The I-485 creek-bed skull was covered with moss and missing its entire face and most of the base. Copper staining, remnants of adipocere, tissue turned crumbly and waxy due to the hydrolysis of fats, and the presence of a shriveled mass of petrified brain told me I was probably looking at an old coffin burial. Without more contextual information, there was little I could say.

I was jotting a request to Hawkins for information about cemeteries in the vicinity of the creek bed, when my iPhone rang.

Katy.

I clicked on.

“Hey, babe. What are you up to?”

“Working late.” Her tone suggested a need to vent. “As usual.”

“Same here. Anything interesting?”

“Mind-blowing. I can hardly stay in my chair.”

“Oh?” I ignored the heavy sarcasm.

“Some guy’s in the running for most flagrant tax-fraud artist of the year. I get to plow through boxes and boxes of his papers.”

“Getting any good ideas?”

“With my salary? What would be the point of tax evasion?”

“Will you finish tonight?”

“I won’t finish until I’m ready for Medicare—one of the few systems this creep didn’t scam. Here’s a good one. He’d buy first-class airline tickets, then turn them in for a full refund and buy coach. But he’d submit the first-class receipts for tax purposes.”

“Not all that original.”

“OK. How about this one? He set up some sort of tax-free bank accounts for his kids’ education. But before they went to college, he drew out all the money. And never told Uncle Sam.”

“Isn’t the IRS able to track that sort of thing?”

“I’m probably missing something. It was complicated. And just one of the many cons el creepo got away with for years.”

I heard an intake of breath. Assuming Katy had more to say, I waited.

“Um. Have you talked to Ryan lately?”

“He’s pretty tied up with Lily.”

“How is she?”

“Eh.”

“How about Charlie Hunt?”

“He’s busy composing the world’s most brilliant closing argument.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then she blurted, “I think he’s seeing this other lawyer in the office. They work late a lot. Together. And they just left. Together. All chatty and smiley.”

I felt a cool fizz in my chest.

“That’s fine. Charlie and I have no commitment to each other.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“No.”

A little beep told me another caller was trying to get through.

“Gotta go, sweetie.”

“Come by my cubicle sometime. Reach in and take my pulse.”

I was still chuckling when I clicked over to call waiting.

The sobs put a choke hold on my mirth.

“Tempe, I do hope it’s OK to call you.” Tremulous. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”

“I’m at the ME office, Summer.”

“I am super, super sorry. You have such a kind nature, and I fear I am abusing it.”