“This is a fucking nightmare,” the medical examiner was saying. “Jesus Christ.”

He ripped off his gloves and wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. He cast about, looking for a receptacle for biological hazards. Catching the eye of Denny Raines, he gave the paramedic a nod and the big, handsome guy came through with his stretcher and crew. Raines winked at West, drinking in the sexy sight of her in uniform. She was pretty unbelievable, and Hammer was hot, too. Brazil’s eyes fixed on Raines. Brazil got a strange feeling as he watched the overbuilt ambulance attendant eyeing West and Hammer. Brazil wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he was suddenly anxious and a little sick to his stomach. He wanted to get in Raines’s face, beg him to start something so Brazil could finish it, or at least order Raines to leave the scene.

“Well, it’s all yours now,” Dr. Odom went on to Hammer as stretcher legs clacked. “I’m not releasing a damn thing to the media. Never do. Any statement will have to come from you.”

“We’re not releasing his identity tonight.” Hammer was adamant. “Not until he’s been positively identified.”

There was no doubt in her mind. His driver’s license was on the floor of the Maxima, on the passenger’s side. Hammer recognized the senator’s imposing stature, the gray hair and goatee and heavy face. He hadn’t survived long enough to have tissue response to his horrendous injuries, no swelling or bruising. Butler did not look so different from when Hammer had seen him last, at a cocktail party in Myers Park. She was terribly upset and determined that it would not show. She approached Brazil. He was prowling around the car, taking notes.

“Andy,” she said, touching his arm. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how sensitive this is.”

He got still, looking at her as if she were the reason people went to church every Sunday. She was God. Hammer was distracted as her gaze wandered inside the car, to the black leather briefcase stamped with the gold initials K.O.B. It was in back, open, as were an overnight bag and a suit bag, everything dumped out. She made a silent inventory of keys, a calculator, USAir peanuts and tickets, a portable phone, pens, paper, address book, Tic Tacs, lubricated Trojan condoms, shoes, socks, and Jockey shorts, all scattered by hard, heartless hands.

“Are we sure it’s the senator?” Brazil managed to ask.

Hammer gave him her upset eyes again. “Not sure enough for you to release that yet.”

“Okay,” he said. “As long as you don’t give it out to someone else first.”

“Never. You do the right thing, so will I.” She said the usual. “Call me tomorrow at five P.M. I’ll give you a statement.”

She walked off. His eyes followed her as she left the crime scene and ducked under tape, walking briskly through the strobing blue and red night. Television crews, radio reporters, and mobs of reporters darted at her like barracuda. She waved them off and got into her chief’s car. Brazil prowled some more, disturbed in a way he did not understand as he got closer to where the senator had been killed. Raines and other paramedics were carrying the body to the ambulance, and the Ace twenty-four-hour towing and recovery truck was rolling in to haul the Maxima to the police department.