Free Bones of the Lost by Kathy Reichs Page A

matches.
    I entered Hispanic/Latino for ethnicity.
    Nada.
    Changed the age descriptor back to adolescent.
    Nothing.
    Disappointed but not surprised, I did the only thing I could. Taking information from my copy of the girl’s ME file, I entered her intothe Unidentified Persons database. Physical, medical, and personal descriptors. Clothing. Accessories. A brief summary of the circumstances surrounding her discovery.
    There was so little to enter. No scars. No tattoos or piercings. No dental work. No implants. No deformities.
    Just a normal, healthy teenager. Dead.
    10:40. Still no ring from Skype.
    Head to the office and get on with the mummy bundles?
    I decided to give Katy a few more minutes.
    I logged in to the Doe Network, the International Center for Unidentified and Missing Persons.
    Same result.
    I was finishing up when my iPhone sounded.
    “Yo. Doc.” Slidell was chewing on something.
    “Yes.” Staring at a picture of Katy taken two summers back at the Outer Banks. Wind-tossed and caught by late-afternoon sun, her long blond hair shimmered like gold.
    “Spent some time with the brain trust out on Old Pineville Road. These dipshits couldn’t find their own assholes if—”
    “Did you learn anything useful?”
    “You kiddin’ me? Checked out a party junk store, a U-store facility, a garden center looked like it specialized in mold, and a dozen other shitholes holding on by suction cups. Welding shop was my personal favorite. Chick at the desk must’ve spent a whole lotta time sucking fumes. Could’ve waltzed the corpse in with me and Dumbella wouldn’t have taken notice.”
    “No one recognized the photo?” I’d sent Slidell a copy of my cooler Polaroid.
    “No one knew shit.”
    “Did you visit a convenience store called the Yum-Tum?”
    “Yeah. That was a treat.”
    “Did you ask about security tapes?”
    “Camera’s broke because the owner’s broke. Fuckwit actually said that.”
    “Did any other businesses have CCTV or security cameras? Maybe one that might have caught the road, maybe even the accident?”
    “Same story everywhere. The tapes are reused every twenty-four hours.”
    “What about the vehicle? Did you get a lab report back on the paint?”
    “Oh, yeah. They put it right at the top of the priority list and sent the report over by limo.”
    “Did you try body shops? Ask if anyone brought in a car with damage consistent with a pedestrian hit?”
    “You been drinking a lot of coffee this morning?”
    Ignoring that, I told Slidell about my NamUs and Doe Network searches.
    “No surprise there. Larabee sent her through every system on the planet. I checked MP cases. No one’s reported a kid missing that fits her profile.”
    “How far back did you go?”
    “Far enough. Clearly she ain’t local.”
    “She could be a runaway.”
    For several beats no one said anything. I could hear muted traffic noises in the background. Slidell spoke first.
    “The kid’s moving under the radar. Carrying no papers. No keys. Nothing. The odds we hang a name on her ain’t real good. What are ya gonna do?”
    “We’ve still got to try.”
    “Chief’s got my balls in a sling with this woman’s gone missing.”
    “Double task, detective.”
    Slidell made a noise, then disconnected.
    11:02. So much for Skype.
    I typed an e-mail to Katy. Sorry to miss you. Everything okay? Suggest another time. Love, Mom .
    On to the dogs.
    But instead of heading upstairs to get dressed, I got more coffee and returned to my desk.
    What are ya gonna do?
    I dialed the SBI Crime Lab in Raleigh. Asked for Josie Cromwell in the Forensic Biology and DNA section. After a short delay she picked up.
    “Ms. Cromwell.”
    “Hey, Josie. Tempe Brennan.”
    “How you doing, girl?”
    “Good. And you?”
    “Can’t complain. Still know where all the bodies are buried?”
    “A few. Are you busy up there?”
    “Just sitting around, keeping my nails clean.”
    We both laughed. It was a quote from a man she’d recently