He’d read long ago that unidentified bodies were donated to the medical school. In fact, a few years back there’d been a big issue when the body of a transient had been donated, and then the family had come looking for him. The family had made a big publicity stink, and no doubt the medical examiner had changed the policy. But he was stunned that the three unidentified women were readily available. Would the old bones reveal new facts?

The words on the paper blurred, then sharpened. According to the article, the women had been reduced to simple skeletons. They probably didn’t take up much space. Perhaps they had rooms and rooms full of boxes of old skeletons, waiting through the decades for relatives to claim them.

Technology and education had come a long way. Could they identify them with current techniques? He shook his head. Someone had to report them missing first so there would be a record to compare to. And no one was going to report these women.

These women had been abandoned. They were unwanted.

His phone rang and he pushed out of his chair, standing stiffly. He shuffled across the room and picked up the old receiver.

He listened, pondering the problem presented. Someone had made an inquiry into the identity of one of the old cases. Someone he knew very well.

There was no question of what had to be done. He gave his orders and hung up the phone.

Well. So much for his theory that no one would come forward for the old women. Why had Lorenzo spoken now?

Lorenzo would find out how wrong he was.

His gaze rested on the face of the female doctor in the paper. Dr. Victoria Peres. She was obviously a respected expert in her field. In his day, a respected woman took good care of her house and man. His lips formed a sneer. Today’s world was on a road to ruin. Kids killing each other, drugs, music, and naked women everywhere. His son had demonstrated on his computer how women plastered images and videos of themselves as they did sinful acts. Shameless. Corrupting the minds of young men everywhere. The United States was going to hell.

This female doctor expected to find something new with these old bones. He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know all of her abilities, but he knew he couldn’t allow her to get a good look at the bones. He’d seen TV shows where they tracked down suspects from a single hair. Or a dog’s hair. Or saliva on a cup. He couldn’t risk present-day technology picking apart the remains of those women.

Old Lorenzo would be dealt with, but how could he fix this new problem? Doing something about the Bone Lady was completely out of the question, so he had to address the bones. He looked at the picture again. Even in the black-and-white print, he could feel the woman’s excitement during her lecture to the college class. She’d done well for herself, but in the long run she was just another woman trying to fill a man’s role. Part of him admired her for her education and success. The other part was sad for the obvious misfit that she’d become. What man would want to marry such a powerful woman? He knew she’d already failed at one marriage.

She needed to learn to be more deferential and humble.

Then she’d make a man a good wife.

Seth stared into his beer, his shoulders hunched over the polished oak bar. His hotel’s restaurant was noisy for 10 P.M. on a Monday night, and he’d instantly decided to sit in the quiet adjacent bar. He needed peace. It’d been a hell of a forty-eight hours. He’d barely stepped foot in Portland when he’d been summoned to the most tragic scene he’d ever witnessed. Then came the shock of seeing Tori. And then realizing Tori had never forgiven him.

Had he forgiven himself?

Seth took a long swallow of his dark beer and closed his eyes, letting the cool liquid roll over his tongue.

Why did he still play the “what if” game?

He couldn’t know how his life would be if he’d stayed with Tori. Possibly he could be a lot happier at this moment. Or he could be a lot more miserable. Eden would be a constant. He’d still love her with all his heart. He prayed he hadn’t damaged his daughter by divorcing her mother. And he prayed he hadn’t damaged his daughter by staying with her mother for as long as he had. He’d spent almost two decades trapped between a rock and a hard place. And praying a lot.

“This stool taken?”

Seth looked up into the face of Detective Callahan. “Only by you.”

The detective perched on the stool and lay his cowboy hat on the bar, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looked tired. His face seemed thinner than yesterday, and his jacket was rumpled. But the eyes were still razor sharp.

“It’s been a long two days,” Seth stated.

“You’re telling me,” answered the detective. “I hate the ones with kids.”

Seth nodded. He’d had too many kids cross his table in his years as a medical examiner. It never got easier. As a father, he saw his daughter’s face on each child.

“Come here often?” Seth lamely joked.

The detective snorted. “Actually I do. It’s a convenient stop on the way home.” He raised a hand at the bartender, who arched an eyebrow at him, and Callahan answered with a nod. The bartender started to pull a draft.

They sipped their beers in silence for a long moment. Seth didn’t feel the need to fill the emptiness with talk. He’d crossed paths with the detective twice that day at the ME’s building. He’d seen a man on a mission to get the girls’ mystery solved. The same mission Seth and Dr. Campbell had been on.

And they’d succeeded in part of their agenda. All six girls had been identified last night. One set of parents was at the hospital, hoping their daughter would wake. Five other sets had gone home to mourn. Many parents were hugging their kids tonight, while others were letting their roaming children understand the type of torture they’d inflicted on their parents.