The Night Killer

say it was a deer,” he said. “Not that it would make a bit of sense. But you can’t know if it’s human, is what his lawyer would say.”
    “His lawyer would be wrong,” said Diane. “We can identify human antigens if they are there.” Diane didn’t explain immunochemistry to Sheriff Conrad. She would let him ask if he wanted a lengthier explanation.
    “You can tell if it’s human . . . even without the body?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she said.
    Diane was a little surprised. She had worked with most of the surrounding county sheriffs, and they were amazingly up-to-date on forensics. Sheriff Conrad seemed like a throwback to another era. He must really hate scientific progress , she thought. Or really be uninterested in it.
    “Did you kill the Barres?” he asked.
    If he thought he was going to surprise her, he would be disappointed. Diane expected his question, expected it to be out of the blue, expected him to drill her with his small, dark eyes the way he was doing now.
    “No, of course not,” she said, meeting his eyes.
    “Travis told me about your trek through the woods. I’d like to hear it from you,” he said. “It’s a wild tale Travis told me. I’d be interested to know if he got it wrong, or you really did what he said.”
    Diane put her hands in front of her on the desk and began her narrative. She started with her visit to the Barres, about the good meal that Ozella Barre had on the table when she arrived, about all the stories that Roy Barre told of his grandfather over dinner. Diane told him how she said good-bye to the Barres and tried to find her way back to the main road in the downpour.
    Sheriff Conrad was a patient listener: He never interrupted; he just watched her as she spoke. Diane told him about finding her way to the Massey house, only to have a tree fall on the hood of her SUV and break apart.
    She was about to talk about the skeleton when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. David poked his head in.
    “I have some results for you,” he said. “All of the analysis that you asked for.”
    The sheriff seemed not to like the interruption. He frowned slightly, first at Diane, then at David.
    Diane was surprised. “You guys must have worked all night.”
    “We did,” he said.
    “Come in,” Diane told him.
    David entered with Detective Hanks close behind.
    “Hello, Diane,” said Hanks. “I’ve had quite a time here. You guys do some detailed work.”
    Diane stood up and introduced them. “Sheriff Conrad, this is David Goldstein, he’s my assistant director of the crime lab,” she said. “Detective Hanks is with the Rosewood Police Department.” She gestured to each of them.
    “Hanks has been observing,” said David.
    Not rising, the sheriff nodded to the two of them. David nodded back and put a box on Diane’s desk and began to unload several boxes and envelopes out of it.
    The sheriff looked more annoyed, but Diane could see he was trying to hide it. She didn’t explain that the boxes had to do with his case. That explanation was going to be tricky, and she didn’t look forward to it.
    David picked up a small box, like the kind she used in the osteology lab. He looked at her and winked.
    “We found a little surprise under the hood of your SUV,” he said, giving Diane a whisper of a smile.
    Diane opened the box. It was indeed a little surprise.

Chapter 15
    In the box on cotton batting lay the distal and medial phalanges of a right hand.
    As Diane looked at the bones, David and Hanks slipped out the door, leaving her alone in her office with Sheriff Conrad.
    “I have your body,” Diane said to the sheriff.
    Leland Conrad jumped as if his chair had shocked him.
    “What?”
    He leaned forward with his hand outstretched.
    Diane rose from her desk, walked around to his chair, and handed him the box with the two small bones.
    “They are finger bones from the right hand,” she said.
    He peered into the box and looked up at her. “You sure they’re human?” he said. “Mighty small.”
    “Quite sure,” said Diane. “They’re human. When the skeletal hand hit my windshield and broke apart, these two bones fell down into the recess behind the windshield wipers. And that’s where my people found them. The smallest one is the tip of the finger.” She held up her hand and pointed to the tip of her own finger. “Finger bones can be very small.”
    “Looks like they’re from a baby,” he said.
    “They’re from an adult. Infant bones are tiny