Dead Past

David were searching a wide path from the driveway to the burned-out house. She and Neva began a search of the front yard from the street to the house.
    Most of the debris was pieces of wood and shingles from the house. Other than blood, probably from victims who were outside the house when it exploded, neither she nor Neva initially found any human remains.
    Diane was setting a green flag beside what looked like the leg of a chair when she heard her name. She stood up to see medical examiner Lynn Webber waving to her from the road.
    Reaching for something hanging on a limb, Neva was a few feet away near a small maple tree.
    “Neva, I need to go. . . .”
    Neva retrieved the object—it looked like a piece of cloth to Diane—bagged it, marked the limb with a tag, and put a yellow flag beside the tree. Yellow flags were the code for “look up.”
    “Sure. We can handle this,” Neva said.
    “Neva, I know this is a lot, but when you finish here, I need for one of you to process my car. It’s parked in front of my house.”
    “Your car? What happened?”
    That’s right, thought Diane, they don’t know. She hadn’t told them about the kid with the gun.
    “Someone tried to highjack my car last night.”
    “What?” Neva stood openmouthed. Glancing over at the burned-out house still holding the charred bodies, she said, “All this, and you had to deal with a carjacker?”
    Diane gave her a quick explanation, waving off her concerns with a flick of her hand. “It turned out all right.” And it had, but the kid with the bloody stump had haunted her dreams during the few hours’ sleep she was able to catch before Garnett’s call.
    Diane retraced her steps to where Lynn Webber stood shivering in her brown suede coat. Her white earmuffs looked like snowballs against her short black hair. Her tan linen slacks appeared wholly inadequate for the weather, as did her leather fashion boots with two-inch heels.
    Lynn’s dark eyes were somber. “How bad is it?” she asked.
    “Bad. Garnett is trying to find out how many students were involved. They’re setting up a command post near the morgue tent,” said Diane, gesturing for her to lead the way.
    “Allen Rankin and Brewster Pilgrim are waiting in that tent.” Webber pointed at the green and white striped tent. “They were offered hot coffee.”
    “Sounds good.” Diane smiled and walked with Webber toward the hospitality tent.
    “You know,” said Webber, “our local hospitals are better equipped to handle this. I feel as though I’ve run away with the circus.”
    “You’re preaching to the choir. Apparently, the mayor wants a very visible presence so everyone will see that he’s on top of the situation.”
    Lynn Webber shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. People do have a tendency to think you aren’t doing anything if they don’t see you doing it.”
    “Well, they’ll have a ringside seat here,” said Diane.
    As she walked with Lynn through the slush, she scanned the crowd that was gathering behind the police barricade. Cars were parked down the street as far as she could see. Too many people, she thought. Surely, this many people don’t have missing children.
    “Most are rubberneckers trying to catch site of something sensational,” said Lynn, as if reading Diane’s thoughts. “At least, I hope this many people haven’t lost a loved one.”
    As she grew closer to the onlookers, Diane could pick out the worried parents and friends. It was the look of desperation and fear that gave them away. The gawkers and ghouls had eyes that glittered with anticipation as they strained to get a look at the burned-out house in the distance. A man with a camera tried to get under the roped-off area, and a policeman pushed him back.
    “All those people . . . ,” whispered Lynn.
    Diane avoided meeting anyone’s gaze and was glad to duck inside the coffee tent. A young policeman was on his way out with a carton of several cups of coffee for the policemen standing duty. He nodded at them as he passed.
    There were few people other than medical examiners in the tent. A long table on one side held a commercial coffeemaker and an array of pastries. Four women manned the table, setting out plastic forks and packages of Styrofoam cups. They looked up as Diane and Lynn entered and began pouring two cups of coffee.
    A policewoman was arranging a desk near the entrance. Diane guessed it was to be the location to receive x-rays, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and other