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she reloaded, set the camera aside, and drew sketches of the scene.
    That took care of it. She wanted to start working on the car, but she couldn't leave the body unattended. The sun pressed down on her. With a sleeve, she wiped sweat off her forehead.
    A swim would feel great.
    She didn't dare.
    Instead, she picked up her camera and fingerprint box and walked to the foot of the trail. She found a shaded area, kicked aside some pine cones and sat down. The mat of needles made quiet crashing sounds.
    She sat there waiting until she heard the voices. Then she stood up and brushed needles off the seat of her trousers.
    Two men came down the trail carrying an empty stretcher.
    "Top of the morning," called Birkus. "They say you've got a present for us."
    Pac got to her feet.

Chapter Five
    Witnesses
    On the other side of the river, Rusty walked carefully down the narrow path through the woods, watching for the killer, for clues, for the missing head, for pine cones.
    The pine cones, whenever he stepped on one, hurt like hell.
    Except for an empty mashed pack of Camels, a Hershey wrapper and a couple of crushed beer cans, the path was clean. None of the debris looked fresh.
    Half a dozen overgrown footpaths led into the path he was following. The suspect could have taken any of them, but Rusty doubted it. This was the main path, the one leading most directly to the Sweet Meadow roadhead.
    When the ground began to rise, he knew he was close to the roadhead. He left the path and approached cautiously. Pine needles scratched his arms. Lines of spider webs stuck to his face and shoulders.
    At last, he could see the parking area.
    It was deserted except for a battered old Chevy pick-up truck.
    Though he could see no one, he heard a man's quiet laughter.
    It came from the truck.
    The pick-up was about twenty feet away. Through its windshield, Rusty saw an empty rifle rack. Nobody was visible inside the cab.
    He looked to the left and right. He saw no one.
    Before stepping into the open, he memorized the license plate number.
    He walked quietly toward the truck. His hand moved to his hip. Though he sought the comfort of his Smith & Wesson, he found only the damp fabric of his underwear. He almost muttered a curse, but stopped himself.
    At the truck, he glanced through an open window. The cab was empty. A faded purse made of blue jeans, complete with pockets but without any legs, lay on the passenger seat. There were sandals on the floor. Stepping toward the back, he looked down into the truck bed.
    He grinned.
    Then he slammed his hand against the side panel, making the metal ring out.
    "Hey!" the girl blurted. "Shit! What the fuck?" Rolling over, she scowled up at Rusty. A teenager. She had frizzy blond hair and a pierced eyebrow with a ring in it that made Rusty hurt, just looking. She had one through her left nostril, too. And one in her upper lip. And about six running down the rim of each ear.
    Hell on metal detectors, Rusty thought.
    She wore a pink T-shirt, and was covered almost to the shoulders by an old brown blanket. "Hey," she said, "what's happening?"
    "Saturday morning," Rusty told her.
    "Yer a riot."
    Beside her, a boy pulled down a blanket that had been hiding his face. He frowned at Rusty. Like the girl, he had a ring through one eyebrow. None in his nose or lips, though, and only one ear was pierced. Its lobe was decorated with a small, silver skull.
    Rusty guessed his age at seventeen, maybe eighteen.
    Not thirty and certainly not bald.
    Though his hair was cut so short it resembled a three-day growth of whiskers, it was jet black. Nobody would be likely to describe him as bald.
    Not our guy, Rusty thought. Not unless the Bass's description had been way off.
    The boy said nothing. Underneath the blanket, his arms were moving. Rusty figured he was probably fastening his pants.
    "So, what're ya doin' here?" the girl asked.
    "Taking a look around."
    "Well, now that y'seen us, how about gettin' the fuck outa here?"
    "You got