“And I thought my job was hard.” Her eyes were on mine as she took a chair and moved it directly across from me. “I know you have to do this all the time, but I guess I’ve never really heard it. It’s not that I don’t talk to families all the time, but thankfully it’s not my job to tell them exactly what inhaling smoke did to their loved one’s trachea or lungs.”

“It’s the hardest part,” I said simply, and the weight inside me would not go away.

“I guess you’re the messenger they want to kill.”

“Not always,” I said, and I knew that in the solitude of my raw inner self, I would hear the Quinns’ accusing, harsh words replay for the rest of my days.

There were so many voices now, screams and prayers of rage and pain and sometimes blame, because I had dared to touch the wounds, and because I would listen. I did not want to talk about this with McGovern. I did not want her to get any closer to me.

“I’ve got one more phone call to make,” I said. “So if you want to get coffee? Or just relax for a minute. I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I find out.”

I called the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, and although it was not quite nine, the registrar was in. He was excruciatingly polite but not at all helpful.

“I completely understand why you’re calling and promise that we very much want to help,” he was saying. “But not without a court order. We can’t simply decide to release personal information about any of our students. Certainly not over the phone.”

“Mr. Shedd, we’re talking about a homicide,” I reminded him as impatience tugged at me.

“I understand,” he said again.

This went on and got me nowhere. Finally I gave up and got off the line. I was dejected when I returned my attention to McGovern.

“They’re just covering their asses in case the family tries to come after them later,” McGovern told me what I already knew. “They need us to give them no choice, so I guess that’s what we’ll do.”

“Right,” I dully said. “So what brings you here?” I asked.

“I understand the lab results are in, or at least some of them. I called late Friday,” she said.

“News to me.”

I was irked. If the trace evidence examiner had called McGovern before me, I was going to be really hot. I picked up the phone and called Mary Chan, a young examiner who was new with the labs.

“Good morning,” I said. “I understand you have some reports for me?”

“I was just getting ready to bring them downstairs.”

“These are the ones you’ve sent to ATF.”

“Yes. The same ones. I can fax them or bring them in person.”