206 BONES Read Online Free PDF Page B

the body, or long thin part, of the sternum. If there’s no objection I’ll confine my comments to the sternal body, since that’s where the hole is situated.”
     
“Please.” It was Schechter’s first use of the word all morning.
     
I moved the laser sideways across Rose’s sternum.
     
“Note the transverse ridges. Each marks the site of fusion of separate juvenile elements called sternebrae. Ossification begins in the first sternebra during the fifth to sixth fetal month, in the second and third during the seventh to eighth fetal month, and in the fourth during the first year after birth.
     
“That is, if things progress normally. But sometimes they don’t. Occasionally a sternebra ossifies from more than one point of origin. In the lower sternebrae this variation usually involves two centers placed one beside the other.”
     
I paused. To annoy? Maybe.
     
“Failed union of these side-by-side centers results in an anomaly known as a sternal foramen.” I spoke slowly, a teacher addressing a dull student. “A variation resulting from incomplete fusion of a lower sternal segment as it ossifies from separate left and right centers.”
     
Schechter scribbled, underlined, then spoke again.
     
“You’re saying Rose had one of these things.”
     
“Yes. It’s stated on page three of my report, in the section headed ‘unique identifiers.’ ”
     
As Schechter flipped pages I projected a new image. With a tight shot of Rose’s foramen filling the screen, I listed characteristics.
     
“Single, circular defect, with a diameter of fourteen millimeters. Smooth, round edges, like a doughnut hole. Midline location, in the lower third of the sternal body. It’s textbook.”
     
“Could Rose have functioned normally with something like that?” Schechter’s cheeks had gone blotchy.
     
“People do it all the time.”
     
“Would she not have exhibited symptoms?”
     
“No.”
     
“How common is this condition?”
     
“Sternal foramina occur in roughly seven to ten percent of the population.”
     
No one spoke for what seemed a very long time.
     
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
     
“You found nothing to suggest that Rose had been shot?”
     
“Nothing.”
     
“No evidence of homicide?”
     
I shook my head. “No signs of strangulation, bludgeoning, stabbing, or slashing. No defense wounds on her finger, hand, or arm bones. Other than damage caused by bears, no signs of violence at all.”
     
“Show me.”
     
I took him through the skeleton, bone by bone.
     
Now and then, a mollified Schechter posed a question.
     
When my presentation finished we all sat mute.
     
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
     
I could see Schechter’s mind working, trying to classify new information. Perhaps tallying his billable hours for old Edward Allen.
     
“Tell me, Mr. Schechter. What prompted all this?” My gesture took in the screen, the reports, the four of us seated at the table.
     
“That’s hardly—”
     
“Germane. Indulge me.”
     
Schechter studied me, lips drawn into a thin hard line. I expected him to gather his pen and tablet and take his leave. To my surprise, he answered.
     
“Mr. Jurmain was informed that his daughter’s death investigation had either been botched or deliberately falsified.”
     
“By me.”
     
“Yes.”
     
“Informed by whom?”
     
Schechter hesitated, no doubt deciding how much to share, how much to hold back.
     
“The caller left no name.”
     
Anger overrode any triumph I might have felt at besting the man.
     
“You launched this witch hunt based solely on an anonymous tip?”
     
“My client believed the call to be genuine.”
     
“You could have counseled your client concerning proper protocol.”
     
Again the long stare.
     
I stared back.
     
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
     
Without comment, Schechter packed his belongings, snapped his briefcase, and walked to the door. Hand on the knob, he turned.
     
“You have an enemy, Dr. Brennan. I suggest it is in your interest to learn who placed that call.”
     
With that, he