'Doesn't he have better things to worry about?'

'Apparently you're a hot topic. My deputy took a cal this morning. Felow wanted to know where you live and where you were staying up here.'

'Who was he?'

'Wouldn't give a name, hung up when my deputy insisted.'

'Was he press?'

'We're pretty good at spotting that.'

'There's something you can do for me, Sheriff.'

I heard the sound of long-distance air.

'Sheriff?'

'I'm listening.'

I described the foot, and my reasons for doubting its association with the crash.

'Could you check on missing persons for Swain and the surrounding counties?'

'Got any descriptors besides age?'

'Sixty-three to sixty-six inches in height, with bad feet. When the DNA's in I'l know the gender.'

'Time frame?'

Despite the soft tissue preservation, I decided on broad parameters.

'One year.'

'I know we've got some here in Swain. I'l pul those up. And I suppose there's no harm in sending out a few queries.'

When we'd disconnected, I sealed the slide case and returned it to the technician. As I drove toward home new questions burned in my brain, fanned by feelings of anger and humiliation.

Why wasn't Larke Tyrel defending me? He knew the commitment I felt to my work, knew I'd never compromise an investigation.

Could Parker Davenport be Tyrel's 'powerful people'? Larke was an appointed official. Could the lieutenant governor be putting pressure on his chief medical examiner?

Why?

Could Lucy Crowe's reaction to Davenport be accurate? Was the lieutenant governor concerned with his image and planning to use me for publicity purposes?

I remembered him at the crash site, hanky to his mouth, eyes down to avoid the carnage.

Or was it me he was avoiding? An unpleasant feeling shifted inside me, and I tried to erase the image. It was no good. My mind was like a computer with no delete button.

I thought of Ryan's advice. Pete's. Both were saying the same thing.

I dialed Information, then placed a cal.

Ruby answered after two rings.

I identified myself and asked if Magnolia was available.

'The room's empty, but I offered it to one of the downstairs boarders.'

'I'd like to check back in.'

'They told me you were gone for good. Cleared the bil.'

'I'l pay you for a week in advance.'

'Must be the Lord's wil the other 'un hasn't moved up there yet.'

'Yes,' I answered, with an enthusiasm I didn't feel. 'The Lord's wil.'

CHAPTER TEN

Charlotte is a poster child for multiple personality disorder, the Sybil of cities. It is the New South, proud of its skyscrapers, airport, university, NBA Hornets, NFL Panthers, and NASCAR racing. Headquarters to Bank of America and First Union, it is the nation's second largest financial center. It is home to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. It yearns to be a world-class city