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mystery.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s over here.” He led me to a portable instrument table that was parked against the wall. The only object on the table was a stainless steel tray with a metal cover. “This was located with the remains.” Terry lifted the cover and set it aside.
    I found myself looking at a scattered arrangement of tiny bones, or—more accurately—what appeared to be tiny bone fragments. Their shapes were unrecognizable. I bent to examine them. “It looks like some kind of small animal. Or a bird.” I straightened. “These were in the grave?”
    â€œYes. Some of the smaller fragments didn’t show up until the crew started sifting the soil removed from the grave.”
    â€œOkay. So … what is it?”
    Terry let my question hang for a second. “A fetus,” he said quietly.
    I blinked. “You mean a human fetus?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOne of them was pregnant?”
    â€œJane Doe.”
    â€œYou’re sure it was her and not Amanda?”
    â€œPositive. The fetal remains were found in her pelvic region.”
    â€œYou said she was significantly decomposed.”
    â€œIn female bodies, the uterus is the last to go.” He looked away. “I wonder if there’s a divine message in that.”
    I ignored his tone-deaf afterthought and asked, “How far along was she?”
    â€œI couldn’t even begin to tell you. Despite a lot of puffed-up claims in the literature, determining gestational age of fetal skeletal remains—as opposed to dating an intact deceased fetus—is still not an exact science.” Terry pointed at a tiny bone artifact that for all I knew could have been part of a sparrow. “This could be the skull. If so, the fetus was maybe eight to ten weeks old. We’ve got a forensic osteologist coming from Atlanta. We’ll have a better idea after she examines it.”
    I went quiet, thinking. “Assuming Jane Doe was the reporter—”
    â€œâ€”someone in her family might have known she was pregnant,” Terry finished. “That would be a pointer, but DNA will tell the tale.”
    As I stared down at the collection of tiny bones, a wave of nausea washed over me.
    Terry was watching me. “Seen enough?”
    I nodded, maybe a bit too quickly. “Yeah.”
    We returned to the anteroom, stripped off our protective gear, and dumped it in the bins. Out in the hallway, I walked beside Terry as we headed back to his office. At least, I started out walking beside him. After a few steps, my knees felt weak. I stopped and leaned against the wall.
    Terry turned. “What’s wrong?”
    I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew what was coming. “Just give me a minute.” I lurched toward the ladies’ restroom.
    Fifteen seconds later, I lost my breakfast.
    *   *   *
    When I returned to Terry’s office, he was standing at his light box, examining an X-ray. He swung around when I entered, took one look at me, and hastened to my side. “Claire! What’s wrong?”
    I really must have looked like hell. I let him help me to his guest chair. I could feel the perspiration beading on my forehead. He pulled a handful of tissues out of a dispenser and passed them to me. He watched as I dabbed at my forehead and upper lip. “You should see a doctor. It looks like you’re getting a fever.”
    â€œI think this will pass. It did last time.”
    â€œLast time? All the more reason to see an MD!”
    â€œYou’re an MD.”
    â€œYeah, but if you end up on my examining table, it’ll be pretty clear you didn’t follow my advice.” He grinned. “Of course, I’d get to see you naked.”
    I managed a wan smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
    His face flushed. “Of course not, like … you know, under those circumstances.” He stumbled over the words.
    I