“I’ll have to look at my report.” He sighs, resigned to getting up. “Give me a minute to grab the file.”

I hear shuffling on the other end of the line. The crackle of paper sounds and then the doc is back on the phone. “I’ve got a post mortem photo with a pretty good view of the right hand. There is no scar, Kate.”

“Thanks, Doc. I owe you one.”

“I’ll settle for a good night’s sleep.” He hangs up.

I dial Tomasetti’s number without setting down the phone. He answers on the fourth ring with a groggy snap of his name. It surprises me because he’s usually awake at this hour.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” I begin.

“I like it when you call me in the middle of the night.” His voice is deep and low. “What’s up?”

I tell him about the hand and scar.

“Are you sure Long didn’t have a scar?”

“I just verified it with the coroner.”

“I guess now all you have to do is find the man who belongs to the hand,” he says.

“I could circulate the photo and ask for the public’s help.”

“If he catches wind of it, he might run. The guy’s facing life in prison. Maybe the death penalty.”

“Pretty strong motivation.” I think about my options. “I could circulate the photo to area physicians.”

“Hit or miss at best. Guys that age don’t go to the doctor.”

Silence fills the line between us. I can practically hear our thought processes, like static voices zinging between us. But it’s the overtones of our more private thoughts that dominate.

“You go through all the disks?” he asks.

“Twice.”

“How much vodka did that take?”

I glance at the bottle. “A lot.”

“If I can get away, do you want me to come back down?”

“You have a meeting with the deputy superintendent, remember?”

“Won’t be the first meeting I’ve missed.”

“Tomasetti, I don’t want you jeopardizing your career for this.”

He sighs, a long, drawn out sound that makes me wish he was here. “Or your case.”

“I want you to come down.” My voice quiets. “But for all the wrong reasons.”

“You mean not necessarily for my cop skills?”

“That, too.”

We fall silent, then Tomasetti asks. “Have you had any luck identifying the location where these videos were taped?”

“There’s nothing distinguishable. I could probably send out a couple of guys to canvass some of the area motels, try to match up the décor. See if we can get a name that way.”

“Probably didn’t use a real name,” he says. “One of the clerks might recognize Mary Plank from a photo. If they have security cameras, you’ll have even more to go on. Might be worth a shot, Kate.”