Doc Coblentz finishes his call. “Hi, Kate.” His eyes flick to his colleague. “All I have to do is tell him we’ve found bones, and he drops everything and shows up.”

“We went to med school together,” Harris tells me.

“Back when dinosaurs ruled the earth,” Doc adds.

“And we were more interested in poisoning ourselves with good Mexican tequila than dissecting cadavers.”

“We killed a lot of brain cells in our early years,” Coblentz says with a laugh. “In any case, Kate, John has been coroner up in Lucas County for…” He looks at Harris. “… Twenty-two years now?”

Harris nods. “Twenty-three next month.”

“Good God, we’re getting old.” Coblentz shakes his head. “His subspecialty, however, is forensic osteology.”

“The study of bones,” I say. “I’ve been reading up on it.”

Harris grins. “In other words, I didn’t drive all the way down to Painters Mill to have a drink with an old friend.”

“Although we may somehow work that in to our schedules,” Coblentz adds.

I’ve known Doc Coblentz for about four years now, and this is a side of him I’ve not seen. More often than not he’s cranky and grim and not always pleasant to be around. In light of his profession, I’m heartened to see this lighter aspect of his personality.

Doc Coblentz motions to his office door. “Shall we?”

We start down the hall, stopping at the alcove where packaged biohazard protection supplies are stored. As we enter, I notice Carmen has set out three sets of protective gear for us. The plastic wrappers crackle as we extract paper gowns, shoe covers, and hair caps. Once we’re suited up, Doc Coblentz hands me a pair of latex gloves and motions toward the autopsy room. “I think you know the way.”

The autopsy room is about twenty feet square with gray ceramic tile walls and the acoustics of a cave. Despite the cleanliness of the place and a state-of-the-art HVAC system, the first thing I notice upon entering is the lingering smell of death and the equally unpleasant odor of formalin. Fluorescent light illuminates gleaming stainless steel counters. The backsplash is lined with a multitude of small buckets, plastic containers, and assorted apothecary-type jars. Butted against the far wall are two double sinks with arcing faucets. Higher, glass cabinets with stainless steel shelves are organized with bottles and instruments and other tools of the trade. A scale hangs down to about eye level, and I can’t help but notice it’s disturbingly similar to the kind used at the local grocery store.