-2:10 A.M. She counted to herself. Four hours’ sleep, max. She looked up at the sky. Dark clouds backlit by a full moon.
“Don’t rain,” she commanded the sky. “I don’t want to deal with rain tomorrow.”
Her fingers, made tender from assembling the exhibits, hurt as she turned her door key in the lock. As she climbed the stairs leading to the second floor, her back muscles burned and her legs cramped from stooping and lifting all day. She fumbled with her keys and opened her door to a dark apartment. She reminded herself to start leaving a light on.
She was bone tired, and, to top off the long day, she had offended Leonard, one of the security guards, by asking him not to be rude to the workers. From the set of his mouth she could tell he hadn’t liked being told how to act. She’d figure out something to say to him tomorrow. He’d get over it in time. After Milo, she must seem like an intruder to some of the older staff.
Diane would have liked to soak in a tub of warm water for an hour, maybe two, but settled for a quick shower and crawled into bed and dropped off into the unconsciousness of sleep.
Even in the dark, the foliage blazed a brilliant green. The color was blinding and Diane didn’t know how to find her way through it. Fear burned white-hot in her stomach. Off in the distance, a burst of gunfire startled her into full running panic. Everywhere she turned, vines clutched her legs, pulled at her body. Enormous heavy leaves slapped her face. She fought, trying to push them out of the way. Each slap of her hand against the leaves left a bloodred print. The gunfire was deafening-she must be getting closer. Vines grabbed her shoulders, turning into hands, pulling her away from the sound. “No, no!” she screamed, trying to pull the hands off her. The sound of gunfire came so fast it sounded like ringing.
Diane awoke suddenly, breathless, sweating. The phone on her nightstand was ringing. The illuminated radio display read 3:40. She snatched the receiver off the phone.
“Diane. It’s Gregory. I’m sorry for calling so late.”
Diane sat upright, hearing the familiar British accent, and held her breath. “Gregory. No, it’s all right.”
“I wanted you to know. They turned us down. They’re not going to arrest him.”
Diane was silent.
“We’re not giving up. I’m going to the United Nations next week-and to the International Court of Justice. We won’t stop. We’ll never stop.”
“Thank you, Gregory.” Diane suddenly hadn’t the energy to hold the phone. She lay back down on the pillow, propping the receiver to her ear.
“I wanted you to hear it from me, just in case a wire service might have picked it up. It’s not big news. For now we want to keep it that way.”
“I understand.”
“Are you all right? You sound out of breath.”
“I’m better.”
“Nightmares?”
“Occasionally.”
“How’s your weight?”
“Weight? It’s fine.”
“Are you eating?”
“Of course.”
“You know how it is in our line of work. Even now, Marguerite sometimes has to remind me to eat.”
“I’m better, Gregory, really.”
“Are you?”
“As well as is possible. I miss Ariel every day. I curse myself every day for not leaving in time, and I still break down in tears when I look at her picture.” Tears were now streaming down Diane’s face. She was angry at Gregory for making her talk about the most painful thing that had ever happened to her, but in a strange way she was relieved to talk about it. No one here knew about her daughter. As painful as it was, Ariel lived on only when Diane talked about her with someone who knew her.
“I know,” said Gregory. “I curse myself for not rushing throug
h the adoption papers so you could take her out of the country, or for not arranging to smuggle her out for you. I thought she was safe at the mission. I didn’t know Santos’ men would cross the border, that he would retaliate. . ” His voice trailed off.
“What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“And it wasn’t yours. We were getting too close, hurting him, showing the world he’s a liar and a cold-blooded mass murderer. I thought President Valdividia was stronger. It was a miscalculation I made, and I have to live with that every day.”
“Why is it so hard to have evil men arrested, even with a mountain of evidence against them?” It was a question she’d asked before, and didn’t expect an answer.
“We’ll keep trying. It’s thanks to you and your team that we have that mountain of evidence. You paid a terrible price to get it.”
