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She had pulled all the strings her feeble position as a fellow in forensic pathology allowed in order to convince the coroner of Decatur, Georgia, to meet her on a Saturday. The sun was at its peak by noon when she found the headquarters building of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. The parking lot was mostly empty. Livia entered the front door and gave her name to the security guard behind the desk. He picked up the phone to announce Dr. Cutty’s arrival, and a few minutes later a fiftysomething woman entered the lobby.

“Hi,” she said. “Denise Rettenburg.”

“Livia Cutty. Thanks for meeting me today.”

“I’ve got a case, so I had to come in anyway,” Dr. Rettenburg said. “Follow me. Thanks, Bruce,” she said to the security guard before leading Livia intothe building. They approached an elevator where Dr. Rettenburg pressed the up button.

“So why is Raleigh so interested in Paula D’Amato?”

The doors opened and Livia followed Denise Rettenburg into the elevator.

“Maybe for no reason,” Livia said. “But we’ve seen a few cases of young women with similar findings, so I wanted to have a look to see if we can make any connections.”

“Sounds like police work.”

“Right now, it’s nothing more than suspicion. I need some facts before I take anything to the police.”

Dr. Rettenburg smiled. “Yousoundlike a Dr. Colt fellow. Facts first.”

The doors opened and they shuffled out of the elevator and walked the empty hallway.

“So this is a personal inquisition, or does Dr. Colt know about it?”

“Dr. Colt is familiar with the case that got me onto my suspicions. A homicide case from late summer. But about the D’Amato case, I’m down here now on my own.”

Dr. Rettenburg seemed to analyze this last statement. “Who are the other cases?” she asked. “The other girls you think D’Amato is connected to.”

“Two others. One is a girl named Nancy Dee. You know anything about that?”

“No. A Raleigh case?”

Livia shook her head. “Virginia. But same MO as D’Amato—her body was found in a shallow grave in the woods. She died of an acute overdose of ketamine.”

Dr. Rettenburg looked at Livia as they walked. “Ketamine?”

“Yeah. Tell me, was ketamine found in Paula D’Amato’s toxicology report?”

“It was.”

“Was that the cause of death? Ketamine overdose?”

“No.” Dr. Rettenburg slowed and pointed to the doorway of her office. “She was beaten to death.”

* * *

The autopsy photos were fanned out on Dr. Rettenburg’s desk and Livia took her time studying them. They showed Paula D’Amato’s body on the morgue table, her skin pale and blue and stretched in the same bloated way she’d seen so many other bodies in the last few months. Paula D’Amato had died recently, that was certain. Her body was not decomposed and death had come shortly before the autopsy exam.

“What sort of timing did you come up with?” Livia asked.

“About forty-eight hours at time of exam. In the woods for two nights, we suspect. The only thing that slowed down the carnivores was the body bag.”

Livia leafed through crime scene photos next, which showed a black vinyl body bag lying in a wooded area heavily covered by leaves. Corners of the bag were ragged from the animals eager to get at the rotting flesh it held. The body sat on the precipice of a shallow grave, a mound of dirt next to it.

“What are the thoughts on the crime scene?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Dr. Rettenburg said. “No one quite knows what to make of it. Detectives figure the perp got interrupted in the middle ofdigging the grave. The site wasn’t too far into the woods, so it’s possible someone spooked this guy and he had to abandon the disposal. That’s the working theory currently. Problem is, Homicide thinks the guy had lights set up.”

“Lights?”