The page showed an illustration of a bone, anterior and posterior views. In the corner of the page was a small sketch of a skeleton with the humerus bone of both arms highlighted.

“The humerus,” Guyot said, tapping the page. “And then we have the recovered specimen.”

He reached into the shoe box and gently lifted the bone. Holding it above the book’s illustration he went through a point-by-point comparison.

“Medial epicondyle, trochlea, greater and lesser tubercle,” he said. “It’s all there. And I was just telling these two officers, I know my bones even without the book. This bone is human, Detective. There’s no doubt.”

Bosch looked at Guyot’s face. There was a slight quiver, perhaps the first showing of the tremors of Parkinson’s.

“Are you retired, Doctor?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know a bone when I see-”

“I’m not challenging you, Dr. Guyot.” Bosch tried to smile. “You say it is human, I believe it. Okay? I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here. You can put that back into the box now if you want.”

Guyot replaced the bone in the shoe box.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

“Calamity.”

Bosch looked down at the dog. It appeared to be sleeping.

“When she was a pup she was a lot of trouble.”

Bosch nodded.

“So, if you don’t mind telling it again, tell me what happened today.”

Guyot reached down and ruffled the dog’s collar. The dog looked up at him for a moment and then put its head back down and closed its eyes.

“I took Calamity out for her afternoon walk. Usually when I get up to the circle I take her off the leash and let her run up into the woods. She likes it.”

“What kind of dog is she?” Bosch asked.

“Yellow Lab,” Brasher answered quickly from behind him.

Bosch turned and looked at her. She realized she had made a mistake by intruding and nodded and stepped back toward the door of the room where her partner was.