'Glad you're in country, Tempe,' said Larke, also crushing my fingers in his grip. I was rethinking this whole handshake business.

Larke's 'in country' idiom was Vietnam-era military, his dialect pure Carolina. Born in the low country, Larke grew up in a Marine Corps family, then did two hitches of his own before heading off to medical school. He spoke and looked like a spit-and-polish version of Andy Griffith.

'When do you head north?'

'Next week is fal break,' I responded.

Larke's eyes narrowed as he did another sweep of the site.

'I'm afraid Quebec may have to do without its anthropologist this autumn.'

A decade back I'd participated in a faculty exchange with McGil University. While in Montreal I'd begun consulting to the Laboratoire de Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale, Quebec's central crime and medico-legal lab. At the end of my year, recognizing the need for a staff forensic anthropologist, the provincial government had funded a position, equipped a lab, and signed me up on a permanent consultant basis.

I'd been commuting between Quebec and North Carolina, teaching physical anthropology at UNC-Charlotte and consulting to the two jurisdictions, ever since. Because my cases usualy involved the less-than-recent dead, this arrangement had worked wel. But there was an understanding on both ends that I would be immediately available for court testimony and in crisis situations.

An aviation disaster definitely qualified as a crisis situation. I assured Larke that I would cancel my October trip to Montreal.

'How did you get here so quickly?'

Again I explained my trip to Knoxvile and the phone conversation with the DMORT leader.

'I've already talked to Earl. He'l deploy a team up here tomorrow morning.' Larke looked at Crowe. 'The NTSB boys wil be roling in tonight. Until then everything stays put.'

'I've given that order,' Crowe said. 'This location is pretty inaccessible, but I'l post extra security. Animals wil probably be the biggest problem. Especialy when these bodies start to go.'

The lieutenant governor made an odd sound, spun, and lurched off. I watched him brace against a mountain laurel, bend, and vomit.

Larke fixed us with a sincere Sheriff of Mayberry gaze, shifting his eyes from Crowe to me.

'You ladies are making a very difficult job infinitely easier. Words can't express how much I appreciate your professionalism.'

Shift.

'Sheriff, you keep things squared away here.'

Shift.

'Tempe, you go on and give your lecture in Knoxvile. Then pick up whatever supplies you'l need and report back tomorrow. You're going to be here awhile, so inform the university. We'l secure a bunk for you.'

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