“You’re saying Rose got drunk, wandered off, and froze to death.” Schechter.

“Basically, yes. Shortly, Dr. Brennan will discuss skeletal identification and analysis of trauma.”

“Not shortly. Now.”

“Sir?”

“Enough of this ridiculous subterfuge.”

Startled, I looked at Ryan. His face was a stone mask pointed at the lawyer across the table. Recognizing his expression, I jumped in.

“Detective Ryan has been providing background for the coroner’s conclusion. But if your preference is to move on, we have no objection.”

“I suggest we go directly to your report, Dr. Brennan.”

“I suggest you specify what it is you want.” Ryan’s tone was a steel blade.

“Very well, Detective.” Schechter’s chin cocked up slightly. “My client does not believe his daughter died of exposure. He believes she was murdered.”

Placing both forearms on the tabletop, Schechter laced his fingers, and leaned in.

“Further, he believes Dr. Brennan concealed that fact.”

4

MY EYES JUMPED TO CORCORAN. HE CONTINUED STARING AT THE screen.

“Is that so?” Ryan’s tone suggested trench warfare. “To what purpose?”

“That is what I intend to find out.”

Schechter wiggled manicured fingers at the pointer.

I handed it to him.

“Project the close-up of the undisturbed remains.”

Stomach knotted, I did as requested. As demanded.

The red dot appeared on the half-buried skeleton, drifted across the mandible, the clavicles, and the upper ribs. Coming to rest, it performed jerky pirouettes around the breastbone.

“That’s the sternum,” I said.

“I am aware of that.”

The gut clench eased. Was that where Schechter was going? If so, he was a bigger dumbass than I thought. He must not have consulted an osteologist.