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Ears small and
rounded with a badly developed lobule ..."
    On and on it went. When Archie took swabs from the girl's vagina and
anus, Nalen felt a sharp sympathetic pinch in his groin like a stuck
zipper. An X-ray film of the victim's skull was attached to a light
box on the wall, the cranium cracked like an egg.
    "Cause of death was occlusion of the blood vessels supplying blood to
the brain," Archie told Nalen. "Most people mistakenly think it's the
lack of air that kills you, but it's really due to the lack of blood
going to the brain." He spoke into the mike. "There's bruising on the
middle fingernail of her left hand. X rays indicate an old injury to
the right arm, a fracture that's long since healed."
    "So she didn't fight back?"
    "I don't think she saw it coming. He hit her on the back of the
skull... perhaps with a large rock. Possibly a tire iron." He pried
the jaws apart and, using tongs, pulled out the extra-long tongue. "She
has a high-saddle palate and irregular, malformed teeth. Probably
sucked on her tongue, a habit that encourages fissuring and swelling of
the papillae. See here?"
    Nalen glanced at the tongue, then looked away.
    "Those bite marks are severe."
    "So it's your opinion she was strangled to death?"
    "You see the fingernail marks on both sides of the neck? Two hands
were used and the victim was strangled from the front. Erythematous
marks, here and here, are posterior to the sternocleidomastoid muscles.
But then he shifted his thumbs around to the front, see here? The two
thumbs were used to apply pressure to the larynx and trachea, which
results in erythematous markings on the anterior aspect of the neck."
    "Would the perp have scratch marks on him?"
    "Depends." Archie ruminated. "Remember that strangulation

    case a few years back with the two fellows outside the Peaked Hills
Bar and Grille? Even though the victim struggled, the assailant didn't
have a single scratch on him."
    "If he does have injuries," Nalen said, "they'd most likely be on the
backs of the hands and arms."
    "Maybe the face."
    "What about rape?"
    "As far as I can tell, no. We'll get the lab results in a week or so
and we'll know more then."
    "Okay," Nalen said, whipping off his surgical mask and tossing it in
the trash. "Call me if there's anything else."
    "I'll keep you posted, Chief."
    Nalen found Billy over at Gillian Dumont's and drove the boy back to
the station, where they sat together in his office. There were
citations on the wall, photographs of Nalen with the mayor, his
master's degree in criminal justice, and a montage of crime scene
photos from unsolved cases. His desk was piled high with interview
forms, evidence vouchers and unfiled autopsy reports.
    "Billy," Nalen began, "what do you know about this?" He handed Billy
the cat bell and the boy blanched.
    "I dunno." He handed it back.
    "You've never seen it before?"
    "Looks like a cat bell or something."
    "I know what it is, Billy." Nalen stared at him over steepled fingers.
"I want you to tell me the truth."
    Billy was a tall drink of water, a string bean who'd shot up three
inches in the past year alone. Faye couldn't keep up with his
adolescent appetite, always driving to the store for more food and
doubling the milkman's order. Nalen could feel his son's agitation in
the way he scratched his elbows and legs. His slender nose was
slightly crooked (he'd broken it falling out of an apple

    tree at age seven) and he'd bitten his nails to the quick. Now he
kept tugging anxiously on his red sweatshirt, the one with Aerosmith
stenciled on the front.
    "You know something," Nalen said firmly, thinking he could scare the
truth out of him, "so you'd better come out with it."
    "Maybe it belongs to one of those cats?" Billy said innocently
enough.
    "The cats you boys killed?"
    "I don't know ... probably ... maybe." He shrugged, emptying his face
of all emotion. Nalen hated that face. It went all the way back to
Billy's childhood, back