Forty yards past the trucks, an athletic-looking woman about my age is crouching on a log, shooting pictures through a long telephoto lens. The fleece jacket tied around her waist tells me she’s already learned that December in Natchez isn’t discernibly cooler than in New Orleans.

Parking beside Kirk’s truck, I notice a knot of men standing on the far side of the semi trucks. They seem to be studying a map.

“Penn!” cries a voice from my left, startling me. “You believe this shit?”

I turn and find Kirk Boisseau watching me with flushed cheeks and an excited smile. He’s wearing a wetsuit with a down jacket over it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I had to show them where I found the bones.”

“But how did you get here? I mean, how did they find you?”

He shrugs. “I figured you gave them my name.”

“I didn’t.”

Kirk shrugs again. “That Kaiser guy just called me out of the blue, late last night. He said the FBI needed my help, and they wanted to hire me as a diver. He’s a marine, too. Vietnam. What was I going to say?”

A tall, brown-haired man has detached himself from the group and is coming toward us. He’s carrying a neoprene bag in his hand.

“That’s him,” Kirk says quickly. “He brought a couple of FBI divers up with him, and they’re damned good. We’ve already brought up most of the bones.”

Kaiser has almost reached us.

“And those trucks?” I whisper.

“Pumps. King Kong shit, man.”

“Hello, Mayor,” says Kaiser, leaning forward and shaking my hand with a firm but not overzealous grip. “I see you and Kirk found each other.”

I nod and smile, trying to read him as well as I can before we get to anything that matters. John Kaiser looks younger than I imagined, but he has the wise eyes of a man who has seen much—maybe too much. His hair is longer than that of most FBI agents I know.

“Kirk,” he says, “do you mind if the mayor and I take a walk?”

“Nah. You guys do what you need to do. I’m gonna get some heat going in my truck.”

Kirk heads for his truck, but before we can move away, Caitlin gets out of the car and plants herself in our path. Even as I introduce her, Kaiser takes out his cell phone and calls his wife. Looking up the shoreline, I see the brunette stand and put a cell phone to her ear, then wave and start walking toward us.

Jordan Glass looks very well put together, but not in the way of models or pinup girls. She looks like the kind of woman who could easily run fifteen miles if her car broke down. As she nears us, I sense Caitlin vibrating like there’s a motor inside her.