Davidson looked her over. “You think I’m a son of a bitch, Dunn? I can live with that. Besides, look how it got you going. Think you would have been motivated like this if I woulda patted your hand and said, ‘Take your time’?”

She didn’t answer.

Davidson scratched his nose again. “I got my stripes. Keep going like this, maybe it’ll be your turn.”

Marge nodded, turned away, then broke into a soft smile. Damn it, they did do a good job! She took in a deep breath and put her hands in her pocket. Orit Bar Lulu was coming their way, her footing less than steady. She stopped and checked her watch.

“It’s been over an hour,” she snapped to Davidson.

“We’re moving as fast as we can, Mrs. Bar Lulu. You can’t rush these things.”

“You’re driving me crazy.” She pointed to the grave. “How long does it take to dig someone up? Give me a shovel. I’ll do it in ten minutes.”

“It’s not the unearthing, Mrs. Bar Lulu,” Marge said. “We don’t want to harm the body. I don’t think you want that, either.”

“We’re moving as fast as we can, ma’am.” Davidson looked around. “Detective Dunn, you keep an eye on the lab men. I’ve got a few calls to make.”

Marge nodded and he left. Bastard probably wanted to get warm because it was cold outside. The yellow-slickered lab man raised his head. “We got most of the mud off. Do you want to take a look, Mrs. Bar Lulu?”

Orit glanced at Marge. As she stepped forward, she lost her balance. Marge caught her. She called out to the mountainside. “Sergeant Decker, we’re ready for an ID.”

Decker pivoted around and jogged over to Marge. He saw how she was supporting Orit. He flanked the Israeli woman on the other side and offered her an arm. Orit was white as she grabbed his wrist.

“First, I nag you to hurry up…then I don’t know if I can even do it.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

“You want a few minutes to catch your breath?” Decker asked.

“No, I’m ready,” Orit said. “Let’s get it over with.”

Slowly, they approached the body, Orit’s eyes bobbing in their sockets.

“I’ve got you,” Marge said. “Just take your time.”

Orit looked at them for moral support, her head lolling from one side to the other. Decker patted her shoulder. “Take your time. If you feel sick, let us know.”

Orit nodded, then forced herself to study the face. A moment later, she jerked her head up, took a step backward, then gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Decker grabbed her arm.

“Are you okay?”