Ruby's ceramic figurine of Orphan Annie lay at the bottom of the tub, her face smashed, her limbs shattered. Sandy dangled from the showerhead, a makeshift noose tight around his neck.

Again, my mind flew, my hands trembled. This message had nothing to do with money. Someone clearly didn't care for me.

Suddenly, I remembered the Volvo. Was that episode a threat? Was this intrusion another? I fought the impulse to run down the hal to Ryan's room.

I considered the lockless doors and thought about bringing Boyd inside. Then who would be threatened?

An hour later, lying in bed and somewhat more logical, I reflected on the strength of my reaction to the invasion of my space. Had it been anger or fear that had sent me over the edge? At whom should I be angry? What should I fear?

Sleep did not come easily.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When I came downstairs next morning, Ryan was questioning Ruby about my intruder. Byron McMahon sat across from him, dividing his attention between the interrogation and a trio of fried eggs.

Ruby had one comment.

'Satan's minions are among us.'

I was annoyed by her nonchalance toward the rifling of my possessions, but let it go.

'Was anything taken?' asked McMahon. Good. The FBI was on my case.

'I don't think so.'

'Been irritating someone?'

'I suspect my dog has. Dogs bark.' I described what had been done to Annie and Sandy.

Ryan looked at me oddly but said nothing.

'This place isn't exactly Los Alamos. Anyone could walk in and out of here.' McMahon forked up fried potatoes. 'What else have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you around.'

I told him about the foot and the courtyard house, ending with the VFA profile I'd gotten the day before. I did not tel him about my current status in the crash investigation, but left that gap for him to fil. As I spoke, his grin slowly dissolved.

'So Crowe is going for a warrant?' he asked, cop cool.

I was about to answer when my cel phone sounded the William Tell Overture. The men looked at each other as I clicked it on.

The cal was from Laslo Sparkes at Oak Ridge. I listened, thanked him, and rang off.

'Rossini caling?' Ryan asked.

'I was testing the ring options and forgot to change it back.' I jabbed my egg and yolk spurted onto the table. 'I wouldn't have pegged you as an opera buff.'

'Zinger.' McMahon reached for a slice of toast.

'It was the anthropologist at Oak Ridge.'

'Let me guess. He's profiled the soup, and the missing body is D. B. Cooper.'

Ryan was on a rol. Ignoring him, I directed my response to McMahon.

'He found something while filtering the remaining soil.'

'What's that?'