Flesh and Bone: A Body Farm Novel bf-2
Page 32
“Burt, don’t ever take the witness stand yourself,” I said. “You’re a shitty liar.”
He looked slightly embarrassed. And immensely gratified.
I took Art’s shovel from him and began scooping out a flat, shallow depression in the freshly spread earth, in a space we’d left amid the creeping juniper and laurel bushes. When I had the spot to my liking, I tore open a bag of pea gravel I’d brought. I poured a thin layer of gravel across the bottom of the circular hole, then a thicker layer around the rim. Then I bent down and lifted one edge of the granite plaque DeVriess and Evers had lugged up the hill, so it was standing vertical. Art and Evers stepped forward to help me, but I shook my head. “Thanks,” I said, “but I’d like to do this myself.”
Rocking the stone slab up onto first one corner, then another, I walked it over to the bed of gravel I’d laid. I fussed with the stone’s placement, lining up the bottom edge so that the corners would be equidistant from the rim of the circle, then eased it down to horizontal. I rotated it a fraction of an inch clockwise, then a smaller fraction back the other way, squaring it up with the pine tree and the plantings. Then I knelt down and spread more of the pebbles around it so the rough-hewn edges jutted up by about an inch all the way around.
I stood up and stepped back for a better look. As I did, Miranda came and stood close beside me on my right. I felt her take my right hand in her left, and then felt Art put an arm around me from the other direction. Evers and DeVriess and Miss Georgia Youngblood stepped forward, forming a circle around the marker, and I noticed hands clasping all around, heads bowing toward the inscription chiseled into the granite.
IN MEMORY OF DR. JESS CARTER
WHO WORKED FOR JUSTICE
WORK IS LOVE MADE VISIBLE
“Sleep well, Jess,” I whispered for the third time in as many weeks.
We stood in silence. Somewhere overhead I heard the high, sweet song of a mockingbird.
The spell was broken by the beep of a pager. Hands came unclasped and reached into pockets, fumbled at belts. “I’m sorry; it’s mine,” said John Evers. He stepped away, and a moment later I heard him talking quietly on his cellphone. When he returned, he caught my eye. “That was Dispatch,” he said. “Fisherman just found a floater under the Henley Street bridge. Pretty ripe, apparently.”
“Suicide?”
“Not unless the guy shot himself in the back of the head on the way down. Could you come take a look?”
My adrenaline spiked even before he finished asking. “Let’s go,” I said, starting down the path toward the gate. After a few steps, I stopped and looked back. Evers drew alongside me and turned, too. Miranda, Art, Burt DeVriess, and Miss Georgia Youngblood remained circled around Jess’s marker-around Jess herself, it somehow seemed. At the same time, I felt their presence-friendship, maybe even love-encircling me as well. And not theirs alone: I felt Jess, too, around me and deep within me. The force of it-the gift of it-made my breath catch.
“You okay, Doc?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
Reprinted from Human Osteology: A Laboratory and Field Manual (fourth edition), by William M. Bass. © Missouri Archaeological Society, Inc., 1995.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Advances in the science of forensic anthropology, which plays a crucial role in the cases in this series, would not have been possible without the research and experimentation by my many graduate students. To them, I offer my greatest respect.
After the publication of Carved in Bone, I was surprised at the number of people who bonded with the characters in that first novel. Now, though, as we’ve worked on this second one, I’ve become much more attached to our characters, too-so much so that I miss those who are not around. As I shed tears for one of them, I reflected that I could not have found a better writer to collaborate with than Jon Jefferson.
To my wife, Carol, who has difficulty separating the fiction from the facts in the Body Farm novels, I offer my sincere thanks for her support. Carol claims she knows who the student is that Dr. Bill Brockton kissed in Carved in Bone. I say, “Carol, this is all fiction.” She says, “Art Bohanan is not fiction.”
— Dr. Bill Bass
My forensic discussions with Bill Bass, and my lunches with Bill and Carol, rank high on my list of life’s delights. It’s always fun when the discussion in our restaurant booth makes nearby heads turn…or makes Carol’s cheeks go crimson. Art Bohanan-real-life fingerprint expert and children’s advocate-has been remarkably gracious about letting us borrow from his cases and his causes, and we’re proud to dedicate this book to the memory of his son.
Knoxville Police Department investigators Tom Evans and Tim Snoderly shared their time and insights generously, as did the staff at the booking and detention facility of the Knox County Sheriff ’s Office, especially Sgt. Robert Anderson.
From one side of the courtroom, criminal defense attorney David Eldridge-as smart as Burt DeVriess, but far less slippery-coached me on defense strategy; from the opposite side, Assistant District Attorney Jennifer Welch helped me untangle the Gordian knot of criminal-court procedures.
Forensic technology is getting more sophisticated all the time; for sharing their time and technical expertise, I thank forensic audio and video consultant Tom Owen as well as Doug Perkins and John Laycock of Ocean Systems.
Elaine Giardino, parish administrator of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Chattanooga, kindly escorted me through the nooks, crannies, and staircases of her lovely church. I explored the nooks and crannies of the Hamilton County medical examiner’s facility thanks to Tom Bodkin, the staff forensic anthropologist there (another of Dr. Bass’s bright and successful protégés), and his boss, Medical Examiner Frank King, M.D. In Knoxville, at the Regional Forensic Center, I also owe a debt of gratitude to Knox County Medical Examiner Sandra Elkins, M.D., who drives a sports car but does not, as far as I know, resemble Jess Carter in any other personal respects.
For insights into the Scopes trial, I extend my gratitude both to University of Missouri law professor Douglas Linder (who has a fascinating series of websites about great trials) and to Richard Cornelius, a Scopes historian and the curator of the Scopes Evolution Trial Museum in Dayton, Tennessee.
I’m grateful to JJ Rochelle, John Craig, David Brill, and Sybil Wyatt, dear friends and true; to my sister Sara, for seeing me through a move to Baltimore; and to sweet, smart, sassy, and ever-capable Cindy.
Our agent, Giles Anderson, continues to do a spectacular job of keeping us off the streets and happily writing. We have a wonderfully supportive team at William Morrow: Sarah Durand, editor extraordinaire; crack publicists Seale Ballenger, Eryn Wade, and Buzzy Porter; marketing geniuses Rachel Bressler and Kevin Callahan; and sales wizards Brian McSharry, Michael Morris, Mike Spradlin, and Carla Parker. We’re also grateful to everyone who succeeded in getting us off those shelves, including booksellers who have recommended us and-especially-readers who have responded so warmly to Dr. Bill Brockton, Art, and their sundry partners in crime.
Finally, profound gratitude to Seabiscuit, who galloped through these pages with me and helped make them smarter and better. What a beautiful, brilliant ride.
— Jon Jefferson
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-7dcbc2-184d-1041-58a1-2fba-9014-bf0f1f
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 07.06.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.4, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
alaskin
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать матер�
�ал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/