“Let’s keep at it.” Ryan’s eyes were blue as the Atlantic and steady on mine. “You and me.”

“Do you mean that, Ryan?”

“I do.”

I kissed him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pressed my cheek to his.

Pul ing free, I wiped sand from his forehead and settled back to my reading, eager to find a place to begin.

Ryan took Boyd for a run on the beach.

That night we ate shrimp and crab on the docks at Shem Creek. We walked in the surf, made love, then fel asleep listening to Ryan’s eternal ocean.

From the Forensic Files

of Dr. Kathy Reichs

For legal and ethical reasons I cannot discuss any of the real-life cases that may have inspiredBare Bones,but I can share with you some experiences that contributed to the plot.

Monsieur Orignal

Shakespeare spoke of “murder most foul” (Hamlet,1.5), but not al forensic anthropology cases are the result of violence.

A variety of bones find their way to my lab: trophy skul s smuggled from foreign lands; teaching skeletons spirited from classrooms to fraternity houses; Confederate soldiers buried in unmarked graves; pets laid to rest in backyards or crawl spaces.

It happens al the time. Bones or body parts are discovered. Local authorities, unfamiliar with anatomy, send them to the coroner or medical examiner.

Occasional y the “vic” turns out to be a reptile or bird, but most are members of the class Mammalia.I’ve examined spareribs, deer metapodia, ham bones, and elk horns. I’ve gotten kittens in gunnysacks and wood rats mixed in with murder victims. Bear paws, which particularly resemble human hands and feet, also sometimes show up at my lab.

The skeletal remains that found their way intoBare Bonesactual y entered my life during a blizzard in Montreal on a Thursday in November 1997. Driving as a Southerner versed in snowfal panic, edging my speed up to thirty only in the tunnel, I arrived late to the lab and thus missed the morning meeting at which the day’s cases had been discussed and assigned. One document lay on my desk, a Demande d’Expertise en Anthropologie.

Wasting no time, I skimmed for critical information: case number, morgue number, coroner, pathologist. I was being asked to examine cut marks on leg and pelvic bones to determine the type of saw used for dismemberment. The summary of known facts included one French word unfamiliar to me:orignal.Guilty over my tardiness, I headed straight for the bones, opting for a vocabulary check at a later time.

Throwing on a lab coat, I crossed to the counter reserved for new cases. When I unzipped the pouch, my jaw dropped. Either this victim had a colossal pituitary disorder, or I was looking at Goliath himself.

About-face. Dictionary.

Orignal: élan, n. m. Au Canada on l’appel e orignal.

My dismemberment victim was a moose.