Dead Hunt

regarding Clymene. She would be spending the night in her museum office, so she decided to stay a while longer in the lab and work on the box of bones sent to her from Ohio.
She lay the bones out and saw several things immediately. The bones were young—the victim was between twelve and fifteen years of age. Both radii had healed spiral fractures. She saw healed ribs and finger bones. This was an abused child. She was female and she was malnourished. These were the saddest set of bones Diane had seen in a while. She recalled that the sheriff who asked her to look at them said the bones had been on the shelf in the medical examiner’s office for fifteen years. A hunter had found them in the woods those many years ago.
The skull was in a separate box. The face was completely shattered. Diane stood looking at the shattered bone and decided she was going to find out who the little girl was even if it took another fifteen years. She began by piecing the facial bones together.
Diane worked until the early hours of the morning. She had pieces of the face setting up in a sandbox while the glue dried. It was almost finished. When the glue was dried and she had the skull whole again, she would use the laser scanner and have the computer reconstruct the face. She would also age it to see what the girl would have looked like as an adult. Who knew, she might have looked like her mother or an aunt and somebody might recognize them in her. Diane took a sample of bone to be packaged and sent to a lab in California. Maybe they could tell her where the little girl grew up.
She washed her hands, took off her lab coat, and turned off the lights. Her museum office was on the other side of the building and down on the first floor. She started to call a security guard to walk her to her office but decided that she wasn’t going to live like that. This was her museum and she wasn’t going to be afraid of walking through it. Only the exhibit rooms would be dark. The custodial staff would be working. She would be fine.
She locked her door and waved at the crime lab security guard. She walked across the dinosaur overlook and past the staff lounge, where the custodians were cleaning. She waved to them on her way to the elevators.
Diane made it to her office without incident. It angered her that she even had to worry about it. She changed into pajamas, made up the couch, and snuggled in for the night.
She awakened at the sound of Andie coming into the adjoining office. She looked at the clock—eight o’clock. Four hours’ sleep. That ought to be enough for anybody. She got up and collected clean clothes and stepped into the bathroom for a shower, anxious to get to the various computers to see if anyone in the cyberworld had seen Clymene O’Riley.

Chapter 39
    ‘‘Andie,’’ Diane said as she walked through to her office, ‘‘I’m going to be in the crime lab most of the day. Call me there if you need me.’’
    ‘‘I heard the shower running. Did you spend the night here? Are you homeless?’’
Andie looked very retro today. She wore what Diane’s mother called a sack dress—very sixties, straight, no waist. It was pink with black trim and large black buttons down the front. She had new black patent leather Mary Janes on her feet. Diane smiled.
‘‘No, I’m not homeless. Actually, I guess I am, now that you mention it. I’m staying with Frank and he had to remain in Atlanta, so I slept in my office. I like your dress.’’
Andie stood up and took the skirt of the dress in her hands as she turned. ‘‘I love it. I got it in the cutest little vintage dress shop that just opened downtown.’’
‘‘What happened to Agent Jacobs yesterday? I didn’t see him when he left,’’ said Diane.
‘‘He looked at the books and said he’ll be back in touch.’’ Andie shrugged. ‘‘I figure since he didn’t handcuff anybody on his way out, that was good.’’
‘‘Hopeful, anyway,’’ said Diane.
Diane was trying to remember if she had told him about the soil sample from the sphinx. She hadn’t. She took her cell out of her blue twill jacket. Agent Jacobs had given her his cell number and she had programmed it into her phone. Never know when you’ll need the FBI on speed dial. Diane supposed that was a good sign too, giving her his private number. She punched the speed dial number and he answered almost immediately.
‘‘Dr. Fallon,’’ he said. ‘‘What can I do for you?’’
‘‘The soil sample from the