Make No Bones (27 page)

He nodded his approval. “Could be. I never thought of that.”

“But you notice that none of the teeth—the only parts that could prove it wasn’t who it was supposed to be—happened to catch on the bush, did they? No, they were nowhere to be found.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You used to be such a nice, unsuspecting type. When did your mind start working like this?”

“Well, it didn’t before I met you, that’s for sure.”

Just before Port Angeles they rounded a broad curve that opened into a stupendous view of the Olympics, looking up the wide, densely treed Elwha River Valley to the vertical green wall of Klahane Ridge in the national park; Julie’s turf.

“Isn’t it good to be home?” she said with a sigh. “My God, what a week. WAFA will never live it down.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s one good thing to be said for it. Aside from wildly increased registration in 1993, I mean.”

“What would that be?”

He laughed. “I don’t imagine they’re going to have any problem picking the wildest, weirdest case of the last ten years.”