“Yeah, but LW did send three of them on a field trip to obtain supplies at one point. Bob could have slipped back to his tent then, maybe for a change of clothes.”

“I guess it’s possible. You want tops or bottoms?” asked Riley.

Nick grinned. “I’ll take anything above the waist.”

“So I get socks and underwear? Lucky, lucky me.”

Grissom studied the recorded interview with the man who’d called himself Roberto Quadros. On-screen, he was leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Nick Stokes, calling the entire process an outrage.

Defensive posturing. The larvae of the elephant hawk moth mimicking a snake about to strike.

“I didn’t come here for the hedonism, Mr. Stokes,” the imposter said.

Many insect species die after mating.

“I came for the intellectual stimulation provided by an exchange of ideas between men and women like myself…”

What was it he said to me when we first met? “We study arthropods, do we not? The biological equivalent of machines. They have no psychology, no culture, no advanced cognitive functions. Seeing them through the filter of h uman experience does nothing but distort data.” Were you really talking about insects? Or was that your opinion of the human race?

He watched the interview through to the end, then went back to something Quadros had said near the beginning.

“-at the very least Dr. Grissom could have talked to me himself.”

He froze the image. Quadros had looked directly into the camera when he said it, knowing full well that at some point Grissom would be staring back.

Was that a trace of a smile hidden behind his bushy white beard?

“Think I’ve got something,” said Riley.

Nick put down the T-shirt he’d been examining. “Fibers?”

“Yes. White, and very fine. They’re all over the cuffs of these jeans.”

Nick walked around to her side of the light table to take a better look. “Those don’t look like they came from an animal. Could be plant matter.”

“Well, you’re the fiber expert.”

“So they say. I’ll check it against the database.”

“You mind if I do it?”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “No, go ahead. I do something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just-you track down a fiber, it’s business as usual. I do it-” She stopped.

“You do it, Grissom might notice. Funny, I didn’t think you much cared what Grissom thinks.”

“He’s my superior-of course I care w hat he thinks. And this isn’t about sucking up, either. I just want him to see that I’m competent.”

Nick smiled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. If there’s one thing Grissom notices, it’s how the job gets done. Just don’t expect a lot of hearts and flowers-getting a ‘good work’ from Grissom is like three cheers and a parade from anyone else.”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine. Let me know what you find on those fibers.”

This time, she smiled back.

In the end, Riley turned to Wendy Simms.

“Hey, Riley,” said Wendy. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Riley handed her the sample of the fibers she’d collected from the jeans. “I do. This.”

“Fibers? I do DNA.”

“I know. But these are plant fibers; I’ve searched through every botanical database I can find and can’t get a match through physical characteristics alone. I’m hoping you can ID it for me.”

“Well, plants have genes just like all living organisms. As long as this particular species is on file, I should be able to track it down.”

Riley noticed Hodges in a corner of the lab, hunched over a piece of paper and muttering to himself. “No, no, that’s too big…”

“What’s Hodges doing?” asked Riley. “I’ve never heard him talk to himself before.”

Wendy sighed. “Oh, you will. But he usually only does it when in the throes of creativity.”

“What’s he creating?”

“I’m not sure. But he asked me for my measure-ments-including hat size-so I’m a little worried.”

“I can hear you, you know,” said Hodges.

Riley and Wendy looked at each other, then approached Hodges together. He quickly turned over the large sheet of paper he’d been working on.

“Are those crayons?” said Wendy.

“Pencil crayons,” said Hodges. “I was working on the color scheme. I was originally going to go with something that went with your eyes, but then I realized nobody’d be able to see your eyes anyway…”

“Do I even want to know?” said Wendy.

“It’s still in the planning stages,” said Hodges. “But maybe I need a female perspective; fashion isn’t really my thing. Tell me what you think-but sign these first.” He handed each of them a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” asked Riley, scanning it.

“A nondisclosure agreement. Standard boilerplate, just says you won’t talk to anyone else about what I’m going to show you.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, pulled out a pen, and signed it. R iley shrugged and did the same.

“Okay,” said Hodges. “Now, give me your gut- level first impression of both of these.” He held up two large sheets of paper in front of him. “I’m calling the one on the left Trudy Transfer and the one on the right Buddy Bloodspatter.”

Wendy blinked. Riley frowned.

“Trudy seems like she’d be cold,” said Wendy. “Even though she’s covered in… What is all that stuff? It looks as if she was practicing Dumpster diving in a bikini.”

“Well, it’s all kinds of things. Paper, fabric, bodily fluids-”

“And why’s her head so big?”

“Because it’s made out of foam rubber. It’ll be lightweight, with oversize eyes and a biiiiig smile. Very anime-just in case our new owners are Japanese.”

Wendy crumpled the NDA into a little ball and threw it at him. “For the last time, Hodges-the lab isn’t being sold. Don’t you have real work to do?”

“Actually,” said Riley, “I kind of like the other one. What’s that big necklace he’s wearing, though?”

“DNA,” said Hodges. “I know, I know. But you try drawing a double helix and making it both accurate and artistic.”

“Got a result on those fibers for you,” said Wendy.

Riley looked up from the file she’d been scrolling through. “Yeah? What is it?”

“If you were a cat, you wouldn’t have to ask . ”

“Catnip?”

“Not quite. It’s Teucrium marum, a plant commonly known as cat thyme. Some cats react to it the same way they do catnip.”

“Where’s it grow?”

“Well, it’s native to Spain and the western Mediterranean but does well in dry, sandy soil with a lot of sun-so it wouldn’t be hard to grow it here. Maybe your guy’s a cat lover.”

Riley frowned. “Maybe.”

She sat and thought about it after Wendy left. Somehow, she couldn’t see the Bug Killer cozying up to a purring tabby-it didn’t fit his modus operandi at all. So what was the connection?

She turned back to the file she’d been reading. It was the arrest record of Robert Ermine, who it seemed hadn’t been entirely successful in his career as Buffet Bob. In fact, he’d been arrested five times and barred from at least a dozen places.

She wondered how the Bug Killer had chosen him. Had he trolled the homeless corridor, looking for subjects who fit a particular profile, or had he viewed his workers as interchangeable drones? Had all of his choices worked out, or had there been rejects? If there had been, some of them might still have valuable information.

Riley had always had good instincts as a street cop. Right now, t hey were telling her that someone out there had talked to the mysterious LW and could be persuaded to talk to her.

She printed out a picture of Roberto Quadros and headed downtown.

Riley talked to half a dozen homeless men and women before she found one who seemed to recognize the photo of Quadros.