Rudge found Jenner in the loading dock, standing over a folding table onto which he’d spilled the cleaned ribs of the hanging victims. From a distance of ten paces, he watched Jenner arrange the ribs by size and by side of the body, smallest at the top, recreating the chest wall with the now-spotless bones.

Jenner bent close to the table, scanned each rib with a moving finger, as if he were reading Braille, pausing every couple of seconds to adjust the bone positioning. Finally satisfied, he straightened and scrawled notes on a diagram on his clipboard.

Rudge said, “We can rebuild him…Steve Austin, right, doc? The Six Million Dollar Man?”

Jenner looked up, nodded. “Hey, Rudge.”

“They said you were looking for me.”

“Yes. Thanks for coming down.”

“I hear you had a close encounter with Amanda Tucker.”

Ignoring the comment, Jenner gestured to the sealed mortuary access. “I’m still locked out of the morgue. Thank God I’d put this stockpot out here.”

“Oh, you know it! When I’m praying to the Lord tonight, I’ll be thanking sweet baby Jesus that Dr. Jenner put his corpse soup out to cook in the garage today…”

“Well, don’t mock the soup, detective—it’s given us answers…” Jenner beckoned Rudge over and gestured to the bones. “It’s what I was expecting—there are bilateral fine score marks down the anterior aspects of the ribs in the midclavicular line.”

“And again in English?”

“These are from the big guy. They carved him up on the front of his chest, both sides, deep enough to cut the ribs.” Jenner paused. “They did the same thing to Marty.”

Rudge nodded. “I see.”

“I think that kid from Bel Arbre is connected to all this. Obviously, the cause of death is completely different, but…”

“Any drugs on him?”

“Nothing in his pockets. Tox’ll take a few weeks.”

Rudge stepped back. “I like him for a connection. And I like him for a homicide, too. Look, we’re a two-homicides-a-year county, so when you get two messed-up murders, then another four even more messed-up murders, and then another really, really fucked-up death, the dots pretty much connect themselves.”

“Good.” Jenner smiled with satisfaction. “So, I don’t suppose you want to talk to Cooper and Martin in Highway Patrol…”

“Nope—I start talking to them, I want to hit something.” Rudge’s voice sunk to a mutter. “That something ideally being Gordie Cooper…”

“They want it to be a simple accident; I’m worried they’re going to shit-can the investigation. You want to take a little road trip?”

“Where to?”

“Bel Arbre, see where they found the kid.”

“Can we stop at the Arby’s out by Mitre Road?”

Jenner slung his scene kit over his shoulder. “Sure.”

The detective gestured grandly out beyond the open garage shutters to the parking lot. “The adventure begins!”