Rumor had it that they were covered with semen and blood. To the world at large, the panties had confirmed what had long been suspected: Kathy Culver was dead. It was a sad though not uncommon story. She had been raped and murdered by a random psychopath. Her body would probably never be found - or maybe some hunters would stumble across the skeletal remains in the woods one day, giving the press a great eleven o'clock commercial teaser, bringing the cameras back into the story with undying hopes of catching a grief-stricken relative on film.

They made it seem like it was a dirty thing,' Christian continued.

Pink," they said. "Silk," they said. They never called them underwear or undergarments or even just plain panties. It was always pink silk panties.

Like that was important. One TV station even interviewed a Victoria's Secret model for her comment on them. Pink silk panties. Like that meant she was asking for it. Trashing Kathy like that…'

His voice sort of faded away then. Myron said nothing. Christian was working up to something. Myron only hoped it wasn't a breakdown.

I guess I should get to the point,' Christian finally said.

'Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.'

'I saw something today. I-' Christian stopped and swung his eyes towards Myron's. They looked at him, pleading. 'Kathy may still be alive.'

The words hit Myron like a wet slap. Whatever Myron had been preparing himself for, whatever he imagined Christian was leading up to, Kathy Culver might still be alive was not a part of the equation.

17

'What?'

Christian reached behind him and opened his desk drawer. The desk too was something out of Leave It to Beaver. Completely uncluttered. Two cans, one with Bic pens, the other with sharpened number-two pencils. Gooseneck lamp. Desk blotter with calendar. Dictionary, thesaurus, and The Elements of Style all in a row between two globe bookends.