DEAD HUNT
A DIANE FALLON FORENSIC INVESTIGATION
BEVERLY CONNOR
Praise for the novels of Beverly Connor
‘‘Calls to mind the forensic mysteries of Aaron Elkins and Patricia Cornwell. However, Connor’s sleuth infuses the mix with her own brand of spice as a pert and brainy scholar in the forensic analysis of bones.... Chases, murder attempts, and harrowing rescues add to this fast-paced adventure.’’ —Chicago Sun-Times
‘‘Connor combines smart people, fun people, and dangerous people in a novel hard to put down.’’ —The Dallas Morning News
‘‘Connor grabs the reader with her first sentence and never lets up until the book’s end....The story satisfies both as a mystery and as an entre´e into the fascinating world of bones. . . . Add Connor’s dark humor, and you have a multidimensional mystery that deserves comparison with the best of Patricia Cornwell.’’
—Booklist (starred review)
‘‘In Connor’s latest multifaceted tale, the plot is serpentine, the solution ingenious, the academic politics vicious... chock-full of
and archeological detail.’’
engrossing anthropological
—Publishers Weekly
‘‘Connor’s books are a smart blend of Patricia Cornwell, Aaron Elkins, and Elizabeth Peters, with some good deep-South atmosphere to make it authentic.’’
—Oklahoma Family Magazine
‘‘Crisp dialogue, interesting characters, fascinating tidbits of bone lore, and a murderer that eluded me. When I started reading, I couldn’t stop. What more could you ask for? Enjoy.’’
—Virginia Lanier, author of the Bloodhound series
‘‘Beverly Connor has taken the dry bones of scientific inquiry and resurrected them into living, breathing characters. I couldn’t put [it] down until I was finished, even though I wanted to savor the story. I predict that Beverly Connor will become a major player in the field of mystery writing.’’
—David Hunter, author of The Dancing Savior
‘‘Fans of... Patricia Cornwell will definitely want to read Beverly Connor . . . an author on the verge of superstardom.’’ —Midwest Book Review
‘‘Connor’s breathtaking ability to dish out fascinating forensic details while maintaining a taut aura of suspense is a real gift.’’ —Romantic Times, Top Pick
ALSO BY BEVERLY CONNOR
DEAD PAST
DEAD SECRET
DEAD GUILTY
ONE GRAVE TOO MANY
DEAD HUNT
A DIANE FALLON FORENSIC INVESTIGATION
BEVERLY CONNOR
In memory of Dixie Lee Connor and Charles C. Connor, Sr.
Chapter 1
It wasn’t the sound of the steel doors clanging shut behind her that bothered Diane Fallon about the prison, or the flashing red lights, or the blare of highpitched horns that screamed their warnings when the doors were unlocked. It was the smell, like no other— the accumulated odor of hundreds of women caged for years in close quarters.
Greysfort Maximum Security Prison for Women looked clean—the gray-green walls were freshly painted, and the tile floor of similar color was so highly polished that Diane could see her reflection as she walked down the hallway to the interview room. But bad odors always come through, and even the pine scent of disinfectant in the air carried with it the smell of urine and feces.
Diane was accustomed to the unpleasant odors of death. They held useful information. But she didn’t have to live with those odors as the prisoners and guards did here. The thought of it was depressing.
A guard opened the door for her and motioned toward a plain gray metal chair next to a table on the visitor side of the interview room. Another dull graygreen room.
The room was divided by a thick screen of wire so finely woven that only the tips of fingers might fit through the holes. Diane stood waiting beside the chair. She looked at her wrist, momentarily forgetting that she had been required to leave her watch outside.
Several long minutes passed.
Diane glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. It reminded her of a school clock—large and round, black hands and numbers on a white face. It clicked quietly as the sweep hand ticked off the seconds. Depressing. This was a place where time crept by.
She needed to be at the museum putting out the fire that was igniting all the local media. Why had she agreed to come here? The prosecution hadn’t wanted her to. Nor had the detectives on the case. Frankly, she hadn’t wanted to come.
It was not the first time she’d received a letter from an inmate put in prison by evidence processed by her lab. The letters were always long and often full of excuses and accusations. This one had been short and almost cordial. Three sentences.
Dr. Fallon,
I know the last thing you want to do is respond to my letter, but there is something I need to tell you. I’m asking that you please visit me. I will understand if you can’t.
Clymene O’Riley
Diane had almost filed it away without responding. Instead she called the lead detective in the case and left a message. It was the district attorney who called back.
‘‘Out of the question,’’ he’d shouted before she even said anything. His manner always irritated her, even during the trial. She had to keep reminding herself that they were on the same side. DA Riddmann. He had used his name to good effect during his election campaign.
‘‘What is out of the question?’’ Diane had asked, though she knew the answer.
‘‘Visiting O’Riley. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?’’
‘‘No. What made you think that?’’ she asked. He had caught her in a bad mood.
‘‘Detective Malone said . . . I just assumed . . . ’’ He stopped. ‘‘What did you want?’’
Nothing from you, she thought. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to discourage a headache. ‘‘I called Detective Malone to ask if he knew what Clymene might be up to.’’
He paused for several seconds. ‘‘I don’t know. I’ve expected her to file an appeal. So much of the case was circumstantial.’’
He said it in such a way as to imply that Diane and her team had failed to provide convincing evidence. They hadn’t.
‘‘What did the letter say?’’ he asked.
Diane read it to him.
‘‘Short,’’ he said. ‘‘You think maybe she wants to confess?’’
‘‘I doubt it,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Not to me.’’
‘‘Of course it’s the warden’s call, but I would prefer you not to go,’’ he said after another long pause.
‘‘I have no intention of going. I only wanted to pass along the information and get an informed guess as to why she wrote me.’’
When Diane hung up the phone with the district attorney, she filed the letter and forgot about it. A week later she was sitting in her museum office when Ross Kingsley, a profiler for the FBI, called. She knew Kingsley. When Rosewood police had been frustrated by a particularly gruesome murderer, they had called Kingsley. He had interviewed Diane after the murderer began calling her and sending her flowers.