“There was a choice?” said Guzman. He took another look. “Man.”

Reed said, “You can go, now.”

Guzman said, “Sure,” but he lingered. Reed prompted his exit by pointing at the yellow tape.

Guzman said, “Sure, sure,” took a step, stopped. “I’ll never forget this. We just had one.”

“One what, sir?”

“Baby.” The word came out strangled. “George Junior. We waited a long time for him.”

“Congratulations,” said Milo.

Guzman looked at him.

Reed said, “This is my boss, Lieutenant Sturgis. Sir, Mr. Guzman is our first arriver. He called it in.”

Guzman said, “I’m always here first. Since we started the job, I mean.”

“What’s the job?” said Milo.

“Making sure water doesn’t collect and ruin the roots of all those trees.” Guzman pointed. “We need to check out the entire area, taking samples of what’s below, then if we need drains, we put ’em in. Few years ago it was done wrong, flooded the archery field.”

“It’s your job to get here before anyone else?”

“No, no, not officially,” said Guzman, “but that’s what happens, I make it at seven ten, fifteen, the other guys not till seven thirty. ’Cause I take my wife to work, she waitresses at Junior’s on Westwood. I drop her off, she gives me coffee, I drive a couple minutes and I’m here.”

Guzman’s eyes drifted back to the bones. “I thought it was a squirrel or something. Dead animals, we see plenty of that. Then I got close and …” He blinked. “It’s definitely human?”

Everyone turned to Liz Wilkinson. She said, “Unfortunately.”

“Damn,” said Guzman, biting his lip. His eyes misted.

Milo said, “Appreciate your help, sir. Have a nice day.”

His prompt was more directive than Reed’s, a nudge to Guzman’s elbow that got the giant in motion. Guzman plodded toward the tape, ducked under with effort, walked several yards, and joined another group of orange-vests hanging near a yellow city truck. The group stayed there, listening as Guzman regaled them.

Milo said, “There’s one who likes attention. You pick up anything about him that fills your nostrils, Moses?”

“Kind of a crybaby,” said Reed, “but nothing overtly creepy.”

“Run him through, anyway.”

“Already done, boss. Clean.”

“Good work, kid, that’s why you get the big bucks. Any anthropological impressions, Liz?”

Wilkinson said, “By its size, this child might be younger than the first. The teeth will help me judge but I haven’t inspected them because the way the skull’s positioned the mouth is in the dirt.”

“We’ll get you access soon as the C.I. okays it.” To Reed: “Any word from the crypt?”

“Held up in traffic. Best guess is within the hour.”

“What about Crime Scene?”

“They should’ve been here already.”

Milo turned to Liz. “You were notified by the crypt crew?”

She smiled. “By Moe.”

Reed fidgeted.

Milo laughed. “Anything for a date, Detective Reed?”