The coroner emerged from the doorway behind him. A sharp hawk-nosed man with the lean look of a meaner Harry Dean Stanton, he alone seemed unfazed by what he had seen. He handed Mike a clipboard and several forms.

“What caused it?” Doug asked.

The coroner looked at him. “Her death? The official story will be that she was raped and murdered.”

“What is the unofficial story? The real story?”

“The real story? You saw for yourself. She was raped to death. She was raped and sodomized with a large blunt object, approximately the size of a baseball bat. Her intestines are ruptured, her liver and kidneys smashed, and her gall bladder has been completely torn apart. I’ll have to conduct an autopsy and examine her more thoroughly before I can determine the exact extent of the damage and the precise organ stoppage that caused her death.”

Mike looked over the forms, signed the top one, then handed the clipboard back to the coroner, who went back into the kitchen. Mike followed. Through the doorway, Doug saw two white-suited men unrolling a plastic body bag.

Doug sat back down on the couch, grasping Tritia’s limp hand. A moment later, Mike emerged from the kitchen with Chief Catfield.

“Mr. Albin,” the chief said, nodding in acknowledgment.

Doug glared at him, pointing toward the kitchen. “So, tell me, Chief, did she kill herself too?”

“That’s not funny, Mr. Albin.”

“You’re damn right it’s not funny. I told you assholes about the mailman weeks ago. I told you something like this would happen. I warned you. Are you happy now? Now do you believe me?” He slammed his palm angrily against the table in front of him. “Shit!”

“For what it’s worth, I believe you, Mr. Albin. But it’s not as simple as you seem to think it is. Of course, we’re going to question Mr. Smith. But unless we find some prints or threads of clothing or other physical evidence, or unless we can find a witness who can place him at the scene of the crime, there’s no way in hell we’ll be able to detain him for more than an afternoon.”

“Ellen told my wife this was going to happen! She said the mailman was going to kill her! Isn’t that proof enough? Doesn’t that count for something?”

The chief turned toward Tritia. “What exactly did she say, Mrs. Albin?”

Tritia stared at him dazedly for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear it. Her voice, when it came out, was rational, lucid, and completely normal. She looked from Doug to Mike to the chief. “Actually, she did not say the name of the man who was after her. She just said ‘he,’ although I knew immediately who she was talking about.”

Doug ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “Can’t you get the federal authorities involved here?”