“We don’t know what any of it means,” Jane said. “He could be an old acquaintance.”

“Someone who made her smile.”

“This was a medical conference. A bunch of pathologists who probably knew each other. Maybe he had nothing to do with why she went missing.”

“Or maybe Queenan’s right. And they’re holed up together in some hotel right now, having hot, crazy…” He stopped.

“At least it would mean she’s alive.”

“Yes. It would mean that.”

They both fell silent. It was only three PM, too early for cocktails. Except for a bartender stacking glasses behind the counter, they were the only ones in the gloomy lounge.

“If she did go off with another man,” said Jane quietly, “you can understand why it might happen.”

“I blame myself,” he said. “For not being that man. And I can’t help wondering…”

“What?”

“If she flew out here with plans to meet him.”

“Do you have any reason to think that?”

“Look at the way they smiled at each other. How comfortable they seemed.”

“They might be old friends.” Or old lovers was what she didn’t say. She didn’t need to; that thought must be tormenting him as well. “These are just theories, based on nothing,” she said. “All we have is the video of her going out to dinner with him. Meeting him in the lobby.”

“And smiling.” Pain darkened his eyes. “I couldn’t do that for her. I couldn’t give her what she needed.”

“What she needs now is for us not to give up hope. To keep looking for her. I’m not going to give up.”

“Tell me the truth.” He met her gaze. “You’ve been a homicide cop long enough to know. What do your instincts tell you?”

“Instincts can be wrong.”

“If she weren’t a friend, if this was just another missing persons case, what would you be thinking right now?”

She hesitated, and the only sound in the lounge was the clink of glassware as the bartender tidied up behind the counter, prepping for the upcoming cocktail hour.

“After this much time?” She shook her head. “I’d be forced to consider the worst.”

He didn’t seem surprised by her answer. By now he would have reached the same conclusion.

Her cell phone rang and they both froze. She glanced at the number. Queenan. As soon as she heard his voice on the line, she knew this was not a call that he wanted to be making. Nor a call that she wanted to receive.

“I’m sorry to have to break the news,” he said.

“What is it?”

“You should head over to Saint John’s Medical Center in Jackson. Dr. Draper will meet you there.”

“Dr. Draper? You mean the Sublette County Coroner?”

“Yes. Because that’s where it happened, in Sublette County.” There was a long and agonizing pause. “I’m afraid they found your friend.”

– -

“I THINK it’s best that you not see her,” Dr. Draper said, somberly facing Maura’s three friends across the conference table. “You should remember her the way she was. I’m sure she would want it that way as well.”

St. John’s was built to serve the living, not the dead, and through the closed door of the conference room they could hear the sounds of a normal day in a hospital: ringing phones, the chime of an elevator, the far-off wails of an infant in the ER. The sounds reminded Jane that, in the aftermath of tragedy, life still went on.

“The vehicle was discovered only this morning, off a backcountry road,” said Draper. “We can’t be certain how long it was lying in that ravine. There was a lot of damage from the fire. And afterward, from animal…” He paused. “It’s a wilderness area.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Jane knew what he was leaving out. In the natural world, creatures always lurked in Death’s shadow, waiting to feed with beaks and claws and sharp teeth. Even in Boston ’s suburban parks, a corpse would attract dogs and raccoons, rats and turkey vultures. In the rugged mountains of western Wyoming, there would be an even larger host of scavengers waiting to feast, scavengers that could gnaw off a face and detach a hand and scatter limbs. Jane thought of Maura’s ivory skin and regal cheekbones, and she wondered what remained of those features. No, I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to know what has become of her face.

“If the remains were so badly damaged, how did you make the identification?” asked Gabriel. He, at least, was still thinking like an investigator, still able to focus on what needed to be asked.

“There was sufficient evidence at the crash site to make an ID.”

“Evidence?”

“When the vehicle went into the ravine, a number of items were ejected from it. Several suitcases and other personal belongings that survived the fire.” He reached for the large cardboard box that he’d brought into the room. The smell of scorched plastic escaped as he lifted the lid. Although the items inside were sealed in evidence bags, the stench of fire and smoke was potent enough to penetrate even a ziplock bag. He paused for a moment, staring into the box, as though suddenly wondering if it might be a mistake to share the contents. But it was too late now to close it, to deny them the proof that he had promised. He pulled out the first evidence bag and set it on the desk.

Through the clear plastic, they could see a leather luggage tag. Flipping it over, Draper revealed the name written in neat block letters.

MAURA ISLES, MD.

“I take it that’s her correct address on the tag?” he asked.

Jane swallowed. “Yes,” she murmured. She did not dare glance at Daniel, who was sitting beside her. She didn’t want to see the devastation on his face.

“That was attached to one of the suitcases that was thrown from the vehicle,” said Draper. “You can examine the suitcase itself if you’d like. It’s in the custody of the Sublette County Sheriff’s Department, along with the larger items.” Reaching into the box, he pulled out other evidence bags and laid them on the table. There were two cell phones, one of them scorched. Another luggage tag, this one with the name Douglas Comley, MD. A man’s toilet case. A prescription bottle of lovastatin for a patient named Arlo Zielinski.

“The Suburban was rented by a Dr. Douglas Comley from San Diego,” said Draper. “He’d reserved it for ten days. We assume it was Dr. Comley who was behind the wheel when the vehicle went off the edge. The road makes a sharp curve there, and if it was nighttime, or snow was falling, visibility would have been poor. An icy road could have been a contributing factor as well.”

“Then you assume it was an accident,” said Gabriel.

Draper frowned. “As opposed to what?”

“There are always other possibilities to consider.”

The coroner sighed. “Given your line of work, Agent Dean, I suppose it’s natural that you’d be thinking of those other possibilities. But Sheriff Fahey concluded that this was an accident. I’ve already looked at the X-rays. The bodies have multiple fractures, which is what you’d expect. There are no bullet fragments, nothing to indicate anything other than what seems to have happened. The vehicle simply veered off a mountain road. It plunged fifty feet into a ravine, where it caught fire. I doubt any of the passengers survived the initial crash, so I think it’s safe to assume that your friend died on impact.”

“There was a snowstorm last Saturday, wasn’t there?” asked Gabriel.

“Yes. Why?”

“If there’s heavy snow on the vehicle, it might tell us when this happened.”

“I saw only a light dusting,” said Draper. “But then, the fire would have melted any snow cover.”

“Or the accident happened more recently.”

“But that still begs the question of where your friend has been for the last seven days. Time of death is going to be almost impossible to determine. I’m inclined to go by when the victims were last seen alive, which would make it Saturday.” He looked around the table at their troubled faces. “I realize this leaves many questions unanswered. But at least now you know what happened, and you can go home with a feeling of closure. You know her death was quick, and she probably didn’t suffer.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry it turned out this way.”