Clearly she’s staying over, in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, barefoot, no bra, and I don’t like it when she’s in the downstairs guest room. I don’t want to say such a thing out loud but it’s true and probably means I’m a selfish person. I sincerely dislike having anyone in our house but there’s no choice now that Tesla is in the mix. She needs training, socializing, and she shouldn’t be left without human companionship for long periods of time.

I watch Page filling the dog bowls with filtered water she pours from a pitcher. A friend of Lucy and Janet’s, she’s imposing, her upper-body strength from competitive swimming impressive, almost unbelievable for a female. It’s entered my mind that she might take steroids because I can’t quite believe her bulk is solely from long hours in the gym or some earlier stint in the Navy when she was accepted into the Basic Underwater Demolition or BUD training program for SEALs.

Tall with curly dark hair, all brawn, Page is the gentle giant with dogs, kind but in control. She couldn’t be more thoughtful or attentive toward an aging greyhound rescued from the racetrack or an English-bulldog puppy once abused by children and abandoned.

“Who’s gonna potty and then get a beddy-bye treat?” Page asks Tesla and Sock.

I hear their nails click furiously as they run to the back door.

WALKING THROUGH AN AIR-CONDITIONED cloud of LED light, I pause in the galley with its coffeemaker, small refrigerator, microwave and laminated white countertops.

Tossing empty water bottles into the recyclable trash, I look around at the workstations, equipment cases, forensic instruments, and multidrawer cabinets of tools and other supplies. I make sure there’s nothing else I need for what I’m about to do. I don’t think there is. And Harold and Rusty know the drill. On my way here I gave them my scene case and other necessities. They will have everything set up under the tent by the time I get there, and everything will be as it should.

But I’m restless and my mood is tense, my thoughts burdened. When I think of the second time I encountered the woman who I now believe is dead and about to become my patient, she literally rode off into the sunset. I don’t know where she went after that or when she finally entered the park, but it was completely dark by seven thirty.

Supposing she was killed around that time, it means that for the better part of two hours her body has been left out in the middle of a public park surrounded by Harvard student housing and other populated buildings. In an ideal situation I would have gotten her out of here a good hour ago.