t me comfort. Tonight, it felt heavy, suffocating. Under the focused beam of my work lamp, the skull rested on i
rked with the cold, hard facts of bone structure, tissue depth markers, and anthropological data.
e, mid-fifties, found in a shallow grave in the state forest. No
one, shaping the curve of the jaw. I was close. The face emerging from the sk
created. The high cheekbones, the slight arch of the brow,
uldn'
's Christmas party. I stood between my fiancé, Ryan Blackwood, a
rom the phone scree
nes. The same br
or Blackwood, Ryan's mother, who had vanished without a trace two years ago. T
king so badly I could barely dial. How do you tell the man
st digit, the lab door creaked open
ed. Two men stood in the doorway, their faces obscured by
" the taller
could only nod, my e
oth was clamped over my mouth and nose. I struggled, kicking out, my hand knocking the
sickening chemical haze
in across my face. I tried to scream, but only a choked, gurglin
at, beer, and something metallic that I knew was blood. Loud, puls
n front of me. I didn't recognize the person staring back. Her face was a swollen, brui
ear. It was one of the men from the lab. "A
g into my arm. My muscles went slack, my mind foggy, but
roar of the crowd intensified. I was in a ring, like for a boxing match, but
ugs and swelling. I saw bodies pressed together, men shou
en I s
yan. My heart, already broken, seemed to stop beating altogethe
woman beside him. Chloe Davis. Her hands were wra
roaty sound I knew so well, and then he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a friendly
und them hoot
kwood!" one of hi
His eyes swept over the stage, over me, and he didn't even flinch. There was no recognition. No sho
I heard this one's a real artist! S
d up, "Yeah, a forensic artist! Think she
l blow. They were talking about my work, my passion, twisting it into so
orever kissed his mistress, a triumphant smile on her face. Chloe' s eyes met mine for a