Even in the middle of the night, half-asleep, she could make a joke about a pair of expensive sunglasses she’d lost days earlier.

“I’ve got everybody on that,” Harry said, as he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

He made a pit stop in the bathroom, then threw on his clothes. He crept down the hallway and down the stairs, avoiding the creaks so as not to wake his nine-year-old son, Dylan, whose bedroom was only a few steps from his and Janice’s. A minute later, he was in the car and on his way.

And seven more minutes later he was on Miller’s Road, the flashing lights of Stick’s car visible in the distance. There was a second vehicle there, a dark-colored Ford pickup, with a man leaning up against the back fender, baseball hat pulled low, arms crossed. Harry figured this was the guy who had spotted whatever had attracted the coyote’s interest.

Stick had aimed his cruiser at the scene, headlights on. Harry parked behind Stick’s car and, figuring he might need more than just high beams, grabbed a Maglite from the glove compartment.

Stick met him as he was getting out from behind the wheel.

“Janice says hi.” Stick looked pleased. “Lead the way.”

When they were two yards away, Stick stopped and pointed. Harry used the Maglite.

It was a body. And a naked one, at that. At a glance, male, about six feet, but it was in such a state that it was difficult to know much more. One thing that did stand out: this dead guy had no hair. And that didn’t fit with the description of either of the two missing men.

As Harry moved closer, panning the Maglite’s beam from one end of the body to the other, something unusual became evident. The legs, the arms, the torso itself, had the look of being deflated. Like a blow-up doll that had sprung a leak. No, not that, Harry thought. More like boneless chicken.

“Kinda weird, right?” Stick said.

Harry didn’t want to contaminate the scene, but he had to get a better look. He took two tentative steps closer, knelt. The body had been sliced up everywhere, but not in the fashion of some fevered attack. The cuts were long and straight and precise, like slits, down the arms and legs and into the chest.

As best Harry could see, there were no bones in those limbs. And the way the chest was collapsed, he was betting much of the rib cage was missing, too.

The dead man’s head was turned toward Harry, the mouth open an inch. Harry cast the light into the opening. The man had no teeth. Judging by the ragged state of his gums, the teeth had been removed recently, and not by a skilled dentist. But a coroner would be able to tell him more.