Vipers could kil Heathens, and Outlaws murder Bandidos. Or Pagans. Or Hel s Angels. But they must not kil the innocent. I pledged to myself that I would apply every forensic skil I could muster, and however many hours I was able, to develop evidence to identify and convict these homicidal sociopaths. Children had a right to walk the streets of the city without being cut down by bul ets.

I transferred the sorted remains back to the gurneys, rol ed them to refrigerated compartments, scrubbed, and changed to street clothes. Then I rode the elevator to search out my boss.

"I want to work this," I said, my voice calm and steady. "I want to nail these bastard child kil ers."

The tired old eyes stared at me for what seemed a very long time. We'd been discussing Emily Anne Toussaint. And the other youngster. A boy.

Olivier Fontaine had been on his way to hockey practice when he pedaled too close to a Jeep Cherokee just as the driver turned the key. The bomb exploded with enough force to blast shrapnel into Olivier's body, kil ing him instantly. It happened on his twelfth birthday, Until seeing Emily Anne I'd forgotten about the Fontaine murder. That incident had taken place in December of 1995 on the West Island, and involved the Hel s Angels and the Rock Machine. Olivier's death had raised a cry of public outrage, which led to the creation of Operation Carcajou, the multiagency task force devoted to the investigation of biker crime.

"Temperance, I can't -- "

"I'l do whatever is needed. I'l work on my own time, between cases. If Carcajou is like everyone else they're probably shorthanded. I could do data entry or historic case searches. I could liaison among agencies, maybe work links to intel igence units in the U.S. I cou -- "

"Temperance, slow down." He held up a hand. "This is not something I am in a position to do. I wil speak with Monsieur Patineau."

Stephane Patineau was director of the LSJML. He made final decisions for the crime and medico-legal labs.

"I wil not let any involvement with Carcajou interfere with my normal duties."

"I know that. I promise I wil speak with the director first thing Monday morning. Now go home. Bonne fin de semaine."

I wished him a good weekend, too. Quebec winters end much differently from those in the Carolina Piedmont. Back home spring slips in gently, and by the end of March and the beginning of April flowers begin to bloom and the air is soft with the warmth of summertime emerging.

Les quebeois wait six weeks longer to plant their gardens and window boxes. Much of April is cool and gray, and the streets and sidewalks glisten with melted ice and snow. But when spring appears it does so with breathtaking showmanship. The season explodes, and the populace responds with an enthusiasm unmatched on the planet.