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coming in
tomorrow. One of those little Bobcat front-loaders. He's going to
spread the
sawdust over the rest of the yard and then turn the whole thing over so
we can
plant grass." I reached up and clapped Norman on the shoulder. "Tell
you what,
big guy, if you're still rip-roarin' and ready to go, why don't you see
if you
can pry the ties off the sides."
    "And
then
burn 'em?" he leered.
    "Yeah,"
I said. "Then you can burn 'em."
    He
lit out
across the yard just as the back door opened and Rebecca stepped out
onto the
patio. She'd been home long enough to change into a pair of stonewashed
jeans
and a gray Husky T-shirt that said WOOOF across the front in big purple
letters. She came down the four brick steps and stood by my side. She
surveyed
the yard.
    "Wow,"
she said. "You guys have been busy. The place looks great. It looks so
much better back here with that eyesore gone."
    Normal returned from the garage
with a
five-foot metal pry bar which he jammed into the sawdust directly
behind the
ties.
    George
and
Harold wandered over to pay their respects. After the standard small
talk, they
began to shuffle nervously about until George finally took the lead.
"Ah,
Miss Duvall. You didn't by any chance ... I mean, Leo said you was
going to ...
I mean ... he said that when you got here . . ."
    Rebecca
arched
an eyebrow my way. I gave her the nod.
    "It's
on
the kitchen counter, George," she said.
    "Handy
dandy," he said over his shoulder.
    We
watched them
disappear into the house.
    "Where's
Ralph?" she asked.
    "He
seemed
to think yard work was beneath his dignity. He got all pissed off and
left" "Ralph? Really?"
    Before
I could
reply, a resounding crack split the air and .the entire front wall of
the
foundation hit the ground with a thump. Norman
grinned our way. Five feet of composted sawdust, deep brown, like
devil's food
cake, stood without support, perfect and molded. Actually more like
marble
cake, as a thin line of white ran about a third of the way down the
center of
the pile.
    Norman scooped a tie up under
each arm and
headed back toward his beloved fire. "Howdy, Miss Duvall," he said on
the way by.
    I
trotted along
after him. "Put them on one at a time, Norman. We don't want the fire
getting too
big."
    "We
don't?" He sounded surprised.
    Technically
speaking, burning is illegal within the city limits. All afternoon, I'd
been
expecting a fire truck to show up. I didn't want to blow it now.
    "No,
we
don't," I insisted. "One at a time."
    When
I turned
back, Rebecca was over by the pile, down on one knee, picking at the
sawdust
with her finger. I moseyed over and stood next to her. She was using
her
manicured index finger to clear powdery debris out from around the
white
streak.
    "Cedar
sawdust," I said. She ignored me.
    "Leo,
go
in the garage and get me one of those new paintbrushes we had left over
from
when we painted the trim in the study."
    "What—"
I started.
    "Hurry,"
she said without looking up.
    "What's
the problem?"
    "Will
you
just get the damn brush," she snapped.
    When
I returned,
she quickly tore the plastic protector from the brown bristles and
started to
brush away the loose material along the length of the streak, carefully
exposing what appeared to be a long mottled stone of a grayish hue,
thinner at
the center than at its somewhat bulbous ends.
    Suddenly
she
got to her feet. Her face was flushed. She took a deep breath. "It's a
femur," she said. "A what?"
    "The
largest of the leg bones." "From what?"
    She
put a hand
on my shoulder. I could feel her trembling.
    "No,
Leo," she said. "You don't understand. The question is not from what.
The question is from who." "Who?"
    She
nodded.
"It's human."

Chapter 4

    I
Squinted my
eyes, squeezing the distant dots of light into a continuous river of
yellow
brilliance which flowed along the Interstate like luminous lava. Below
the
crowded highway, the same bright beams lived secondhand lives on the
shimmering
surface of Lake Union. Any illusion of tranquillity was
short-lived,