A rope was still knotted around the dead man’s ankles from where Carter had lassoed him. Lifeguards tied ropes around their waists during rescues. It would have come in handy the night before. Carter had made sure he’d be ready for the next time.

Corpses lose something they had in life. When the muscles slacken, the face gets soft, wider, dimples and laugh lines vanish. It’s one of the reasons people sometimes misidentify remains, and it’s why Archie didn’t recognize the street kid at first. It was the tribal earring that gave him away. Then the braided beard, the army surplus jacket, the skateboarder shoes. “I know him,” Archie said.

“Freeze,” Archie heard Robbins bellow. “You know I hate it when you peek.” Archie took a small step back from the body, and Susan and Anne did the same. Robbins jogged up from under the freeway, followed by two forensic investigators, all three dressed in identical white Tyvek suits, hoods up. Robbins knelt next to the body, opened up a plastic toolbox, and snapped on latex gloves. He gave Carter’s blanket a disdainful snort. “Tell me some jackass didn’t throw a nasty old blanket on my corpse.”

Susan glanced in the direction where Heil was interviewing Carter. “Not so loud,” she said. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“Bag it,” Robbins said to one of his investigators.

Archie, Susan, and Anne took another few steps back. One of the forensic investigators started taking digital photographs of the scene. The other snapped on gloves and carefully folded the blanket into a large evidence bag.

All Archie cared about at that moment was getting a look at the body’s hands. But he knew better than to rush Robbins.

Archie heard a siren approaching, and then saw an ambulance slam to a stop on the bridge above them. Two EMTs hopped out and started down the stairs. “I think it’s a little late for lifesaving measures,” Archie said to Robbins.

“I’m taking him to Emanuel for autopsy. My office, as you’ll recall, is submerged.”

“So you called an ambulance?” Susan said.

Robbins didn’t even look up. “You want to help me get him into my car?” He turned his head back toward the EMTs. “We’re okay here,” he yelled. “Give us a minute.” The two EMTs stopped in their tracks and looked at one another, clearly unsure how to proceed.

Archie sighed and lifted his badge. “Just hang out for a few minutes,” he yelled. “We’re fine. He’s dead. Thanks.”