“But maybe he doesn’t want to go through the agency,” Joe said slowly. “He’s paranoid about leaks, and he could trust you. Venable doesn’t trust many people.”

“Too bad. I’m not volunteering.”

“You’d be crazy if you did.” His lips tightened. “You’re better off working yourself to the bone than playing in his ballpark. Who’s the subject of this age progression?”

“I didn’t ask. Maybe some war criminal they’re trying to trace? For all I know, it could be Bin Laden. I don’t want to know. It’s not my job.” She gazed down at the bones in front of her. “This is my job.”

“Then do it.” He flipped open his computer. “Let Venable pull his own chestnuts out of the fire.”

At least the call from Venable had made Joe more reconciled to her accepting the reconstruction on Cindy, Eve thought. He was willing to admit that the long, painstaking hours she’d have to spend on piecing the little girl back together was the lesser of two evils.

You’d be safer if I’m the one who does it. I’m trying to avoid throwing you to the wolf.

Wolf. Singular. Not wolves.

Who was the wolf Venable was trying to save her from?

And she was still thinking about Venable’s words, she realized impatiently. Forget him. Forget everything but the little girl who must become something more than this pitiful heap of bones. She had been someone’s child. Long ago, someone had heard her prayers and tucked her into bed for the night. She deserved to go home to her parents and have them tuck her into her resting place one last time.

She reached out and gently touched the cranial bone. It will take a little while, but we’ll get there, Cindy. We’ll bring you home and find the bastard who did this to you.

She felt a wave of sickness wash over her. No matter how many times that she was brought face-to-face with this savagery, she never became calloused. But the sight of these shattered bones was particularly painful.