"I said you're acting strange lately." He turned, facing her. "You performed the autopsy in the middle of the night?"

"I'm sorry you find that strange, but I have two jobs to do, not just what I do for you." He tried to stop her but she continued. "In case you've forgotten, I have a full patient load at the clinic in addition to what I do at the morgue. Patients, by the way"-she checked her watch, not really noting the time-"that I have to start seeing in a few minutes." She tucked her hands into her hips. "Was there a reason you came by?"

"To check on you," he said. "Obviously you're all right. I guess that should come as no surprise to me. You're always all right."

"That's right."

"Sara Linton, stronger than steel."

Sara gave what she hoped was a condescending look. They had played out this scene so many times around the time of their divorce that she could recite both sides of the argument by heart. Sara was too independent. Jeffrey was too demanding.

She said, "I have to go."

"Wait a minute," he said. "The report?"

"I faxed it to you."

It was his turn to put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I got that. You think you found something?"

"Yes," she answered, then, "No." She crossed her arms defensively. She hated when he downshifted from an argument into something to do with work. It was a cheap trick, and it always caught her off guard. She recovered somewhat, saying, "I need to hear back on the blood this morning. Nick Shelton is supposed to call me at nine, then I can tell you something." She added, "I wrote this on the cover page for my report."

"Why did you rush the blood?" he asked.

"Gut feeling," Sara answered. That was all she was prepared to give him at this moment. Sara did not like to go on half pieces of information. She was a doctor, not a fortune-teller. Jeffrey knew this.

"Take me through it," he said.

Sara folded her arms, not wanting to do this. She glanced back up the stairs to make sure no one was listening. "You read the report," she said.

"Please," he said. "I want to hear it from you."

Sara leaned against the wall. She closed her eyes for a brief second, not to help her recall the facts, but to give herself some distance from what she knew.

She began, "She was attacked on the toilet. She was probably easily subdued because of her blindness and the surprise element. I think he cut her early on, lifting her shirt, making the cross with his knife. The cut to her belly came early. It's not deep enough for full penetration. I think he inserted his penis more to defile her than anything else. He then raped her vaginally, which would explain the excrement I found there. I'm not sure if he climaxed. I don't imagine climax would be the issue for him."

"You think it's more about defiling her?"

She shrugged. Many rapists had some sort of sexual dysfunction. She didn't see why it would be any different with this one. The gut rape practically pointed it out.

She said, "Maybe it's the thrill of doing it in a semipublic place. Even though the lunch rush was over, someone could have come in and caught him."

He scratched his chin, obviously letting himself absorb this.

"Anything else?"

"Can you clear some time to come by?" he asked. "I can set up a briefing at nine-thirty."

"A full briefing?"

He shook his head. "I don't want anybody to know about that," he ordered, and for the first time in a long while, she was in complete agreement with him.

She said, "That's fine."

"Can you come in around nine-thirty?" he repeated.

Sara ran through her morning. Jimmy Powell's parents would be in her office at eight. Going from one horrible meeting to another would probably make her day easier. What's more, she knew that the sooner she briefed the detectives on Sibyl Adams's autopsy results, the sooner they could go out and find the man who had killed her.

"Yeah," she said, walking toward the stairs. "I'll be there."

"Wait a minute," he said. "Lena's going to be there, too."

Sara turned around, shaking her head. "No way. I'm not going to give a blow-by-blow of Sibyl's death in front of her sister."

"She has to be there, Sara. Trust me on this." He must have gathered her thoughts from the look she gave him. He said, "She wants the details. It's how she deals with things. She's a cop."

"It's not going to be good for her."

"She's made her decision," he repeated. "She'll get the facts one way or another, Sara. It's better she gets the truth from us than read whatever lies they put in the paper." He paused, probably seeing he still had not changed her mind. "If it was Tessa, you would want to know what happened."

"Jeffrey," Sara said, feeling herself relent despite her better judgment. "She doesn't need to remember her sister this way."

He shrugged. "Maybe she does."

At a quarter till eight in the morning, Grant County was just waking up. A sudden overnight rain had washed the pollen out of the streets, and though it was still cool out, Sara drove her BMW Z3 with the top down. The car had been purchased during a postdivorce crisis when Sara had needed something to make herself feel better. It had worked for about two weeks, then the stares and the comments about the flashy car had made her feel a bit ridiculous. This was not the kind of car to drive in a small town, especially since Sara was a doctor, and not just a doctor but a pediatrician. Had she not been born and raised in Grant, Sara suspected she would have been forced to sell the car or lose half her patients at the clinic. As it was, she had to put up with the constant comments from her mother about how ridiculous it was for a person who barely managed to coordinate her wardrobe to drive a flashy sports car.

Sara tossed a wave to Steve Mann, the owner of the hardware store, as she drove toward the clinic. He waved back, a surprised smile on his face. Steve was married with three kids now, but Sara knew he still had a crush on her in that way that first loves tend to hold on. As her first real boyfriend, Sara had a fondness for him, but nothing more than that. She remembered those awkward moments she spent as a teenager, being groped in the back of Steve's car. How she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye the day after they had first had sex.

Steve was the kind of guy who was happy to set his roots down in Grant, who cheerfully went from being the star quarterback at Robert E. Lee High School to working with his father in the hardware store. At that age, Sara had wanted nothing more than to get out of Grant, to go to Atlanta and live a life that was more exciting, more challenging, than what her home town could offer. How she ended up back here was as much a mystery to Sara as anyone else.

She kept her eyes straight ahead as she passed the diner, not wanting to be reminded of yesterday afternoon. She was so intent on avoiding that side of the street that she nearly ran into Jeb McGuire as he walked in front of the pharmacy.

Sara pulled alongside him, apologizing, "I'm sorry."

Jeb laughed good-naturedly as he jogged over to her car. "Trying to get out of our date tomorrow?"

"Of course not," Sara managed, forcing a smile onto her face. With all that had happened yesterday, she had completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. She had dated Jeb off and on when he first moved to Grant eleven years ago and bought the town's pharmacy. Nothing serious had ever developed between them, and things had pretty much cooled between them by the time Jeffrey came along. Why she had agreed to start dating him again after all this time, Sara could not say.

Jeb pushed his hair back off his forehead. He was a lanky man with a runner's build. Tessa had once compared his body to Sara's greyhounds. He was good-looking, though, and certainly did not have to look far to find a woman who would go out with him.