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to rise for one breast but not for the other. Likewise with the feet. His hands shook. That must have been what Agent Henning had meant when she'd said the body wasn't perfect.
    He stopped beside the autopsy table. Andie was to his right. Detective Kessler stood on the other side, beside Dr. Fitzsimmons.
    "Are you ready, Mr. Wheatley?" asked Andie.
    He blinked nervously, then nodded.
    Dr. Fitzsimmons pulled back the sheet, exposing the head.
    Gus's eyes filled with tears. He could barely speak. "It's not Beth," he said, then quickly turned away.

    Chapter Six.
    Andie watched from behind as Gus headed for the door. The transformation had been sudden and remarkable. One moment a bundle of nerves bouncing off the walls; the next, a beaten man sinking through the floor. For friends and relatives, accounting for a missing loved one was always the same painful roller coaster.
    It certainly put a screwed-up wedding in perspective. "Mr. Wheatley?" she said as Gus opened the door. He stopped in the doorway. "Yes?"
    "Would you mind waiting in the lobby for a few minutes? Detective Kessler and I will be right with you."
    He hesitated. "I'd really just like to pick up my daughter and go home."
    "Just five minutes. Promise."
    Gus nodded, then left the room.
    Detective Kessler looked at her quizzically from across the table. "Just let the guy go. I can do the paperwork later."
    "This isn't about paperwork. I have some things I'd like to ask him about his wife."
    "Now? Why?"
    "I don't want to speak out of turn," said Andie. "Agent Santos is the expert, and she'll give us her views tomorrow. But just look at what you've got so far. Three homicid e v ictims. All strangled, with evidence of overkill. The first two are like a pair--almost identical. The third is a woman in her mid-thirties."
    She glanced at the body before her. "If you look at the state of decomposition, I think we all suspected this wasn't Beth Wheatley. As I'm sure Dr. Fitzsimmons will attest, it's not easy to pinpoint the time of death on a body that has been exposed to animals and the elements. But if I had to guess, I'd say this woman was dead before Beth Wheatley disappeared on Sunday."
    "Probably a fair assumption," said the doctor.
    "So?" asked Kessler.
    Andie continued. "We may be dealing with--I don't know what you'd call them. Bookend homicides. The first two are men who match each other, like bookends. The third is a woman who has nothing in common with the men, other than the strangulation and overkill. But she does happen to bear a physical resemblance to Beth Wheatley, who disappeared yesterday."
    "You're thinking Beth Wheatley is this woman's bookend, as you call it?"
    "I'm saying it's possible. That's why we need to find out more about Mrs. Wheatley. Her daily routine, her lifestyle. As much as we can learn. Once we have a better understanding of who Beth Wheatley is," she said, glancing at the body, "I think we'll have a much easier time figuring out who this is."
    Kessler scratched his head, mulling it over. "Sounds like the kind of thing an FBI agent would come up with." "What do you mean by that?"
    "Nothing. If you want to ask Wheatley some questions, be my guest. But excuse me if I don't jump in with both feet."
    His cynicism was annoying, but as she started toward the door she could think only of the beleaguered man in the waiting room. She stopped for a moment and looked Kessler in the eye. "You know, Dick, I hope you're right. I hope my bookend theory is full of shit. Because if it's not, this is one hell of a good news, bad news scenario."
    Kessler got her drift. "Good news, Mr. Wheatley. That's not your wife stretched out on the table."
    "But the bad news is, it probably will be." She opened the door, and they entered the waiting room.
    She decided to interview him right where he was, in the waiting room. It was private enough and would feel less like an interrogation. Andie was big on not making victims feel like suspects.
    Gus remained seated on the