Dead Hunt

could look at the Brachiosaurus, then moved on to the osteology lab and Diane’s office, where she had the pictures from Colonel Kade. There was something she wanted to look at in the pictures that nudged at the back of her mind.

Chapter 43
    Diane sat down behind her desk in the osteology office. Kingsley pulled the upholstered burgundy chair nearer to her desk and sat down.
    ‘‘This is nice,’’ he said, settling into the deep comfort. ‘‘It is. It’s a nice reading chair.’’
Diane called up her e-mail and printed out Alex
    Kade’s message to her containing the photographs and the summary of information he had told her over the phone.
    ‘‘I think you will find this interesting,’’ said Diane. She handed him the material.
Kingsley was smiling when he sat down, wondering about the conversation about exhibit preparations, no doubt. His smile quickly turned to a frown.
‘‘This explains almost everything,’’ he said. ‘‘This man Heinrich, or Greene, or whatever you want to call him, was her first kill. He has to be. I’d bet my reputation on it.’’
‘‘That’s what I thought,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Diane’’—he gently struck the pages with his hand—‘‘this is just the kind of thing I had hoped for. How did you find this?’’
She told him about Col. Alex Kade and his crusade.
‘‘He deserves all the credit,’’ she said. ‘‘He cropped the photographs out of consideration for my sensibilities. He said he would send the complete pictures if we need them.’’
The marshals wanted only to find Clymene to put her back in prison. Kingsley wanted more than that. He wanted to understand what had created her. For that he needed detailed information about what she had experienced.
‘‘I’ll take his e-mail address from here.’’ He gestured at the page. ‘‘And ask him to send the pictures to my office. You know, I feel sorry for her. She was what, fourteen, fifteen? What kid should have to go through this?’’
‘‘I feel sorry for that little girl in the pictures. The adult has a choice,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Does she? Does she really have a choice when— if we are right—her father sold her to a maniac who enslaved her in the sex trade?’’ He sighed. ‘‘Who really has choices?’’
Diane didn’t argue with him, but she didn’t agree with him, at least not completely.
‘‘I wish we had her real name,’’ he said.
‘‘I’ve been thinking about that. Did you ever see Clymene’s cell?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘How was it decorated?’’ she asked.
‘‘Simply. She had pictures of flowers in vases. I think she tore them out of magazines.’’
‘‘Were they irises, roses, and lilies?’’ asked Diane.
Kingsley looked surprised. ‘‘Yes . . . they were. Only those flowers.’’
‘‘Those are the three sisters’ names,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Clymene’s name is Iris. Her sisters are Rose and Lily.’’
‘‘It makes sense—triplets, flowers. Easier than names that rhyme,’’ he said. But how the devil did you come up with that?’’
‘‘At lunch I saw the waitress putting wildflowers on the tables and it tickled something in the back of my mind . . . something I had seen. Look at the pictures Colonel Kade sent. Every picture has an iris in a clear vase in the background. When I spoke with Rev. Rivers, we were in the chapel. He said most of the flower arrangements were by Clymene. The arrangements were of three flowers—irises, roses, and lilies.’’
‘‘So all we need now is a last name,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘See, you did this very fast. I knew I was right in bribing you.’’
Diane gave him half a smile. The phone on her desk rang and she picked it up.
‘‘Fallon,’’ she said, still smiling at Kingsley.
‘‘Dr. Fallon, I’m Trenton Bernard, an estate attorney in Seattle. I’m calling in regard to your e-mail. It says you are the director of the crime lab in Rosewood, Georgia?’’
‘‘Yes, Mr. Bernard. Do you mind if I put you on speakerphone? I have Ross Kingsley, an FBI profiler, with me and we are both working on the case.’’
‘‘I suppose that’s all right. I have to say, this is very strange,’’ he said.
Kingsley’s attention perked up when he heard his name. He leaned forward as Diane switched the phone over to speaker.
‘‘Hello, Mr. Bernard,’’ said for speaking with us.’’
‘‘Do you know the woman asked Diane.
‘‘I know someone who looks very much like