He waved the uniforms over. Both were young, male, clean-featured, with gym-rat swaggers. One was sandy-haired and freckled, the other had a dark buzz cut and suspicious brown eyes.

“You guys check for casings?”

Sandy said, “We did, sir, nothing.”

Milo did his own search, took his time but came up empty-handed. Careful shooter or a revolver.

The uniforms had returned to their original positions. He waved them back. “Who called it in?”

“Like we said, the jogger,” said Sandy. “A girl.”

“Where is she?”

Buzz said, “We got her information and let her go home. Here you go, sir.”

Milo took the paper. “Heather Goldfeder.”

Sandy said, “She lives just a few blocks away. With her parents.”

“We talking a minor?”

“Barely a major, sir. Eighteen last month, she was pretty traumatized.”

“Who made the judgment to let her go?”

The cops looked at each other. Buzz said, “Sir, it was a joint decision. She’s maybe five two, hundred pounds, so she’s obviously not the offender.”

Milo said, “Teeny toon.”

“Student at SMC, sir. She was really distraught.”

Milo said, “Thanks for the psychological profile.”

“Sir,” said Buzz, “she told us she runs here three times a week, never saw your victim before. Ever.”

Sandy said, “Sir, if we did something wrong by letting her go, we’re sorry. She was totally emotional, we made the judgment that babysitting her would distract our attention away from what needed to be done.”

“Which was?”

“Securing the scene, sir.”

Milo ushered me several yards away. “Everyone’s a damn therapist. So what does a real shrink have to say about this one being connected to the new bones?”

I said, “Two bodies in the park, same approximate time?”

He nodded. “So what do we have, Mommy and Baby?”

“If so, Baby died first. Days or weeks or months ago.”

“Maybe Mommy got blamed for that by Daddy?”

“That would be a good place to start.”

“On the other hand, if Daddy’s so devoted, why would he dump his kid’s bones?”

I thought about that. “We could be talking about someone with serious psychiatric issues—paranoia, an active delusional system that got kicked up by the baby’s death. That could also explain the bones being preserved. He elevated them to an object of worship—some sort of icon. It also fits with leaving them in the park on the night he killed the person he deems responsible. This is what she did, this is what I did to her.”

“Some nutter de-fleshing his own kid’s skeleton? What’s next, he walks into traffic with an AK?”

“Delusional doesn’t have to mean a raving lunatic,” I said. “There’s nothing disordered about the woman’s murder, so you could be dealing with someone who keeps it under wraps pretty well.”