She frowned. “This may come as a surprise to you, but it takes more than thirty minutes to figure that out. I need more time, Nick—and I want to take a look at that second skeleton. There’s probably more we can learn from the first one, but I doubt it’s going to be a slam dunk. These are old bones—there’s only so much we’re going to get from them. The second skeleton might tell us more—and so would any others that are out there. Every one we can find will give us a little more to work with.”

“Agreed. I want to get a look at that other skeleton too. The first one’s pretty much a write-off for me—they removed all the dirt from around the body. I want to set up a sieve next to the second grave and sift the dirt a layer at a time.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Insect parts and puparia—the little casings that maturing insects leave behind.”

“Tell me the truth: Can you really tell one fly from another?”

“Can you really tell a male skull from a female skull?”

“Of course—male skulls are solid.”

“Funny.”

Nick looked out at the dog and its trainer again, scurrying back and forth across the field in their matching orange vests; there were now two small red flags planted in the ground and fluttering in the breeze. “We’ve got to get back to work,” he said, “and neither one of us can do that until Marge and Bosco wrap things up out there. Look at that— two lousy flags—that’s all they’ve got to show for a whole day’s sniffing around—and I’ll bet you twenty bucks that when we excavate those sites there’s nothing down there.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like that dog,” Kegan said.

“I dislike animals that dress better than I do.”

“Well, I feel sorry for them both.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It reminds me of the World Trade Center. Remember? You were there—there were dog teams everywhere. They were the kind that search for survivors—only there weren’t any survivors. By the end the dogs were all getting depressed, so the firemen started hiding in the rubble just so the dogs had someone to find.”

Nick looked at her. “How do women do that?”

“Do what?”

“Manage to feel sympathy for someone who doesn’t deserve it. I just can’t do that.”

“Really? I feel sorry for you.”

Fifteen minutes went by.

Kegan looked at Nick and smiled. “This makes you crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It drives me absolutely bonkers.”

“I think it’s good for you—you could use more patience.”

“That’s another thing women do,” Nick said.

“What?”

“Take pleasure in a man’s pain because it’s ‘for his own good.’”