Free Unnatural Selection by Aaron Elkins Page B

which was then done growing. And when the last epiphysis had fused to the last shaft, somewhere in the person’s mid-twenties-a bit later for the clavicle-the person was also done growing. The amount of time the process took, researchers had learned long ago, varied from bone to bone, but was highly predictable for each individual bone. So at least for the first quarter-century of life or so, one could fairly reliably estimate age from the skeleton by how much fusion had taken place on the various bones. If they were all completely fused, the person had been, physiologically, at least, an adult; if not, he or she hadn’t yet been fully grown.
    And this particular epiphysis on this particular person was not. A cleft, thin but plainly visible, still ran halfway around the base of the coinlike disk of bone that formed the top of the ulna; fusion had been incomplete at the time of death.
    “So how old was he?” Madeleine asked when he’d pointed this out.
    He shrugged. “For white males, it usually closes up anywhere from fourteen to eighteen. There’s some variability, of course, but-”
    “You mean he’s… he’s not even eighteen years old?”
    “Fifteen or sixteen would be my guess.”
    The grizzled, scarred old veteran that they’d been imagining had suddenly become a teenaged boy, a youth who had hardly lived, who had died wretchedly, in pain and misery, far away from home, probably weeping for his mother or his girl.
    He laid the bone back in the box with more tenderness than he’d picked it up. “Just a kid,” he said softly.
    “Now I’m depressed,” Madeleine said. “I could use some coffee. How about you?”
    “Same here. Thanks.”
    “Be back in a minute.”
    There wasn’t much more to be learned from the bones, and there were no pieces to be glued together, not that gluing would have been a good idea anyway until the bones had been stabilized. If he’d had some standardized tables with him, he could have come up with a formal stature estimate from measurements of the long bones, but he didn’t. He did, however, have a pretty good feel for such things, and from eyeing and hefting the bones, he was able to arrive at an estimate that he’d hardly stake his reputation on, but in which he had confidence all the same. His estimate was five feet to five-feet-four inches, even shorter than he’d thought from the costume display.
    So it was not only a kid, it was a runty, probably ill-fed one at that. Gideon sighed as he fitted the lid back onto the carton.
    Now I’m depressed.
    He pulled up a stool and opened the other carton, the one that had once been home to two dozen jars of Prince’s Tuna and Mayo Paste. It now contained five small white paper bags, each crisply folded over precisely three times, and one larger sack from Porthmellon Store (Groceries, Fruit and Vegetables, Beers and Wines). There was place-and-date information printed on each one with a marking pen: Town Beach, nr Holgate’s Grn, 21 May 2002; Rat Island, nr quay, 4 Nov 2003; Woolpack Pt, 15 Jan 2004…
    Each bag contained a single bone or bony fragment, which he laid out on its own bag. He saw at once that his promise to Madeleine-“There’s always something to be learned”-was a bit exaggerated. The two smallest weren’t human; flattened and streamlined, like miniature paddles, they were probably metapodials, the fingerlike bones from seal flippers. The other four, while human, had little to offer. Two fragments of femur, one near-complete tibia, and half of an ulna. Not even enough to make respectable guesses as to age and sex. The two humeral fragments and the ulna were old, maybe as old as the kid in the other box. And they’d probably been in the sea for a long time, given the nematode encrustations. For them, Madeleine’s guess of old shipwreck remains was as good as any.
    The tibia-the shin bone-was newer: not brown and fragmenting like the others, but ivory-colored and dense. The proximal epiphysis-the one at the