Crowe looked at me strangely.

'Car could be on its way to Saudi Arabia by now,' said Albright.

'I told you that the victim was helping me with my investigation.'

'I'l want to talk to you about that.' Crowe.

'Find anything here?' I asked.

'We're stil looking.'

'Tire tracks? Footprints?' I knew it was stupid as soon as I said it. The rain would have obliterated such impressions.

Crowe shook her head.

I scanned the pickups and SUVs left behind by fishermen and pleasure boaters. Two sixteen-foot aluminum outboards bobbed in their slips.

'Any permanent tie-ups at the marina?'

'It's strictly a rental business.'

'That means a lot of people coming and going every day. Pretty busy spot for a body dump.'

'Rentals are due back by eight P.M. Apparently things quiet down after that.'

I indicated the couple with the putty faces. They were alone on the dock now, hands in their pockets, unsure what they were supposed to do next.

'Are those the owners?'

'Glenn and Irene Boynton. They say they're here every night until eleven, return around six in the morning. They live up the road.'

Crowe indicated the dirt track.

'They claim to notice cars at night. Worry about kids messing with their boats. Neither one heard or saw a thing over the past three days. For what that's worth. A perp wouldn't exactly advertise that he was using your dock to off-load a corpse.'

The celery eyes appraised the scene, came back to me.

'But you're right. This would be an odd choice. There's a smal road kisses the shore about a half mile up from here. We're thinking that was the toss-in point.'

'Two, three days seems a little long for the currents to carry her here,' added Albright. 'Body may have deadheaded awhile.'

'Deadheaded?' I snapped, furious at his calousness.

'Sorry. Old logging term. Refers to snagged timber.'

I was almost afraid to ask the next question.

'Was she sexualy assaulted?'

'Clothing's on, underwear's in place. I'l test for semen, but I doubt it.'

We stood silent in the gathering dusk. Behind us, the docks creaked and settled against the waves. A cold breeze blew off the water, carrying the scent of fish and gasoline.

'Why would someone garrote an old lady?' Though I spoke aloud, the question was realy for me, not my companions.

'Why do these sick bastards do any of the things they do?' Albright replied.

I left them and walked toward Ryan's car. The ambulance and wrecker were gone, but the cruisers remained, pulsing blue light across the muddy lot. I sat a moment, staring at the hundreds of prints left by the feet of ambulance attendants, wrecker operators, police, the pathologist, and myself. Primrose's last disaster scene.

I turned the key and headed back toward Bryson City, tears coursing down my cheeks.

===OO=OOO=OO===