Now, while Hochheim packs tools into the canvas bag and carries it to the Prius, Stevitch approaches me. “I think we’ve extracted everything this site is going to relinquish,” he tells me.

“I appreciate your coming out so quickly and on such short notice,” I tell him.

“It is the nature of the beast.” He chuckles. “This may sound morbid, Chief Burkholder, but we anthropologists live for the dig.”

“Any thoughts you can share?” Tomasetti asks.

Sobering, he rubs his beard between his thumb and forefinger. “Interestingly, about twenty percent of the bones are missing. More than likely scavenged by animals.”

“Do you have enough for identification?” I ask.

“Fortunately, we have the teeth, which are typically an excellent source of DNA. I’ll extract samples and send them off to the lab and get us into the queue.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to come up with height or weight?” I ask. “Race?”

“Eventually, but it’s not going to be a speedy process. I’ll get to work on a biological profile as soon as I get everything logged. That includes age, sex, stature, and ancestry.”

“What about clothing?” I ask. “Any personal items?”

“A few scraps of fabric, but it’s very deteriorated.” He lifts a large clear plastic envelope containing several smaller envelopes of different sizes, some of which are paper, some plastic. “Metal detector picked up a couple of interesting items.” He indicates a tiny clear plastic envelope inside. “This ring. Small diamond. Band is probably gold.”

“Looks like a woman’s ring,” Tomasetti says.

“An engagement ring?” I add.

“Or a wedding ring,” Stevitch concurs. “We’ll take a look at it under magnification and see if we can come up with some kind of identifying mark.”

“If we can get the name of the manufacturer,” Tomasetti says, “we might be able to locate the retailer.”

“And maybe the customer.” I think about that a moment. “Can you take some photos of the ring and e-mail them to me?”

“Absolutely.” As if saving the best news for last, he reaches into the envelope and pulls out a large white envelope. “This is probably the most remarkable item we found. The metal detector picked it up. I believe it could be extremely helpful in terms of identifying the decedent.”

He opens the envelope flap. I look inside and see a dirt-caked piece of steel about half an inch wide and four inches in length. Several screws protrude from one end. At first glance, I think he’s showing me the hasp from the barn door, but I know it must be more important than that. “What is it?”

“I believe it’s an orthopedic implant. A plate, to be more precise. Probably titanium. Judging from the size, possibly for the forearm—the radius or ulna. As you can see, some of the screws are still intact. We also found some additional screws scattered about.”

“So at some point this individual broke his arm?” Tomasetti says.

“That would be my guess.”

I think about that a moment. “Do those kinds of implants have any sort of identifying number?”