"Right over here," Simpson said.

Cox looked up and turned back and joined them.

"You think it's something, Jesse?" Cox said.

"Maybe."

"We found it right here," Simpson said. "It was snagged on this little bush."

Jesse squatted on his heels, looking at the bush and the ground around it.

"When did it rain last?" Jesse said.

"Tuesday," Simpson said. "I remember, the Sox game got washed out."

Jesse kept looking.

"What are you looking for?" Cox asked.

"She probably weighed a hundred, hundred and twenty. That's a lot of dead weight to carry, unless you're in pretty good shape."

"So you figure he dragged her?"

"He's probably not too calm while he's dragging her. When the ring around her neck snagged, he just tugged her loose and kept dragging."

Jesse continued to sit on his heels and look around him.

"There's a little cul-de-sac up the hill," Jesse said. "Off Newbury Street. DPW uses it to pile sand for the winter."

"Kids go in there to smoke dope," Simpson said.

"And make out," Cox said.

"Smoke and moke," Simpson said. He reddened a little, taking pleasure in his wit.

"The perfect combo," Jesse said.

He stood and began to walk up the hill toward the cul-de-sac. Cox and Simpson followed. They wanted to watch Jesse. He'd been a homicide cop. L.A., where there were murders all the time. Main Street bordered the lake at right angles to Morton Drive. By the time he reached the top of the hill he was nearly a mile from his car. He stood in the cul-de-sac and looked back down toward the place where they had found the ring. He was talking aloud as much to himself as to Simpson and Cox.

"It's dark, and darker in here. Guy pulls in. She's probably dead. He's probably got her in the trunk."