She tossed the snake scarf over her shoulder. “So why didn’t I spot it initially? Because it was on the roof of the vaginal vault, kind of tucked away. A smallish but rather nasty snag wound consistent with insertion of a hard object—no jokes, please. Something with a pointed extension on the upper surface. My guess, confirmed by my tool-mark analyst, is the barrel of a handgun with a sharp sight. Initially, I assumed a .22 because of Backer. But after checking barrel lengths, I can’t see any .22 entering that deeply without inflicting serious external damage to the labia. So we’re leaning toward a larger-caliber revolver with a longer barrel and a prominent sight, such as a Charter Arms Bulldog. In fact, we tried out a Bulldog and it fit quite nicely with the abrasion.”

“Two guns,” said Milo. “Little one for shooting, big one for raping.”

“To me, Lieutenant, that smells of intimidation, rage, or maybe just plain sadism. And, of course, now you need to consider two offenders. Do you concur, Dr. Delaware?”

“Makes sense.”

“Then we’re all on the same page.” Jernigan checked her watch. “Needless to say, my initial hypothesis will not appear in the report and I’d appreciate if the same goes for yours.”

“Absolutely, Doctor.”

“Just to reassure you, I took another look at Mr. Backer as well. Examined his anus and his mouth for any sign of assault by firearm or anything else. Pristine on all counts, so whatever additional psychopathology was at play seems to have been reserved for Ms. Fredd with two d’s. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

“How’s it going on Bobby Escobar?”

“So far, Lieutenant, it’s going nowhere.” Angry smile. “Are you volunteering your services? That deal still stands.”

“I don’t think the Sheriff’s would appreciate my meddling, Doc.”

“No doubt,” said Jernigan. “Then again, things get bad enough, everyone wants a bailout.”

When she was gone, he said, “When she admitted goofing, I was expecting something about the vanished sperm stain.”

I said, “Maybe there’s just so much she can own up to.”

“Gun rape,” he said. “Two offenders or a single dominant blitz artist who managed to cow Backer and Doreen all by himself.”

“Someone with big bucks could afford to hire a team.”

“Teddy and/or the sultan dispatched a hit squad.” He pressed his palms together, looked up at the sky. “What did I do to offend you, Herr Kafka?”

Sean Binchy showed up at Milo’s office brandishing a list of felons culled from Beaudry Construction’s subcontractor list.

Nine names, no Montes or close. Binchy had run down seven of the miscreants, ruled them out, was headed to Lancaster to check out the last two—a pair of cement-worker brothers arrested for stealing tools from a previous job.

Milo said, “How’s Ricki Flatt doing?”

“Got her set up in the Star Inn, paid for full cable, all the movie channels.”