“Till he doesn’t.” He phoned Reed, found out the coroner’s investigator had arrived, done a quick visual, authorized Liz to take possession of the bones, and left. The crime scene techs were doing their thing but had turned up nothing, so far.

Returning to Sandy and Buzz, he said, “We’re heading back to the other scene. You stay here.”

“How is that one, sir?” said Sandy.

“What do you mean?”

“The other scene. We heard bones over the radio. Whose?”

“Someone dead.”

Sandy flinched.

Buzz said, “They have something to do with each other? Have to be, no?”

Milo rocked on his heels. He spoke between clenched jaws. “Here’s what has to be: Guard this scene as if it was your best set of barbells. Don’t let anyone but the C.I. and the C.S. crew within fifty yards of the body—make that a hundred. Stand right there. Don’t wander off. Don’t answer any questions. Of any sort. From anyone. At any time. If you’re considering thinking, don’t do that, either.”

Buzz stood straighter. “Sir. We’re all about proper procedure.”

Milo saved his laughter until we were well away. Not a pleasant sound, quick and harsh as a gunshot.

Liz Wilkinson stood just outside the perimeter of the bone-dump. A team of three crime scene techs had nailed up an inner cordon on stakes, was photographing, bagging and tagging. Moe Reed stood near enough to observe, far enough to avoid getting in their way.

Liz said, “Got some new data for you. The front of the face exhibits no breakage or damage of any sort. No erupted teeth on either jaw, the buds are barely visible, I’m estimating age at around two months. And Alex, you were right about the bones being coated. When I got up close I could smell beeswax, it’s got a distinct aroma. My father collects antique tea caddies and he uses it to shine them up. So maybe we’re dealing with another type of collector. Some sort of fetishist.”

Milo repeated the enraged-father theory.

She said, “A father preserving his own child’s bones?” She looked at me.

I said, “You know the drill: Anything’s possible.”

“God, I hope that’s not how it turns out. These past few days are already testing my detachment mettle.”

“If there were faint tool marks could they be spotted under the wax?”

“I think so but I’ll find out when I get them magnified. I’ll x-ray every single one, maybe we’ll get lucky and internal damage due to disease will show up, or a subtle injury. The nice thing—God, that sounds horrible—is that fresh infant skeletal remains have the best chance of yielding genetic material.”

Milo said, “Fresh, as opposed to the first ones.”

“DNA’s been extracted from eons-old tissue so I’m guardedly optimistic on those, as well.”

“That like nervously calm?”