Dead Guilty

building confidence in yourself.’’
Neva smiled. ‘‘Some of the guys at the station say you’re arrogant.’’
‘‘Perhaps they’re right, or perhaps I’m just pre tending.’’
‘‘I don’t see how you do it.’’
‘‘Do what?’’
‘‘I mean, you have two really big jobs—two major careers going at once.’’
‘‘I couldn’t if that was the American Museum of Natural History out there,’’ Diane said as she gestured in the direction west of her office, toward the museum, ‘‘and if this was a New York City crime lab. But RiverTrail is a small museum—large building, but small as holdings go. And Rosewood doesn’t have a high crime rate. As it is, I’m pretty much at the limit of what I can do.’’
‘‘Still . . .’’ Neva was interrupted by a knock on Diane’s office door.
Chief Garnett entered the room with a man who looked like a college professor. He wore a brown tweed sports coat and slacks, had a respectable head of brown hair and a short well-trimmed beard to match. He was slightly built and moved with an air of confidence.
‘‘This is Ross Kingsley,’’ Chief Garnett said. ‘‘He’s going to be doing some profiling for us.’’
‘‘I’d like to interview you, if you don’t mind.’’ He held out a hand to Diane, and she shook it.
‘‘Certainly. Before we start, Chief, Neva has finished her drawings of the Cobber’s Wood victims.’’
She handed a set to him and watched as he and Kingsley studied them.
‘‘This looks good,’’ Garnett said, casting an approv ing glance at Neva.
‘‘They are,’’ agreed Diane. ‘‘The sheriff ought to be able to find someone who knew them.’’
Neva stood and eased herself out the door, clearly not picking this day to confront her fear of Garnett.
‘‘We found what we think was the Crown Vic. Sto len, of course. That Asian guy—Jin—I’ve asked him to process it too.’’
‘‘I figured it was stolen,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Maybe Jin will be able to find something.’’
‘‘I’ll leave you two here,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘I’ll be in the lab if you need me.’’
Diane motioned for Kingsley to sit down. She felt oddly uneasy about being interviewed by him. So much for the myth of her fearlessness.

Chapter 30
    Ross Kingsley let his gaze wander around her office before bringing his attention back to Diane. Diane’s eyes never left Kingsley.
    ‘‘Your office is very Spartan,’’ he said.
    Interesting choice of words, she thought. Sparse, bare, cold, perhaps, but not Spartan —the places to sit were far too comfortable.
    ‘‘It’s relatively new,’’ she said.
    ‘‘Garnett told me you suffered a great tragedy doing human rights investigations in South America.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘And you don’t want to revisit it. I can understand. What do you do for fun?’’
‘‘Why are you profiling me?’’
Kingsley shifted in his chair. ‘‘Because this man who may be the killer has focused his attention on you. I want to know why, so I can understand him.’’
‘‘I enjoy caving.’’
‘‘Exploring caves?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘You like dark places, then.’’
‘‘I always carry at least three sources of light.’’
He laughed. ‘‘But caving is dangerous.’’
‘‘It can be.’’
‘‘What is it that you like about it?’’
‘‘I enjoy cave mapping. I like exploring a new world. I also like dangling on the end of a rope.’’
He laughed again. ‘‘Why do you think your office is so devoid of personal items?’’
‘‘Because I haven’t put any in yet. I spend more time in the labs here or in my other office.’’
‘‘Other office? At the station house?’’
‘‘How much about me did Garnett reveal to you?’’
‘‘Not a lot. That you are a forensic anthropologist who used to do human rights investigations. We lis tened to the tapes of you and the caller. Most of my time so far has been spent looking at the reports of the crime scenes.’’
‘‘I have an office in the museum. That’s where you’ll find personal items, including a rather nice photograph of me dangling on the end of a rope.’’
‘‘In the museum? This one connected to the crime lab?’’
‘‘Yes. I’m the director.’’
That caught him by surprise. Diane wondered why they hadn’t told him. Perhaps Garnett just hadn’t con sidered it pertinent. She could almost see Kingsley revising his profile of her.
‘‘I see. Well, that’s certainly interesting. You