I'd never handled anything like this. I'd never tried to find so many people. "I don't know a lot about serial killers," I said, and the two dread words dropped into the room like unwelcome visitors. "But from what I've read and seen on television, I believe they tend to bury their victims in the same geographic conditions, if not in the exact same location. Like the Green River Killer dumping most of his victims in the river."

"That's true," she said. "Some of them prefer the same location. Then they can visit it over and over. To remember." She'd done her homework.

"How do you think I can help?"

"Tell me how you work. How do you find bodies?"

"My sister does two things," Tolliver said, launching into his familiar spiel. "She can find bodies, and she can determine the cause of death. If we have to search for a body, obviously that's going to take longer than someone taking her to the local cemetery, pointing to a grave, and wanting to know what killed the person in the grave."

The sheriff nodded. "It costs more."

"Yes," Tolliver said. There was no way to dress that up and make it prettier, so he didn't. Sheriff Rockwell didn't flinch or try to make us feel guilty about earning a living, as some people did. They acted like we were ambulance chasers. This was all I could do, my sole unique ability; and I was determined to bank as much money as I could while it was still operative. Someday, as quickly as it had been given to me, it might be taken away. I imagined I would be glad; but I would also be unemployed.

"How do you decide where to look?" the sheriff asked.

"We get as much information as we can. What did you find after the disappearances?" Tolliver asked. "Any physical clues?"

The sheriff very sensibly got out a map of the county. After she spread it out over her desk, we all three rose to peer at it.