“Pubescent white female,” Cooper said, brushing past us to the table and motioning the assistant away, “aged twelve, so I’m told. Height and weight both on the low side, but within normal limits. Scars indicating abdominal surgery, possibly an exploratory laparotomy, some time ago. No obvious pathology; as far as I can tell, she died healthy, if you’ll pardon the oxymoron.”

We clustered around the table like obedient students; our footsteps threw small flat echoes off the tiled walls. The assistant leaned against one of the sinks and folded his arms, chewing stolidly on a piece of gum. One arm of the Y incision still gaped open, dark and unthinkable, the needle stuck casually through a flap of skin for safekeeping.

“Any chance of DNA?” I asked.

“One step at a time, if you please,” Cooper said fussily. “Now. There were two blows to the head, both ante-mortem—before death,” he added sweetly to Sam, who nodded solemnly. “Both were struck with a hard, rough object with protrusions but no distinct edges, consistent with the rock Ms. Miller presented to me for inspection. One was a light blow to the back of the head, near the crown. It caused a small area of abrasion and some bleeding, but no cracks to the skull.” He turned Katy’s head to one side, to show us the little bump. They had cleaned the blood off her face, to check for any injuries underneath, but there were still faint swipes of it across her cheek.

“So maybe she dodged, or she was running away from him while he was swinging,” Cassie said.

We don’t have profilers. When we really need one we bring one over from England, but most of the time a lot of the Murder guys just use Cassie, on the In the Woods 85

dubious basis that she studied psychology at Trinity for three and a half years. We don’t tell O’Kelly this—he considers profilers to be one step up from psychics, and only grudgingly lets us listen even to the English guys—but I think she’s probably fairly good at it, although presumably this is for reasons unrelated to her years of Freud and lab rats. She always comes up with a couple of useful new angles, and usually turns out to be quite close to the mark. Cooper took his time thinking about it, to punish her for interrupting. Finally he shook his head judiciously. “I consider that unlikely. Had she been moving when this blow was struck, one would expect peripheral grazing, but there was none. The other blow, in contrast . . .” He tilted Katy’s head to the other side and hooked back her hair with one finger. On her left temple a patch of skin had been shaved to expose a wide, jagged laceration, splinters of bone poking out. Someone, Sam or Cassie, swallowed.

“As you see,” Cooper said, “the other blow was far more forceful. It landed just behind and above the left ear, causing a depressed skull fracture and a sizable subdural hematoma. Here and here”—he flicked his finger—