“I am better, Gregory, really. A year away from everything was good for me. I’m completely off the benzodiazepine. I love the museum. It’s just what I’d hoped it would be.” I wish I’d gotten out with Ariel before. . The thought was too painful to finish. She would have loved it here.
“Met any new friends?”
“A great many. Renewed some old acquaintances too. Frank Duncan came by today. You remember, I told you about Frank.” She told Gregory about the bone and the missing girl.
“You were able to handle that all right, then? Examining the bone, I mean.”
“It wasn’t easy, and I don’t intend to do it again. I did it for Frank because he knew the missing girl and her parents. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“But you were able to do it-that was good. I’ll call back at a more decent time and we’ll talk again.”
“I’d like that. Thanks for the call. Let me know if anything happens.”
Diane lay for a moment, listening to the dial tone after Gregory hung up. She swung her legs to the floor, replaced the phone on the nightstand and stumbled into the bathroom. She splashed her face with cool water and stared into the mirror, running her hands over the angles and planes of her face. She did look thin. The result of six months of eating nothing but cottage cheese and yogurt because it hurt less coming back up.
She went back to bed and lay her head on the pillows. She clenched her teeth until her jaw burned, and didn’t release the grip even when she escaped into sleep.
Chapter 3
As Diane opened the large carved wooden doors to the museum at 8:10 the next morning, she felt late and tired. The guard on duty at the information center greeted her with a broad smile on her friendly round face. Diane returned the smile as she passed, trying to remember her name. She’d just hired her last week.
Andie was arranging reproductions of large prehistoric plants at the entrance to the exhibition hall. Inside the hall, the folks from CyberUniverse were setting up computer monitors next to each display.
The Pleistocene room looked grand. Murals covering three walls depicted stunning panoramic scenes of the Paleolithic period, perfectly complementing the exhibits. The tall paintings on hardwood panels, discovered during renovation behind a layer of plaster and a layer of wainscoting, appeared to have been part of the original design of the building, a late 1800s museum turned private clinic, and now back to a museum. In the dinosaur room in the opposite wing, more wonderful old murals painted at a time when scholars still thought dinosaurs dragged their tails behind them now formed the backdrop of the dinosaur exhibits.
The current remodeling had removed false ceilings to reveal high domed ceilings with Romanesque molding in the exhibition halls, forming enormous rooms for the display of enormous beasts.
The head guy from CyberUniverse motioned her to the computer monitor at the sloth exhibit. “You’re going to love this.”
Diane watched a narrated animation explain how animals can become fossilized after they die. “I do like that. All of you did a great job. The animation is terrific and the explanation is clear and easy to understand.”
A young man wearing faded jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt leaned against the podium and gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re Mike Seger, aren’t you? From the geology department at Bartrum University?”
He had the kind of short hairstyle that looked as if he got out of bed and simply ran his hands through the top, then went outside to let the sun bleach the ends-a messy, rugged effect that probably took quite a bit of styling to achieve. He eyed Diane for a second before responding. There was something about him that seemed intense-his light brown eyes, studious expression, or maybe it was simply the crease between his eyebrows, like a permanent frown.
“Yes, I am. You asked Dr. Lymon to work with your education department on the computer lessons. I’m a grad student always looking for a job, so she assigned me.”
“You did a good job. I’ll write a letter of appreciation to Dr. Lymon, if you like.”
Diane thought he hesitated a moment before he said, “Sure. That would be good.”
She turned to the computer guys. “Are all the displays ready?”
“We want to do one more check, but it looks like they’re ready.”
Bang! A loud shot behind her caused her to start. Her breath caught, she whirled around, eyes wide.
“Sorry,” said Andie. “The mop fell over. Loud in this hall, isn’t it?”
Diane put a hand over her breast, her heart still racing. Ashamed of herself for being so skittish, she headed for the mammoth exhibit to see how it looked. She’d wait to talk with Donald about the vegetation until after the opening.
