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sure? If so, I’d rather have you make the ID . Shit. God damn it man, it seems like just yesterday she was serving me a burger.” He took a deep breath, settled his forehead in one hand, then continued. “What else have you got?”
    There had been sexual activity prior to death, but Kimmie seemed to have been treated well before her demise. She had been well fed, and showed no obvious signs of bruising, with the exception of the strangulation marks around her neck. The lab had recovered skin and hair samples from beneath her fingernails, indicating some kind of struggle, but she showed none of the usual signs of rape such as tearing or bruising of the vagina. Some seminal fluid had been recovered, but until the lab broke it down it was impossible to tell if it would be of any use. He asked Bill if he would have any problem if the feds helped to analyze and give a second, third, and fourth set of eyes to each case. Bill, of course, agreed, then asked for the rest.
    Jane Doe Four had been left to the elements for much longer, so he was unable to tell if strangulation had been the cause of her death. Similarly, she had been exposed to the elements long enough to degrade any fibers he might have found. His best early estimate was that she’d been out there at least one year and less than five. Until further lab analysis of the crime scene and a detailed report of what each body was lying upon, he wouldn’t speculate any further.
    The final blow to the Sheriff’s already overburdened brain was Whelan’s casual mention of a new piece of evidence. Candle wax in varying colors had been discovered around each body. Even as Ashton wondered how in the hell the crime lab had missed it in the first place, he glanced at the waning afternoon light and decided to wait until morning to do another complete sweep of all of the crime scenes. With a weary voice he asked Whelan to keep at it with the other three bodies.
    Turning to his FBI counterpart, he requested the full power of the Bureau in compiling a missing person’s listing for the area over the last ten years. All of them.
    * * * *
    His drive to the Ross farm was anything but pleasant. Even though Mariposa County was sparsely populated, it seemed that each resident was out on his or her lawn this evening, just waiting for the Sheriff’s shiny white Ford Explorer to drive by. He could feel their eyes burning into the interior of the truck as they asked him, “Why here, and why again?”
    At least the last psychopath they’d played host to hadn’t been a damned serial killer, he thought. He had killed as a crime of passion. This guy seemed to be stone cold and know exactly what he was doing.
    He pulled into the long driveway of the ranch house and sat in the truck a moment, preparing himself to perform a duty he despaired of, and one that only he could do. He knew that long before he left theories would be flying as to why he’d visited the Ross ranch, and that none of them would be good.
    * * * *
    As he pulled away from the Ross’ the sun was setting on the longest day of his life.
    * * * *
    The lights of his own ranch beckoned, promising blessed coolness and a brief respite from the insanity of the day. They’d bedded down the case for the night, opting to have the FBI lab experts begin at sunrise tomorrow rather than battle the unnatural light and shadow of klieg lamps.
    He was greeted with the boundless enthusiasm of his Australian shepherd, Boomer, and the plaintive meows of the three ‘barn’ cats demanding to be let into the house for the night. If he’d ever had a soft spot, it was for animals, and the menagerie he’d collected over the years made his ranch an animal shelter in all but name.
    The ranch had been passed down to him by his grandfather, Pappy, upon his death at the ripe old age of ninety-three. Bill had never really known his parents; they had both perished in an automobile accident when he was just three. All he could remember were the comfort of