He’d been in the lab for ten hours on Tuesday. It was nearly quitting time now and he was testy. Edgy. Hadn’t felt right about returning to New Orleans despite Kristi’s insistence the night before. She hadn’t listened to any of his arguments, wouldn’t consider living in his aunt’s bungalow or even keeping his dog. She’d moved back to her apartment against all his protests. He was in constant contact with her, either by phone, text or e-mail, and so far she was all right.

So far.

So how will you feel if something happens to her?

He tried not to immediately go to the worst case scenario, but it was always there, looming in the background of his brain, ready to pounce on his consciousness again. He had to quit worrying about Kristi. As she’d told him time and time again, she was an adult. Could take care of herself. She swore that the idea her would-be videotaper might try to access her apartment didn’t bother her. Said she almost welcomed it.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, focusing again on a discoloration between the elbow and wrist.

“You talkin’ to me?” Bonita Washington asked as she walked into the lab area, eyeing the microscopes and careful not to touch the gas chromatograph.

“Talking to myself, I guess,” he said, rolling his chair back.

“Notice anything unusual about that arm?” She pointed to the picture lying on his work area.

“It’s missing a body.”

“Smart ass. Anything else?”

“Her fingernail polish doesn’t go with her lipstick, oh, wait—”

Washington, usually stoic or grim, actually cracked a smile. “I was talking ’bout this,” she said, stabbing a finger at a spot of skin in the lower arm. “What’s it look like to you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How about freezer burn?”

Jay looked again.

“Like when you put chicken in the freezer and the package isn’t sealed, or even if it is, if it’s been in there a good, long time?”

He rolled his chair back to the desk area and, using his microscope, studied the blemish on the arm. “You think the arm…no, the body was frozen before being dumped into the swamp.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So our perp doesn’t keep them alive,” he thought aloud. His hope that they would find the missing coeds alive took a direct hit.

“Don’t know what he does to them, but at one point, I’d be willing to bet my new Porsche that this woman was frozen.”

“I thought you drove a Pontiac.”

“So far. But if I had a Porsche I’d make the bet.” She nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Couldn’t take a chance on losing the Grand Am.”