She drives him out to the coroner’s office in a squad car and not her own. He doesn’t talk on the way there; he just picks at his fingers. His nails are bitten down and ragged. She notices that his hands are soft and not rough from dishwashing the way she would have thought.

They enter through the front, not the way Kateri and Joel Hurt came in to identify the bones. In the lobby, the receptionist sees Kateri and picks up her phone, announcing, “Detective Fisher and a guest to see you, ma’am.” She hangs up and nods at Kateri.

The office is dark. Black tile floor and walnut paneling. There are two leather chairs that it seems unlikely anyone ever sits in. Elise Diaz comes out in a sharp, conservative suit, completely changed from the way Kateri saw her early this morning, in a rain jacket and rubber boots.

Dr. Diaz shakes Shannon’s hand and then holds it and feels the edge of his sweat shirt, the hood of which is up around his neck like a cowl. He swallows. In his left hand, he grips his keys on a short woven lanyard with a print of bears. Dr. Diaz takes that hand, notices the keys, and tells him he can relax. Kateri watches as he tries to release his fingers. He puts the keys in his jeans pocket.

“Thank you for coming,” she says. She walks him down another black-tiled hallway, shoes clicking, and stops outside a wooden office door with her name on a matte-gold plaque.

“Come in,” she says, and ushers them into a warm room with a beautiful, intricate Persian rug and black-and-white photographs of trees. Shannon sits on the edge of a leather chair, facing the desk. He’s pale and, Kateri thinks, brittle.

But pretty well dressed. Both his hoodie and his jeans are clean and fit well, and they seem both new and of good quality. She wouldn’t have guessed he’s been living in poverty in the woods.

Diaz has paper bags, and inside them, evidence in plastic bags. She takes the bags out one at a time, and Kateri notices a wave a nausea or panic wash over Shannon. He swallows and rubs his throat.

“I have some articles,” Dr. Diaz says, “that I’d like to see if you recognize. These are pieces of clothing or personal effects,” she says. “Nothing gory or scary. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She pulls out a small bag first. “Shannon,” she says. “Is it okay if I call you Shannon?”

He looks for a moment like he can’t fathom what else she would call him. “Yes,” he says.

She reveals the bracelet. “Is this familiar to you?” She lays the bag on the table between them.

“Can I?” he says, reaching for it.

“Of course.”

He picks up the bag and looks closely. “That’s my mother’s,” he says.

“How do you know?” Kateri asks.

He points at the stones woven into the braid of the bracelet. “These are rose quartz,” he says, and shrugs. Then, “She made it herself.”