Al that was finished now. With the exception of a single pair, the rooms that had once swarmed with grieving relatives, NTSB personnel, medical examiner interviewers, and Red Cross representatives had reverted to their original function.

Security was also not what it had been. Puling into the lot, I was surprised to see journalists chatting and drinking from Styrofoam cups, obviously awaiting a breaking story.

Security was also not what it had been. Puling into the lot, I was surprised to see journalists chatting and drinking from Styrofoam cups, obviously awaiting a breaking story.

So intent was I on a timely arrival, it never crossed my mind that the story was me.

Then, a cameraman shouldered his minicam.

'There she is.'

Other cameras went up. Microphones shot out, and shutters clicked like gravel in a power mower.

'Why did you move remains?'

'Did you tamper with disaster victim packets?'

'Dr. Brennan ...'

'Is it true that evidence is missing from cases you processed?'

'Doctor…'

Strobes flashed in my face. Microphones nudged my chin, my forehead, my chest. Bodies pressed against me, moved with me, like a tangle of seaweed clinging to my limbs.

I kept my eyes straight, acknowledging no one. My heart hammered as I pushed forward, a swimmer struggling toward shore. The distance to the motel seemed oceanic, insurmountable.

Then, I felt a strong hand on my arm, and I was in the lobby. A state trooper was locking the glass doors, glaring at the mob outside.

'You al right, ma'am?'

I didn't trust my voice to reply.

'This way, please.'

I folowed to a bank of elevators. The trooper waited with hands clasped, feet spread as we ascended. I stood on rubbery legs, trying to recompose my thoughts.

'How did the press find out about this?' I asked.

'I wouldn't know that, ma'am.'

On the second floor, the trooper walked to Room 201, squared his shoulders to the wal beside the door.

'It's not locked.' He fixed his eyes on something that was not me.

Drawing two steadying breaths, I turned the knob and entered.

Seated behind a desk on the far side of the room was North Carolina's second in command. Of a zilion thoughts winging through my mind at that moment, this is the one I remember: Parker Davenport's color had improved since I'd seen him on the day of the crash.

To the lieutenant governor's left sat Dr. Larke Tyrel, to his right, Earl Bliss. The ME looked at me and nodded. The DMORT commander's eyes wouldn't meet mine.

'Dr. Brennan, please have a seat.' The lieutenant governor gestured to an armchair directly in front of the desk.