“Who the hell is this?” McGovern said, amazed. “Did he live with someone?”

“I don’t know,” I said, scooping more water out of the way.

“Can you tell if it’s a female?” McGovern said as she leaned closer to look, her flashlight still pointed.

“I wouldn’t want to swear to it in court until I can examine her more closely. But yes, I’m thinking female,” I answered.

I looked up at empty sky, imagining the bathroom the woman possibly had died in, and then got cameras out of my kit as cold water lapped around my feet. Pepper the arson dog and his handler had just filled a doorway, and Lucy and other agents were wading our way as word of our find hummed down the line. I thought of Sparkes, and nothing here made sense, except that a woman had been inside his home the night of the fire. I feared his remains might be somewhere in here, too.

Agents came nearer, and one of them brought me a body bag. I unfolded it and took more photographs. Flesh had cooked to glass and would have to be separated. This I would do in the morgue, and I instructed that any debris around the body would need to be sent in as well.

“I’m going to need some help,” I said to everyone. “Let’s get a backboard and some sheets in here, and someone needs to call whatever local funeral home is responsible for body removals. We’re going to need a van. Be careful, the glass is sharp. As she is, in situ. Face up, just like she is now, so we don’t put too much stress on the body and tear the skin. That’s good. Now open the bag more. As wide as we can get it.”

“It ain’t gonna fit.”

“Maybe we could break off more of the glass around the edges here,” McGovern suggested. “Somebody got a hammer?”

“No, no. Let’s just cover her as is.” I issued more commands, for I was in charge now. “Drape this over and around the edges to protect your hands. Everybody got their gloves on?”

“Yeah.”

“Those of you who aren’t helping here, there may be another body. So let’s keep looking.”

I was tense and irritable as I waited for two agents to return with a backboard and blue plasticized sheets to cover it.

“Okay,” I said. “We’re going to lift. On the count of three.”

Water sloshed and splashed as four of us struggled for leverage and balance. It was awful groping for sure footing as we gripped slippery wet glass that was sharp enough to cut through leather.

“Here we go,” I said. “One, two, three, lift.”