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can’t be a feminist,” Joe said. “Can I at least be a lesbian? I have my own power tools.”
    Liz glared up at Joe while Adam said, “Why do you bug her like this?”
    “I can’t help it,” Joe said. “She reminds me of my sister.”
    “Your sister must hate you,” Gil said from the doorway.
    “Hey, Gil, can you help us settle an argument?” Joe asked. “What’s the definition of a feminist?”
    “It sounds like you’re about to tell a joke,” Adam said.
    “I’m being serious,” Joe said before Gil interrupted, saying, “How’s it coming?”
    Liz answered. “Adam and I are almost done in here. Then we’ll get started on the other two.”
    “We have an ID on the men in the living room,” Gil said.
    “What are the names?” Liz asked, as she found her clipboard and a pen to take the names down for her report.
    “James Price and Alexander Jacobson.”
    “Really?” she said, looking up. “I know them. I don’t know them well. I just met them through friends.”
    “I’m sorry, Liz,” Adam said. “I can handle processing their bodies, if you want…”
    But Liz said quickly, “No. Thanks. It’s okay, really. I barely knew them.”
    “Do you know what they did for a living?” Gil asked.
    “I know Alexander was in the theater; I think he was a makeup artist for the opera during the summer,” she said. “Jim works up on the Hill.”
    “What’s the Hill?” Joe asked.
    “God, I always forget that you’re not from here,” Liz said. “The Hill is Los Alamos National Laboratory.”
    “Is that because it’s up on a hill?” Joe asked.
    “It’s what locals called it during World War II,” Gil said. “Everyone knew the government was building a laboratory, but they had to pretend it didn’t exist, so they just called it the Hill.”
    “Why the big secret?” Joe asked.
    “Los Alamos National Laboratory,” Liz said, annoyed. “That doesn’t ring any bells for you? Do you know anything about history? It’s where the first nuclear bomb was built. The one they dropped on Hiroshima.”
    Gil could tell Liz was getting close to kicking them off the scene, something she did with regularity, so he jumped in, saying, “Why don’t we go out into the other room and make sure it’s Price and Jacobson before we get too off track.”
    “Fine,” Liz said. “Adam can you finish up in here? We’ll go take a look.”
    As they walked to the living room, the carpet no longer squished with water; it crunched with ice. Liz stopped momentarily before the bodies, shining her pen light at their faces. She said, “It’s them,” then got down to work. While she took some pictures of the overall scene, Joe and Gil set up construction floor lights. She made notes on her clipboard and then took out a measuring tape. Not knowing how else to help, Gil and Joe stood back and let her do her job.
    After a few more notes, Liz approached the bodies. She looked them over, taking more pictures.
    “They each have a bullet wound to the head,” she said, more matter-of-fact than usual. “They have multiple cuts to their arms.”
    She knelt down in front of the man with the beard and the dark stain on his trousers, who matched the picture of Alexander Jacobson, and pulled back the front of his unbuttoned dark blue dress shirt. The color of his shirt had been hiding bloodstains. What looked to be the letter T was carved into his chest. Gil had half expected Joe to make a comment, but he was silent, his face tight. Liz took another half dozen pictures then carefully used the tip of her pen to pull out the front of Jacobson’s pants so she could aim her flashlight down the length of his abdomen to his groin.
    “His genitals are cut,” she said, making a note on her clipboard. Her effect was flat. “The penis is sliced completely off.” Without a word, Joe turned away, heading off into the dark dining room, where he could hear what was being said without having to look at the bodies.
    Liz moved to the next