'I have a tooth fragment I want profiled for DNA. Then I want that profile compared to one you've done on a bone sample from the Air TransSouth crash. Can you do that?

'

'I don't see why not.'

'How soon?'

'Is this urgent?'

'Very.'

'I'l put it on a fast track. When can you get the new sample to me?'

I looked at my watch.

'Two o'clock.'

'I'l cal over to the DNA section right now, smooth the way. See you at two.'

I turned the key and swung into traffic. There were a couple more things I needed to do before leaving Bryson City.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

This time the Lilac Dragon was by herself.

'Just need to check a couple of details on microfilm,' I said, beaming my most winning smile.

Her face did a ménage à trois of emotions. Surprised. Suspicious. Stern.

'It would be very, very helpful if I could take several reels at a time. You were so kind about that yesterday.'

Her face softened somewhat. Sighing loudly, she went to the cabinet, removed six boxes, and placed them on the counter.

'Thank you so much,' I purred.

Crossing toward the overflow room, I heard a stool squeak, and knew she was craning in my direction.

'Celular phones are strictly prohibited in the library!' she hissed to my retreating back.

Unlike my prior visit, I whipped through the spools, taking notes on specific items.

In less than an hour I had what I needed.

===OO=OOO=OO===

Tommy Albright was not in, but a drawly female voice promised to deliver my message. The pathologist rang back before I'd hit the outskirts of Bryson City.

'In 1959 a Cherokee named Charlie Wayne Tramper died in a bear attack. Would a file that old stil exist?'

'Maybe, maybe not. That was before we centralized. What do you need to know?'

'You remember the case?' I couldn't believe it.

'Hel, yes. I poked through what was left of that ole boy.'

'Which was?'

'I've seen my share of bear bait, but Tramper was the worst. Those little bastards tore the bejeezus out of him. Carried his head clean off.'

'The skul was not recovered?'

'No.'

'How did you ID him?'

'Wife recognized the rifle and clothing.'

===OO=OOO=OO===

I found the Reverend Luke Bowman gathering falen branches in his shadowy front yard. Save for the substitution of a black windbreaker, he was dressed exactly as on our previous meetings.

Bowman watched me pul next to his pickup, added his armful to a pile beside the drive, and approached my car. We spoke through the open window.

'Good morning, Miss Temperance.'

'Good morning. Beautiful day for yard work.'

'Yes, ma'am, it is.' Fragments of bark and dry leaves clung to his jacket.

'Could I ask you something, Reverend Mr. Bowman?'

'Of course.'