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anything, eye-balling the foot and doing the math. Nikki Brant’s second toe was missing. Something had been taken from the house after all.
    Gainer shrugged off the horror as best he could, his face pale, his eyes rising up the body until they reached the plastic bag over the victim’s head.
    “I don’t think we should pull this thing,” he said. “Nothere anyway. There might be something inside worth preserving. What do you guys think?”
    “We need a picture of her face,” Rhodes said. “A Polaroid to show the husband. And we’re gonna need a rape kit.”
    “I understand,” Gainer said. “But if we pull the bag at the autopsy, we’ll have more control.”
    Novak thought it over, his eyes on Gainer. “You got any idea how fast we can get her in?”
    “We’re backed up two or three days, Hank. But under the circumstances, I’ll bet we could bump her to the top of the list. If you want, I’ll make sure it happens. We’ll schedule the cut for late this afternoon.”
    Rhodes stepped across the safe zone to the other side of the bed. “What about slicing the bag open for the picture?”
    Gainer nodded in agreement. “Seems like the way to go.”
    “Then let’s do it,” Novak said.
    Gainer pulled a razor-sharp scalpel from his kit and drew the blade down the center of the bag. As he pulled the plastic away from Nikki Brant’s face, everyone stepped closer.
    “There’s moisture,” he whispered. “She was breathing when the bag went over her head. We need to get a shot of this before it dries.”
    Gainer leaned out of the way to give Lamar room. After a Polaroid was taken, Lamar switched back to his Nikon, the camera eating up another roll of film. As the strobe light started flashing again, Lena stared at Nikki Brant’s face and tangled black hair. Even with her eyes open, her gaze just off-center and lost in a thousand-yard stare, Lena could tell that the victim had been a beautiful woman. Before last night anyway. There was a certain innocence about her. A certain something Lena couldn’t really put into words.
    “Did anyone talk to the husband about notifying her family?” she asked.
    Novak couldn’t meet her eyes right away. An awkward moment passed.
    “She’s an orphan,” he finally said. “Other than us, he’s the only one she’s got.”
    The room fell silent, lost in the metallic rhythm of thecamera’s motor drive. Lena knew that Novak had hesitated because she was an orphan, too. About the same age as Nikki Brant. As she turned back to the corpse, a deep feeling of loneliness welled up inside her, mixed with an overwhelming sense of compassion.
    And then the room appeared to shake.
    For a split second Lena thought it might be an earthquake. She felt her chest tighten. She saw Rhodes flinch. Novak reached for the wall and Gainer dropped his scalpel.
    But it wasn’t an earthquake at all. It was music, blaring from the clock radio. Everyone turned toward the dresser and glared at the fucking thing.
    Lena grabbed it, fumbling with the dials until she found the right switch. As the music bounced off the bloodstained walls and finally dissipated into the gloom, everyone turned back to the dead body with the severed toe and checked their watches. Their nerves.
    The alarm had been set for 7:30 a.m. Time for Nikki Brant to wake up.

IT was part of the job, but that didn’t make it any easier. They needed to place the victim at the crime scene and ID the body. They needed James Brant to say that the picture of the corpse Lena held in her jacket pocket was his wife.
    Brant leaned against the open car door, burying his head in his arms. Lena stood beside Novak facing Brant on the other side.
    “Where’s Tito going?” Brant asked in a shaky voice.
    “The Red Cross is here,” Lena said. “He’s getting you a cup of coffee.”
    Brant looked up, his curly brown hair dusted with droplets of rain. Lena followed his gaze to Sanchez, strolling across the lawn toward a pickup truck parked in