“But that doesn’t explain the markings I found on some of the bones,” Harris tells me. “Nor does it explain why so many of the smaller bones are missing.”

“Markings?” Puzzled, sensing they’re withholding the punch line to a private joke and I’m being left in the dark, I look from man to man. “Signs of trauma? What?”

“Well, basically, both hands and feet are missing,” Doc Coblentz says.

I’ve heard of cases—homicides—in which killers removed the hands of their victims so the police were unable to identify the victims using fingerprints, but I didn’t expect it on this case. “So we’re dealing with a homicide,” I say slowly.

“Probably, but we can’t say for certain,” Harris says.

“But if the hands were cut off—” I begin.

Coblentz interrupts. “Not cut off, Kate. Chewed off.”

“Chewed?” It’s the last thing I expected him to say, and for the first time I understand why they’re so titillated. Not because they’re macabre, but because their scientific minds have been confronted by a particularly challenging puzzle.

“By what?” I ask.

“We don’t know,” Doc Coblentz admits. “We’re trying to identify the tooth marks now.”

“Tooth marks? Seriously?” Incredulity rings hard in my voice. If the circumstances were different—if we weren’t dealing with the death of a human being—I’d expect one of them to burst into laughter and shout, “Surprise!”

“Let me explain.” With gloved hands, Harris picks up a bone that’s slender and curved and about a foot in length. “This is the left proximal ulna, which is at the distal end of the forearm.”

“Small bone in the lower forearm,” Doc Coblentz explains.

“It’s not unusual in cases like this for skeletal remains to exhibit postmortem carnivore and scavenger marks. In Ohio, for example, we would probably be dealing with coyotes or dogs or even a feral cat. The bones would show evidence of chewing, crushing, and gnawing. Sometimes the ends of long bones are missing altogether, which happens when the animals are trying to get to the marrow. This typically occurs if a body is dumped in a remote location and it remains undiscovered for an extended period of time.”

Looking troubled, Harris indicates a long, narrow, carved indentation on the bone. “I can’t be certain, but I don’t believe these gouges were made by dogs or coyotes.”

“By what, then?” I ask.

“We don’t know,” Doc Coblentz replies.

I think about that a moment, chilled by the possibilities. “Were you or will you be able to give me cause or manner of death?”

“Undetermined at this point,” Harris says with a shrug.

“I’m not sure we’ll ever know for certain, Kate,” Doc Coblentz adds.