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scene.’’
‘‘The sheriff told us not to talk about it,’’ said Chris.
‘‘He can’t order you not to talk.’’
‘‘And you can’t order us to talk.’’ Chris shrugged. ‘‘As soon as we saw the bodies, we left and called the sheriff. That’s it.’’
‘‘How many bodies were there?’’
‘‘We can’t say anything about it.’’
‘‘What was it like, coming upon dead bodies?’’
The two of them glared at her a moment. ‘‘What do you think it was like?’’ said Steven. ‘‘How many times have you found dead bodies in your work place?’’
Diane was glad to see that they were more reluctant to talk to the reporter than they were to talk with her.
As the reporter was trying to pull answers from Chris and Steven, Diane saw the two deputies, Chuck and Leon, coming up the trail from the crime scene to tape off the vehicle path through the woods. She walked down to meet them.
‘‘I’m glad you’re here. I fear I was going to have a hard time keeping that reporter from crashing the crime scene.’’
‘‘That’s Pris Halloran from that little TV station in Atlanta, WXNG,’’ said Chuck. ‘‘She cruises around listening to her scanner. She’s always trying to break a big story. Mostly, she makes a whole lot out of nothing.’’
‘‘The guy’s Kyle Anthony,’’ said Leon. ‘‘He got fired from one of the big Atlanta stations after he was arrested for possession of cocaine.’’
‘‘I think both of them’s hungry for some kind of big news score,’’ said Chuck. ‘‘I see she’s giving the timber guys a hard time.’’
From the stiff posture Chris and Steven had taken, folded arms, head down, Diane guessed Chuck was right.
‘‘Would you get that damn thing out of my face? You trying to get a view of my tonsils?’’ Chris’ voice carried clearly down the road to where Diane and the deputies were securing the crime scene tape.
‘‘Looks like Chris Edwards needs a little backup,’’ said Leon.
The three of them walked up to them at a fast pace. ‘‘Everything all right here?’’ asked Leon.
‘‘I’m just conducting an interview,’’ said Pris Halloran.
‘‘We’ve got to get back to work.’’ Steven opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
‘‘You know,’’ said Diane, ‘‘if the sheriff gets up to the road and you aren’t there, you’re not likely to get another chance to talk with him today.’’
That got the reporter and the cameraman moving. They jumped in their SUV and backed up to the turn around and left before Chris and Steven could make their getaway.
    ‘‘Fill me in,’’ Diane said to Jin when she finally got back to the main crime scene.
Jin handed over the sketches he and Neva had made.
‘‘We found something interesting.’’ He led her to the bodies through the path they had searched and cleared. ‘‘Notice anything funny?’’
Diane scrutinized the corpse in front of her, tuning out the aroma of decaying flesh. She looked at the hands tied at the wrist, well on their way to becom ing skeletonized.
‘‘Well, damn,’’ she said.
The killer had cut off the fingertips, leaving an open wound for the flies to lay their eggs and the maggots to infest quickly. The flesh on the hands was eaten away before the rest of the body.
‘‘Damn’s right,’’ said Jin. ‘‘No chance of getting prints.’’
‘‘I suppose the others are the same.’’
‘‘Yes. Lots of good opportunities for getting some thing from the ropes, though. I’d like to watch you examine them. Been wanting to learn to do that.’’ ‘‘Finding anything on the ground?’’
‘‘Lots of bugs. David’s got quite a collection. That’s about all so far.’’
Neva stood up from the farthest grid square from Diane. ‘‘I have something here.’’
Diane
searched
covered.
crossed the grids that had already been and stooped to see what Neva had dis
    ‘‘It’s just a rope,’’ she said, ‘‘but . . . well, there’s a lot of