Free Twisted by Laura Griffin Page A

kit should include her clothes, her nail clippings. They should be able to get a profile.”
    Allison shook her head. “I keep thinking of all the time wasted.”
    “You’re going to have to make nice with that deputy. I want a look at their suspect sketch. Hell, I want a look at their entire case file.”
    Allison’s phone buzzed from the cup holder, and she checked the screen. Not Brooks. His apology would have to wait.
    “Hey, Kelsey, what’s up?”
    Allison listened for a moment, and her stomach filled with dread. It was becoming a familiar feeling.
    She hung up with her friend. Then she checked hermirrors and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the highway.
    Mark glanced at her. “Change of plan?”
    “That was a friend of mine, Kelsey Quinn. I called her yesterday with some questions about the case.”
    “Kelsey Quinn. Where have I heard that name before?”
    “She’s a forensic anthropologist,” Allison said grimly. “We’re going to go look at some bones.”

CHAPTER 6

     
    The Delphi Center looked like a Greek temple that had been inexplicably transported to the heart of the Texas Hill Country. Mark remembered the fanfare when the place opened—first, because it was a cutting-edge forensic research facility, and second, because they’d managed to hire away some of the Bureau’s top scientists. Now, only five years later, the lab boasted the largest body farm in the country—which they proudly referred to as the body “ranch”—as well as a stellar reputation in law enforcement circles.
    Allison said Dr. Quinn would be meeting them in the lobby, but Mark hadn’t expected her to blow in from outdoors. She strode up to them wearing an olive green ski vest and faded jeans with mud on the knees. He took one look at her auburn ponytail and recalled where he’d met her before.
    “Special Agent Wolfe. Good to see you again.” She turned to Allison. “We met once at the FBI Academy. I was giving a talk to a room full of police chiefs.”
    “Postmortem interval,” Mark supplied.
    “I’ll take your word for it. It was a busy week.” She turned to the weekend security guard. “We all checked in, Ralph?”
    He nodded silently from his place by the door, and Mark and Allison followed the young anthropologist into a narrow hallway. They passed a knot of people clustered in a doorway. Detectives, probably. Every one of them was packing and Mark had seen their unmarked vehicles in the parking lot.
    “Deliveries,” the anthropologist said, following his gaze. “We get a lot on weekends. Cops bringing in blood and ballistic evidence. Always a few rape kits.”
    “The staff works weekends, Doctor?”
    “Call me Kelsey. And yeah, evidence clerks do.” She paused beside a door and flattened her palm against a panel to open it. “Plus, there’s that group that seems to be here no matter what day it is.”
    “Which includes you,” Allison said pointedly.
    “Hey, look who’s talking.” She nudged Allison with her elbow and glanced at Mark. “I don’t always work Saturdays, but we’re on a research dig.”
    “I noticed the vultures.”
    “That’s not us, thank God.” She shuddered. “I hate those nasty birds. Today’s recovery is fully skeletonized.”
    Mark eyed her with amusement. The last time he’d seen the woman, she’d been giving an enthusiastic lecture on maggots, and yet a few birds gave her the shivers.
    Or maybe it was the temperature. The corridor they were in sloped down dramatically, and it was colder than the one they’d come from. Mark felt like he’d stepped into a meat locker.
    She stopped before a door with a small black flag depicting a skull and crossbones pinned up beside it. Again, she pressed her palm against a panel to gain access.
    “Osteology,” she announced. “Otherwise known as our Bones Unit. You ever seen one before?”
    Mark scanned the office, which looked like any other room full of cubicles. He glanced up. She’d been talking to him. “No, I