"What?"

"You said the kids in Argentina were freeze-dried. They weren't," Grand said. "They were frozen."

"What's the difference?"

"Freezing is intense cold," Grand said. "Freeze-drying is intense cold followed immediately by a exposure to a complete vacuum. That one-two hit preserves the object in its frozen state, but without ice. Then the object, whether it's coffee or fruit, can be restored by adding water."

"Which makes it easier to store or ship than something that's frozen," Hannah said. "Okay. What does that have to do with our situation?"

"You asked how the saber-tooths were preserved," Grand went on. "They wouldn't have been exposed to a vacuum but they might have been exposed to intense heat, which can have the same desiccating effect. When anything is burned, the water content vaporizes first, then the vessel itself disintegrates. But I wonder what would have happened if the biological matter were preserved in the nanosecond before the heat destroyed the shell."

"You mean the water is evaporated but the heat dies before the animal does?" Hannah asked.

"Yes."

"Is that possible?"

"In theory."

"That doesn't help us."

"It might," Grand said. "One of the reasons scientists have always assumed there was no volcanism in Southern California is because we don't have calderas here-volcanic craters. But I saw volcanic vents down there. So there definitely was lava flow."

"So you're saying-what?"

"Vents without calderas. That means the eruptions occurred somewhere else. Somewhere there might also be glaciation. Intense heat, intense cold. The one-two punch."

They fell silent. Hannah felt like her body had been mugged; she was suddenly very aware of the warmth from the heater, the heaviness of her arms, and the weight of her eyelids.

"Are you thinking?" Hannah asked.

Grand said he was.

"Good. Because my brain just shut down."

"Hannah, are you on line back at the apartment?"

"Yes. Why?"

"There's something I want to check," he said urgently. "Something that may explain the cats and a painting I saw."

Chapter Fifty-Five

Grand and Hannah entered the spacious, high-ceilinged living room of her condominium. While Hannah booted her computer on the dining room table, Grand went to the second phone line, which was located in the bedroom. He stood beside the night table and punched in Joseph Tumamait's home number. The Chumash elder answered the phone after the first ring.

"Hello, James," Tumamait said.

"How did you know?" Grand asked.

"There is unrest in the spirit world," Tumamait said. "The Great Eagle came to me in dreams. But he was different tonight."

"Different how?"

"The owl was riding his back."

"Meaning?"

"He is not alone."

More riddles. Grand didn't have time for them.

"Joseph, there's unrest in the real world. This is going to sound incredible but there are saber-toothed cats in the mountains. They're responsible for the killings over the past few days."

"The haphaps are returning," Tumamait said calmly.

"I don't believe that these cats are the destroyers," Grand said. "I've been with them. There's no cruelty in the creatures. If there were, they'd have been kings of the earth."

"Instead of us," Tumamait said.

Hannah appeared in the doorway; Grand held up a finger.

"Sheriff Gearhart is going after the cats with the intent to kill," Grand said. "He's doing this now, tonight I want to save them but I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"This is an environmental issue. Call people at Fish and Game, people on the state level. Try and get them to intervene."

"They don't always listen to me."

"Joseph, we have to try. Please."

"Of course," Tumamait said. "And what are you going to do?"

"Try and learn more about the animals," Grand said. "Figure out where they're going and try to get there ahead of Gearhart."

"All right," Tumamait said. "Good luck."

Grand thanked him and hung up. He walked over to Hannah.

"Joseph Tumamait?" she asked.

Grand nodded.

"Interesting man," she said. "I should have realized you'd know him."

"He was my mentor in college. We went on a lot of digs together."

"Is he going to help?"

"He said he would," Grand said.

"Good," she said. "I'll interview him in the morning. We'll talk about exterminating a race. It will have more meaning coming from him."

That was true, the scientist thought. It scared him a little, the way Hannah knew how to spin things. He worked with facts-just facts.

He looked at Hannah. She had gotten out of her wet clothes, pulled on a white bathrobe, and looked very cozy. She also looked smaller somehow. In need of protection?

"I hope you don't mind the informality," she said, pulling the robe a little tighter. "I was cold and you were in here."

"I don't mind at all," he said.

"I've got another robe in the bathroom, if you want it."

Hannah added. "I keep it here in case I have a guest-like my dad."

"Is it his?"

"No," she said. "It was actually stolen from a hotel by some jerk I was with and then added to my bill."

"Your bill?"

"I paid for all the trips we took," she said. Her mood darkened.

"Actually, I was engaged to the asshole but he was a gold-digger so I dumped him. I keep the robe here to remind me that he was an opportunist and to not make the same mistake again."

"Well, I will take the robe if it's all right," Grand said. "I don't want to mess up your chairs."

"I also put some water on," Hannah told him. "Do you want instant coffee or tea?"

"Coffee," he said. "Black."

Hannah showed him to the bathroom. Grand left his clothes on and slipped the bathrobe over them. He felt wet and stupid. He took the robe off, took his clothes off, then put the robe back on. That felt better but still not right.

To hell with it.

This wasn't the time to be modest. He took the robe off, took a shower, and then put just the robe back on. It might not be appropriate but it was definitely more comfortable.

Grand went back to the living room feeling self-conscious. He was used to being in caves, in dusty fields, and in cluttered surroundings. Not in a woman's home where everything looked clean and coordinated and the chair even felt expensive. He was glad Hannah was still in the kitchen. That gave him a chance to sit in her seat and start typing on the laptop.

He entered the keywords American Ice Age Volcanoes and waited. When the list of topics appeared he began scrolling down.

Hannah returned as he was reading the list. She set a mug of coffee beside the computer and leaned close.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

Grand picked up the mug and took a sip. "Remember the other day at Painted Cave, when I told you about some Chumash art I'd discovered?"

"Yes."

"The paintings showed a volcano and a snow-covered mountain," he said. "There was a serpent in the volcano, which is consistent with Chumash eruption images, but I couldn't figure out why there was a dolphin in the white mountain. The answer may be that it wasn't a mountain."

"What was it?"

Grand found what he was looking for. He clicked on the heading. As the Web site was accessed, he said, "It was a glacier. A volcano and a glacier, side by side."

The site opened. It was an article from Geologue Monthly. The piece was titled, "When Ice and Lava Clashed."

"This could be it," Grand said.

Hannah got behind him. Holding her own mug, she leaned closer to his shoulder, almost to his cheek, and read along with him. Grand knew that for the rest of his life, wherever he was, whoever he was with, when he smelled Lipton he would think of Hannah Hughes and this moment.