Scattered Graves

from a piece of
jewelry? Earring? From a body piercing? She labeled
it and bagged it. A tiny clue.
Diane looked at the bones on the drying rack again.
They were a mixture of fragments from the skull, pieces
of rib, sections of long bone. When they dried she would
start laying them out in anatomical position on the table.
Who knew, maybe she could put Humpty Dumpty back
together again—after a fashion—provided it was one
individual. So far she hadn’t seen any indication that
there was more than one.
She picked up the petrosal and examined it. It
should produce a good cast of the ear canal. De
termining the sex would be another good clue. As she put the petrosal back on the drying screen,
she noticed something on one of the occipital bones.
On the corner of the piece was some beveling. The
fragment was not big, and the beveling could be an
artifact of the chipper—probably was—but it was
something worth looking at, especially if she could
find the adjacent bones. There was a possibility it was
a gunshot or projectile wound. That would be a big
clue.
A half-inch piece of metal, a petrosal, a possible
bullet hole—not even a handful of clues, but she had
just begun, and who knew what else the sifters would
find in the field.
Diane doffed her lab coat and gloves, washed her
hands, and was ready to lock up her lab. As she was
hanging her coat on its hook, she heard voices. The wall she stood next to separated her office from
the crime lab. She knew that on the crime lab side of
the wall was a large walk-in supply closet. The voices
seemed to be coming from there. The wall wasn’t
thick. There had been no reason to make it sound
proof when they constructed the closet as part of the
crime lab. Odd. The closet was not a place one usually
held conversations.
Though slightly muffled, the voices were loud enough
for her to hear some of the words. She stopped and
listened when she heard Bryce’s high-pitched speech
pattern and another voice that sounded like Curtis
Crabtree’s.
‘‘. . . apply for... job, not beat him up.’’ ‘‘I didn’t... wasn’t taking applications...’’ ‘‘. . . you’ve screwed...upnow...’’
‘‘Easy to fix...’’
There was the sound of a door opening.
‘‘What the hell do you want?’’ Bryce’s voice was no
longer in hushed tones.
‘‘Oh, sorry.’’ The new baritone voice was David’s.
‘‘I need some evidence envelopes. The four-by-nine
inch size. And a resupply of phenolphthalein for my
blood test kit—here we go.’’
She heard some rattling of supplies.
‘‘We have more supplies in the cabinets if you can’t
find what you’re looking for,’’ David said.
‘‘If you have what you need, go,’’ said Bryce. ‘‘Sure thing,’’ she heard David say, and the door
closed again.
Diane smiled. She didn’t have any doubt that David
interrupted them on purpose just to make Bryce un
comfortable. She immediately
David wasn’t getting reckless
frowned. She hoped in his dealings with Bryce. It wasn’t like David to be reckless, but lately
he’d been so moody. She let the thought slide. Diane stood there, reluctant to move, not wanting
to be heard near the wall. For several moments they
said nothing. Then Curtis spoke.
‘‘I have to go... later.’’
She heard the door open and close—presumably
leaving Bryce in the closet by himself. The oddity of
it brought another half smile to her lips. Strange. After
a moment she heard the door open and close again.
After another moment, she stepped back from the
wall quietly.

Chapter 4
    Diane was disturbed by Bryce and his employees, but it was nothing she could put her finger on. There was just something not right about the way Bryce was try ing to encroach on the DNA lab. David said Bryce was a control freak. It was probably nothing, just his aggressive, slimy personality.
    If she was honest, she thought to herself, there was a tiny speck of truth to Bryce’s accusation. She had been angry when the new chief of police, Edgar Peeks, showed up with no warning and introduced Bryce as her replacement as director of the crime lab. But that was three months ago and had nothing to do with Curtis Crabtree coming down to the DNA lab insisting on a job. Diane shook the nagging feelings as she left for home.
    Home. That was another change in Diane’s life of late. Her neighbors had asked her to move out of her apartment because, through no fault of her own, too many unsettling and sometimes horrific things had