The Bone Bed

for even Jill Donoghue to explain why Mildred Lott’s body was found frozen rock-solid inside one of Al Galbraith’s freezers.
    “Donoghue will say Channing Lott had something to do with it or is to blame, and what’s maddening about it is he can’t be tried again.” Benton’s voice is glum, his chin resting on top of my head.
    “Well, that would be a good argument.” I feel his heartbeat through my jacket, and I reach up to kiss him. “And I’m glad you’re not the lawyer in this case. Let’s go eat.”
    •   •   •
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credits
    As always, I’m grateful to those who so generously share their expertise during a Scarpetta journey. All of you help make the magic.
    Thank you, Dr. Marcella Fierro, for all things forensic-pathological, and as always I’m grateful for Dr. Nicholas Petraco, the guru of trace evidence.
    I’m indebted to Stephen Braga for guiding me through legal dilemmas and courtroom scenes, and to Cambridge Police Detective Danny Marshall for letting me tag along with him.
    Hugs to Dan and Donna Aykroyd for daring Staci and me to join them on a dinosaur dig in northwest Canada’s bone beds, where I found a seventy-million-year-old tooth and the idea for this novel.
    What a blast that the U.S. Coast Guard (San Diego) and the Boston Fire Department’s marine unit shared their go-fast boats with me.
    I’ll always owe you, Connie Merigo, the New England Aquarium’s rescue director, for teaching me all about sea turtles, and allowing me to get close enough to touch and smell a rare leatherback.
    And words of thanks aren’t enough for my partner, Dr. Staci Gruber, my muse for technology, for everything.