“It depends on how hungry they were and how much time they had. The jaw of the feral hog is certainly powerful enough to crush bone.”

An unexpected chill sweeps through me. I can’t think of a more unimaginably horrific manner of death than to be consumed alive by a large creature with jaws strong enough to crush bone.…

“In this instance, it looks like only the hands and feet were … consumed,” I say.

“Of course, we have no way of knowing, but if I were to speculate, perhaps the attack was interrupted. And domestic swine aren’t typically as aggressive as their cousins, the javelinas. That said, if domestic swine are left without food, they will certainly consume whatever food source becomes available in order to survive. In fact, there was a recent case in Oregon in which an elderly farmer went out to feed his hogs. When he didn’t return, his family went out to check on him. The only thing they found was his watch.”

*   *   *

The weight of Nelson Woodburn’s words follows me into the station. I’m unduly relieved there are no media present. It’s only when I notice my second-shift dispatcher at her workstation that I realize business hours have long since passed. Apparently, this story isn’t sensational enough for anyone to be setting up tents. Yet.

“Hey, Chief,” Jodie says cheerily.

“Hi.” I cross to her desk. “You up to doing some research for me?”

“Always.”

“Draft an e-mail to the Ohio Department of Agriculture. I need the names and contact information of every farmer in Holmes County who raised hogs from 1982 through 2005. Send it so they have it first thing in the morning. I’ll follow up with a call.”

She plucks a pen from her desk and jots my instructions. “I’ll get right on it.”

“I also need a list and contact info for all large-animal veterinarians in Holmes County who were practicing during that same time frame. Copy Lois and Mona on everything because I’m probably going to get them involved as well.”

“Sure.” Her brows knit, and she gives me a questioning look. “Is this related to those remains, or are you working on something else?”

“I’ll let you know the instant I find out.”

*   *   *

Once I’m behind my desk, I call Herb Strackbein, who tells me hogs have never been raised at the old barn on Gellerman Road. His father raised cattle years ago, but never had the proper fencing or facilities for hogs. I’ll double-check his claim in the morning once I’m able to get in contact with the Department of Agriculture. For now, I have no reason to believe he’s lying.