Dust to Dust

decided we would conduct a study David had been wanting to do. It involves developing quicker methods for finding buried human remains. Starting in the backyard, he and two technicians from the DNA lab were using stakes and string to grid the property into squares. They would then take soil samples at defined increments and analyze them for their chemical constituents. Decomposing remains leave chemical signatures. We don’t know the range of the affected area for soil conditions in this region. The study was designed to answer some of the questions we don’t yet have answers for, and to locate any remains that are here.” Diane stopped to let it all soak in.
    “Couldn’t you use cadaver dogs?” he asked.
    “We suspect the remains could be decades old. The context in which Marcella found the broken pottery suggested the 1950s,” said Diane.
    “Okay, so I take it your . . . experiment worked,” he said.
    “In a rather serendipitous way,” said Diane. “While they were putting up stakes and strings for the grid, Hector fell into an abandoned well. It had been capped with wood that was covered in dirt and vegetation and had rotted over the years. The bone he discovered was at the bottom of the well. We suspect there are more,” said Diane.
    “Couldn’t the bone be from a deer or something?” said Hanks. “People do throw dead animals down dry wells to get rid of the carcasses.”
    Diane was surprised at how often she was asked that question. Even Frank had made a similar query at one time. She wondered whether they really thought it was hard to tell the difference between animal and human or if they thought the skull was required in order to make a positive species ID.
    “No,” she said simply.
    “Seriously, should we get the medical examiner to take a look?” he said.
    “You can if you want,” said Diane. “But it’s a right human tibia of someone in their teens. Possibly female, but that’s not certain. What is certain is that it is human.”
    “I take it you’ve done this before,” he said.
    Diane found it hard to believe that he didn’t know. But he was relatively new to Rosewood and apparently knew her only as the director of the crime lab and the museum.
    “I’m a forensic anthropologist,” said Diane.
    He winced and saw that David, Neva, and Mike were grinning at him. “Okay, I wasn’t aware. Do you know how long it was in the well?” he asked.
    “Probably more than fifty years. There is a particular smell the marrow leaves that lasts for decades in buried bone. That was gone. The bone had taken on the color of the surrounding soil, indicating it had been buried for most of its tenure in the well,” she said.
    “Where is it now?” he asked.
    “In my car, wrapped in newsprint. We’ll have to get someone out here to stabilize the sides of the well so we can get the remaining bones out.”
    “So, now you don’t have to complete your study,” he said.
    “Oh yes,” said Diane. “Just because we found bones in the well doesn’t mean the yard isn’t full of buried bodies.”

Chapter 37
    “Oh, I see,” said Hanks. “So we could have lots more bodies?” He stared at Diane. “Are you serious? This could be a . . . some maniac’s burial ground?” He shifted in his chair, winced suddenly, and rubbed his shoulder. “Damn it,” he said. “Sorry.”
    David got up and went to a cooler he had tucked in a corner of the room and brought everyone a cold drink. Diane took a long sip. It was a cool evening, but the ice-cold drink still tasted good.
    “Any idea who this serial killer is? We are talking about a serial killer, aren’t we?” he said. “And as wildly interesting as this is, it looks like it all happened a long time ago. Does it have anything to do with the here and now?” He took a drink and held the cool bottle on his collarbone.
    “Some kind of killer,” said Diane. “At best, someone who illegally disposed of a body. I don’t know that we have a whole yard full of bodies. We may have only the one in the well. As for a player in this, we have a few ideas. We think the ceramic artist might be the same one who wrote the strange message on the bottom of the desk drawer, and the one who did the paintings that were stolen.” Diane pointed to the wall over the sofa. David, Neva, and Mike turned to look at the blank wall as if a shadowy image might remain.
    “Why the pictures?” he asked. “They were painted by this Mad Potter?” Hanks asked.
    “I