“In rural areas, law enforcement is handled by La Sûreté du Québec, or SQ. In places without provincial police, meaning all provinces except Ontario and Quebec, it’s the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or RCMP, or, to Francophones, the Gendarmerie royale du Canada, or GRC. Occasionally, the Mounties are invited into an investigation in Quebec, but that’s rare.”

In other words, jurisdiction in La Belle Province can be as confusing as in any American state. FBI. State bureau of investigation. City. County. Highway patrol. Sheriff ’s department. Who you gonna call? Good luck. Bonne chance. Ryan didn’t say that.

“L’Auberge des Neiges is located seventy-five kilometers north of the Island of Montreal, in the Laurentian Mountains. The nearest town is Sainte-Marguerite. Thus, Ms. Jurmain’s case fell to the SQ. Shall I continue?”

Again Schechter flapped an arrogant hand. I wanted to reach across the table and smack the self-righteous little prick.

“Thirty months after Ms. Jurmain’s disappearance, on twenty-one March, André Dubreuil and his son Bertrand stumbled on what they believed to be human remains. Their find was located twenty yards off a provincial road, approximately one half mile north of L’Auberge des Neiges. The SQ, the coroner, and the LSJML were notified. In that order.”

As I projected a second map, Schechter jotted his first note of the morning. Then, “You are a homicide detective with this SQ?”

“Section des crimes contre la personne.”

I translated. “Detective Ryan is with the equivalent of homicide, a section called Crimes Against Persons. He is assigned to special cases.”

“And this case would be deemed special because … ?” Schechter elongated the last word of his unfinished statement.

“From the outset it was suspected that the remains in question were those of Ms. Jurmain. Since she was a non-Canadian national, an American, the case was assigned to Detective Ryan.”

Schechter and Corcoran glanced at the police incident report Ryan slid to them. When their attention returned to the screen I moved through a new series of JPEGs.

The first provided a wide-angle view of a narrow two-lane blacktop, its gravel shoulder butting up to dense forest. The next six documented the route from the road to the body. On the ground, islands of snow overlaid dead vegetation, their perimeters darkened by meltwater runoff.

The eighth image showed yellow crime scene tape looping a stand of pines. In the ninth, people stood inside the tape. Ryan was there in a pea green parka and bright blue scarf. Two recovery techs wore navy jump-suits stamped Service de l’identité judiciaire, Division des scènes de crime. So did I. Vapor billowed from every mouth.

Shot ten was a close-up of a small dark mound emerging from the snow. Embedded in the jumble of leaves, twigs, moss, and pine needles was a glossy brown object the size of a cabbage. A mass of matted gray hair lay to its right.

“The skull.” I circled it using the laser pointer.

The next few shots focused on the partial skeleton, spread in a largely linear pattern from the skull. Mandible. Vertebrae. Ribs. Sternum. Pelvic halves. Sacrum. Right hand. Right leg. Everything was stained the same burnt umber.

One by one, I named the bones.

“Obviously human,” Corcoran said.

“Animals had scattered bones over approximately twenty square meters,” I said.

As I projected my site map, Ryan produced hard copies. “Dr. Brennan documented the position of each skeletal element.”

When Corcoran and Schechter looked up, I resumed the presentation, moving outward from the central cluster through the dispersed remains.

“Each plastic cone marks the location of a bone or bone cluster.” Advancing through the images, I again identified body parts. “Right femur, tibia, and patella. Right calcaneous. Right tarsals, metatarsals, and phalanges. Right radius. Right ulna and hand bones. Left lower central incisor. Right upper central incisor.”

“Could we move this along?” Schechter said.

Ryan resumed.

“Given Ms. Jurmain’s known history of alcoholism, the evidence of prescription drug abuse, eyewitness accounts, and the climatic conditions on the night of her absence from the inn, the coroner ruled manner of death as accidental and cause of death as hypothermia exacerbated by intoxication.”

“You’re saying Rose got drunk, wandered off, and froze to death.” Schechter.

“Basically, yes. Shortly, Dr. Brennan will discuss skeletal identification and analysis of trauma.”

“Not shortly. Now.”

“Sir?”

“Enough of this ridiculous subterfuge.”

Startled, I looked at Ryan. His face was a stone mask pointed at the lawyer across the table. Recognizing his expression, I jumped in.

“Detective Ryan has been providing background for the coroner’s conclusion. But if your preference is to move on, we have no objection.”

“I suggest we go directly to your report, Dr. Brennan.”

“I suggest you specify what it is you want.” Ryan’s tone was a steel blade.

“Very well, Detective.” Schechter’s chin cocked up slightly. “My client does not believe his daughter died of exposure. He believes she was murdered.”

Placing both forearms on the tabletop, Schechter laced his fingers, and leaned in.

“Further, he believes Dr. Brennan concealed that fact.”

MY EYES JUMPED TO CORCORAN. HE CONTINUED STARING AT THE screen.

“Is that so?” Ryan’s tone suggested trench warfare. “To what purpose?”

“That is what I intend to find out.”

Schechter wiggled manicured fingers at the pointer.

I handed it to him.

“Project the close-up of the undisturbed remains.”

Stomach knotted, I did as requested. As demanded.

The red dot appeared on the half-buried skeleton, drifted across the mandible, the clavicles, and the upper ribs. Coming to rest, it performed jerky pirouettes around the breastbone.

“That’s the sternum,” I said.

“I am aware of that.”

The gut clench eased. Was that where Schechter was going? If so, he was a bigger dumbass than I thought. He must not have consulted an osteologist.

Closing the death scene file, I opened another containing photos taken at the LSJML. The first few depicted a body bag, zipped then unzipped, the latter displaying jumbled bones visible in the bag’s interior.

The next series showed an autopsy table, dirt-encrusted skeleton atop the stainless steel. A few bones were connected by desiccated muscle or ligament. Most lay loose, in positions approximating those they’d occupied when the body was intact.

“Here you see the remains as they arrived at the morgue, prior to any manipulation. Shall I identify individual elements?”

Schechter gave another haughty wave. The old wheezer had quite a repertoire.

“Shall I explain my cleaning process?”

“Not germane.”

“Dandy. Let’s proceed to ID.”

“My client does not question that the remains are those of his daughter.”

“Groovy. Let’s talk about trauma. Shall I clarify the terms antemortem, perimortem, and postmortem?”

“Succinctly.”

“With skeletal remains, antemortem refers to trauma occurring prior to death, injuries sustained earlier in life and showing evidence of healing. Perimortem refers to trauma suffered at or close to the time of death. Postmortem refers to trauma inflicted after death, damage associated with decomposition, abuse of the body, animal scavenging, and such.”

“How is this germane?” Clearly, Schechter liked the word.

“It is germane to your client’s understanding of what happened to his daughter. And, perhaps more important, what did not.”

Again the hand.

“I will not belabor the importance of distinguishing between perimortem and postmortem trauma. I would like to make clear, however, that, for the anthropologist, this distinction has more to do with bone quality than it does with time of death. It’s a complex subject, so forgive me if I oversimplify.