“Shit,” Mark and I said in unison. He turned to me and said, “Kelly, you know her. You’ve got to come with me.”

I caught the urgency in his voice and remembered that Mark, who had been viciously attacked by a dog when he was ten, has a fear of them. He’s embarrassed by that fear-no one else in the newsroom knew about it-and he’s tried to overcome it. But the look on his face said he didn’t want to deal with this situation alone.

“Sure, Mark,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Three minutes later, we were on our way to the Sheffield Estate.

Monday, April 24

6:05 P.M.

THE SHEFFIELD ESTATE

THE gate was open this time, and no police officer was stationed at the top of the road. When we reached the parking lot at the construction site, a familiar Chevy Suburban was already parked near the area where the remains had been found earlier in the day. The big SUV belonged to Anna Stover, a professional dog trainer-and Ben’s ex-girlfriend. Sheila Dolson was standing outside the vehicle, smoking. In the back, one of Anna’s Labradors was in his crate. Altair was in the crate next to his. The back windows were down.

The crime-scene tape that had been tied around the area earlier in the day was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if it had been removed by the police or by Anna and Sheila. I couldn’t believe Anna would dare it.

Anna stepped out of the Suburban. Sheila was a little younger than Anna, and there was that tiger hair of hers, but they were both slender and athletic. Sheila’s smoking had yet to take a real toll on her.

One other major difference was immediately apparent: Sheila looked extremely confident, in fact, smug. Anna, who usually exuded an air of self-confidence that was not so much smug as based on real competence, looked decidedly uneasy.

I greeted them and started introductions, but got no further before the flashing lights of a patrol car caught our attention. Right behind the patrol car were two vehicles: an unmarked Crown Victoria and Ben’s pickup truck.

It was getting crowded in the parking area by then. I heard Anna say, “Oh Jesus, Sheila. Tell me you didn’t call Ben.”

“I called the coroner’s office,” she said. “They must have called him.”

“Of course they did,” I said. “It’s his case. But Sheila, you knew that.”

Anna looked back and forth between us, frowning. Sheila shrugged and ground her cigarette out beneath the heel of a muddy boot.

A stiff wind came up, and we all hunched our shoulders in defense against it. It scattered leaves below and clouds above. Only a little more than an hour was left before sunset, but the sun declared its presence rather spectacularly, breaking through the clouds to make one of those inspirational skies.

Nothing could have been in greater contrast to the mood of the people quickly gathering below.

Ben got out of his truck, Caleb following. I noticed they had changed clothes.

Vince Adams and his partner, Reed Collins-the two detectives who had worked the scene earlier in the day-emerged from the Crown Vic. The two of them seem like opposites in many ways-Vince looks as if he took up police work after a career in the boxing ring, while Reed looks as if he could leave police work for a film career at any time. More than one criminal has made the mistake of thinking Vince lacks sophistication or that Reed is too genteel to get his hands dirty. They’re both streetwise and smart as hell, and have the kind of dogged persistence that solves cases. At the moment, they both looked extremely unhappy. So did Ben and Caleb. The woman patrol officer getting out of the black-and-white added her scowl to theirs.

“Lady,” Vince said to Sheila, “I don’t know what your game is, but I have a good mind to arrest you right here and now and let you do your explaining in custody.”

“Arrest me?” Sheila’s smugness dimmed a bit.

“Let’s start with trespassing-”

“The gate was open!”

Vince looked to Anna.

“That’s true,” she said.

“You changing the way your SAR group operates, Anna?” he asked.

Her cheeks reddened slightly. “No, but-”

“So you think it’s okay to search a crime scene in LPPD jurisdiction without mentioning it to us?”

“What’s more important,” Sheila interrupted, “helping a family find the remains of a missing person, or bolstering Ben Sheridan’s fragile male ego?”

There were outbursts from several quarters at that. If I hadn’t been there on the job, I would have objected, too, but under the circumstances, I had to keep quiet. Ben didn’t speak up in his own defense, but Anna didn’t speak up, either. I felt my temper rising.

“All right, all right,” Vince was saying, taking control of the conversation again. “Exactly what happened during your unauthorized search within a fenced-in area surrounded by signs that say Keep Out, No Public Access, and Authorized Personnel Only?”

“I asked Anna to accompany me. I wanted someone who has credibility with the local group-with Las Piernas SAR Dogs-and with your department to witness the search and confirm any find. Anna is the president of that organization, and she graciously agreed to drive over here with us and to bring one of her own dogs.” She nodded toward the dogs in the Suburban.

“Anna watched as Altair and I went to work,” Sheila went on. “We weren’t searching for very long before Altair alerted. I’ve placed a marker where Altair found these.”

She handed a small plastic bag to the detective.

Caleb groaned. “You removed possible evidence! Didn’t any of your other cadaver dog groups teach you not to do that?”

She glowered at him but turned when Mark asked, “What is it you found?”

“Teeth,” she said solemnly. “I bagged them because I didn’t want to lose them,” she added with a significant look at Caleb. “There are bound to be more remains! All I’m asking is that you allow us to search again tomorrow. Anna has asked me to be part of the Las Piernas SAR team.” This time, her look was one of pure triumph and was aimed toward Ben. It missed its mark-he was looking down at his feet.

For a moment there was silence.

“Lady,” Vince said, “I don’t care if you found the pope’s kneecaps out here and he agreed to make you a saint out of gratitude. I’m still considering taking you in.” He turned to Ben. “Ben, can you bring Bingle and some of the other dogs and people on the local team out here tomorrow?”

Sheila started to squeal a protest, but Vince held up a hand. He turned to the patrol officer. “Officer, if she interrupts me one more time, place her under arrest.”

He turned back to Ben.

Ben said, “Sure, I’ll search with Bingle, but I’m not going to bring anyone from the local team.” He looked up at Anna. “As of now, I’m no longer with Las Piernas SAR Dogs.”

“Ben, no!” Anna protested. “Ben, let’s talk this over.”

He shook his head.

Reed, always the quieter of the two detectives, spoke up. “Anna, did things happen here the way Ms. Dolson said they did?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call you first. I should have. But-but isn’t the most important thing that we found evidence?”

“I don’t know that you did,” Reed said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Ms. Dolson here is not a forensic odontologist, forensic anthropologist, forensic pathologist, or a dentist, is she?”

“No, but-”

“And while maybe some guy on TV can get DNA out of anything and get results in twenty minutes, that TV show probably gets more funding for an episode than our lab gets for an annual budget for DNA.”

“But if DNA can be extracted from the teeth, and it does match a missing person’s DNA-”

“Then I’m not sure the district attorney is going to like how it came into our possession. When Ben and Caleb were doing their work here today, it was in a completely controlled and documented manner, by people with credentials and expertise. You and Ben are obviously having some kind of trouble, and I’m sorry for that, but it doesn’t have anything to with what I’m saying to you right now.”