He was in the break room, sitting with an older man in shirtsleeves, drinking Diet Coke and looking at computer-printed diagrams.

“This is Dr. Scarpetta. Sorry,” Pleasants said, adding to Ring, “I don’t know your first name.”

Ring gave me a big smile and a wink. “The doc and I go way back.”

He was in a crisp blue suit, blond and exuding pure youthful innocence that was easy to believe. But he had never fooled me. He was a big-talking charmer who basically was lazy, and it had not escaped me that the moment he had become involved in these cases, we had been besieged by leaks to the press.

“And this is Mr. Kitchen,” Pleasants was saying to me. “The owner of the landfill.”

Kitchen was simple in jeans and Timberland boots, his eyes gray and sad as he offered a big, rough hand.

“Please sit down,” he said, pulling out a chair. “This is a bad, bad day. Especially for whoever that is out there.”

“That person’s bad day happened earlier,” Ring said. “Right now, she’s feeling no pain.”

“Have you been up there?” I asked him.

“I just got here about an hour ago. And this isn’t the crime scene, just where the body ended up,” he said. “Number five.” He peeled open a stick of Juicy Fruit. “He’s not waiting as long, only two months in between ’em this time.”

I felt the usual rush of irritation. Ring loved to jump to conclusions and voice them with the certainty of one who doesn’t know enough to realize he could be wrong. In part this was because he wanted results without work.

“I haven’t examined the body yet or verified gender,” I said, hoping he would remember there were other people in the room. “This is not a good time to be making assumptions.”

“Well, I’ll leave ya,” Pleasants said nervously, on his way out the door.

“I need you back in an hour so I can get your statement,” Ring loudly reminded him.

Kitchen was quiet, looking at diagrams, and then Grigg walked in. He nodded at us and took a chair.

“I don’t think it’s an assumption to say that what we got here is a homicide,” Ring said to me.

“That you can safely say.” I held his gaze.

“And that it’s just like the other ones.”

“That you can’t safely say. I haven’t examined the body yet,” I replied.

Kitchen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Anybody want a soda. Maybe coffee?” he asked. “We got rest rooms in the hall.”

“Same thing,” Ring said to me as if he knew. “Another torso in a landfill.”

Grigg was watching with no expression, restlessly tapping his notebook. Clicking his pen twice, he said to Ring, “I agree with Dr. Scarpetta. Seems we shouldn’t be connecting this case to anything yet. Especially not publicly.”

“Lord help me. I could do without that kind of publicity,” Kitchen said, blowing out a deep breath. “You know, when you’re in my business, you accept this can happen, especially when you’re getting waste from places like New York, New Jersey, Chicago. But you never think it’s going to land in your yard.” He looked at Grigg. “I’d like to offer a reward to help catch whoever did this terrible thing. Ten thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest.”