“Phone, Dr. Fallon.” Andie, still holding the mop handle in one hand, gave her the portable.
“Hi.” It was Frank. “I’m bringing you breakfast. Egg McMuffin. I know you didn’t stop to eat this morning.”
“I’m not really hungry. I. .” She had bent over to rearrange the weeds by the bison’s foot and something in the wall painting caught her eye-a tiny figure hidden in the tall grass near the Paleo-Indian hunters. It looked like a unicorn. She moved closer.
“Diane, you still there?”
“Sorry, I was examining this unicorn.”
“Unicorn?” He paused. “You mean there really was such a thing? They were here, in Georgia? You have a skeleton?”
Diane took the phone away for a second, stared at it, then put it back to her ear. “No. There’s one in the painting.”
“Oh.” Frank sounded disappointed, and Diane almost laughed. “I’m on my way over,” he said. “See you in a minute.”
He had hung up before she could protest.
“Andie, have you seen this?”
Andie had her brown frizzy curls tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, making her look sixteen instead of twenty-six. She came over and looked where Diane pointed. “I haven’t seen that one,” she said.
“There are more?”
“At least two in here. One grazing around the feet of the mammoth herd and another on the edge of the pond behind some weeds, sticking its horn in the water. It’s kind of like Where’s Waldo?”
“How odd.”
“I’ll say. But nice.”
Within five minutes, Frank came through the door, followed by a herd of museum staff. He took Diane by the arm, led her to a bench by the door and produced a still warm egg-and-biscuit sandwich.
A little waft of steam rose from the sandwich when she folded back the wrapper and it had the aroma of breakfast. She took a bite.
“I guess I am hungry.”
“I thought so.” Frank waited until she had taken several bites before he spoke again. “It was a false alarm about the bone.”
Diane cocked an eyebrow at him.
“It was part of my friends’ efforts to persuade the police to investigate the boyfriend. The bone they gave me came from a deer and not from the boyfriend’s back-yard.” He flashed a gleaming set of white teeth through a sheepish expression.
“You have the bone?”
“Sure.” He took it ou
t of his briefcase.
She finished her biscuit and dropped the wrapper into a waste container by the door. “Come with me,” she said, leading him through double doors into the mammal exhibit.
“Clavicles are like struts. They keep our shoulders straight and our arms from falling onto our chest.” She stopped at an exhibit labeled ODOCOILEUS VIRGINIANUS. “OK, here’s a deer. Find the bone.”
“What?”
“Find the bone on the deer identical to the one you hold in your hand.”
He started with the long metapodial bones of the feet, moved to the ribs, walked around the deer and stopped by the shoulder. He shrugged. “This skeleton doesn’t have one.”
“Neither do any of its kin. Deer don’t have clavicles. They don’t need them. It doesn’t matter if their forelegs fall onto their chest. We primates have them. So do bats and birds. In birds it’s called a furcula-wishbone to you laymen.”
He looked at her as if not quite understanding, and she dragged him along into another room filled with primate skeletons and stopped at Homo sapiens sapiens.
“OK, wise guy, can you find the bone now?”
Frank looked at the skeleton’s collarbone. Bingo. It was identical. He shook his head. “George told me it was from a deer. I’ve known him for years.”
“Maybe he thought it was. You need to find out what pile of bones he took it from. Now, I have a reception to get ready for tonight and I haven’t looked at all the interactive media yet.”
“About tonight.”
Here it comes. Another broken date before we even get started again. Diane stood waiting.
“My son-you met Kevin-he wants to be a forensic anthropologist.”
“And you want me to recommend a good child psychologist?”
“Funny, Diane. No. I would like to bring him. I know it’s one of these invitation-only affairs, but. .”
“Fine. I’d like to see him again.”
“There’s more.”
“You have more children?”
“You’re real cute this morning, aren’t you? No. His mother and her husband would like to come too.”
“Family affair?”
“Something like that.”
One Grave Too Many dffi-1 Page 2
