"All four of them?"

"I don't think so. That trail's hardly wide enough for one grown man, but they looked below, too."

"Three men looked around there?"

"I think maybe one." Quickly he added, "Wasn't much point in looking down there. The shot couldn't have been fired from there, not and hit anyone. You couldn't have seen him from below, not until you got up to the ledge."

"All right. How about on the side of the ledge, where the main trail starts to climb?"

"We looked there, too."

"How many men looked there?"

"I don't remember."

"Could it have been just one man?"

"Objection," Tony said.

"The witness has said he doesn't remember."

"Sustained."

She got him to admit that the bullet they had recovered had been so badly deformed, with just fragments remaining, that it could not be stated with absolute certainty that Nell Kendricks's rifle had fired it.

"And you went to her house where you found her rifle.

Where was it?"

"On the couch in the living room."

"And sh.e.l.ls?"

"On a table by it. A box about half full."

"I see. So you examined the rifle, looked for fingerprints?"

"Yes, Ma'am. There weren't any prints, just a few smudges."

"Did you find that strange?"

"I didn't think of it one way or the other, I guess. There was a towel on the couch. I guess I just thought she wiped it off."

"Oh? You a.s.sumed that at the time?"

He looked confused for a moment. "I just didn't think anything of it," he said then.

"What about the box of sh.e.l.ls? Did you examine that for fingerprints?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Smudges, that's all."

"And did you think anything about that?"

"Objection, Your Honor," Tony said. He sounded bored.

"What the witness thought at the time has no bearing on the facts."

"Sustained."

"You found a backpack on the ledge and a wallet in Lucas Kendrick's pocket. Was there anything about the contents of the wallet that you found strange?" Sheriff Gray flushed slightly.

"His driver's license expired in 1982. I guess that was strange."

"Yes, I think so. How about credit cards?"

"Two. They expired, too."

"In 1982?"

"Yes."

"Did you look for a car?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Why not?"

"I didn't see one at the head of the trail, and I guess we just took it for granted that he walked in."

"Did you know Lucas Kendricks?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Do you know Nell Kendricks?"

"No, Ma'am." "Yet, you said in your direct testimony that you got the call about Lucas Kendricks and you headed straight out to the old Dorcas place. Did you know Nell Kendricks's maiden name was Dorcas?"

"Your Honor, I object! I can't see the relevance of any of this!"

"Ms. Holloway, is there any relevance here?"

"Yes, Your Honor.

"Did this witness know that Lucas Kendricks had been away for seven years? I think that is relevant to his investigation."

Judge Kendall Lundgren nodded slightly and said to the sheriff, "You may answer the question."

"Yes, I knew who she was. And I knew he had been gone a lot of years."

"But you guessed that he had walked in? Is that what you're telling us?"

"Yes."

She turned away from him for the first time in many minutes. The jury was following closely, and Tony no longer looked bored.

"Did you know where his car was, Sheriff?" she asked, and watched a muscle move in Tony's jaw as he stood up swiftly to object.

"Your Honor, objection. Where the car was has no relevance, nor does the fact that the sheriff knew or did not know its whereabouts."

"I agree," Judge Lundgren said.

"Sustained. Ms. Holloway, please confine your questions to the scope of this trial."

"No further questions," she said quietly, and resumed her seat to listen to Tony undo some of what she had done.

He took the sheriff over the marks on the rocks and got him to state that bullets tumble erratically at times, especially after going through bones. She had expected Tony's line of argument, and he well knew that she had her own expert witness to call to dispute what the sheriff was saying.

And so it goes, she thought. Nothing unforeseen, everything in order, as predictable as movements in a stately dance in rhythm with unheard music. What no one could foretell was when the music would become discordant, when a false note would break the rhythm, or even if that false note had already been played, if the ripples already were forming, the pattern already altered irretrievably.

John and Amy Kendricks left the courtroom when Tony began questioning the medical examiner about the body of their son. Nell was the color of chalk, and after the first question she bowed her head and kept her gaze on the table before her. She did not move again. Barbara had known Dr. Emerson Riley for a long time; he was her father's age, but not yet retired. A gentle man, a beekeeper by hobby, and scrupulously fair, he treated each case in which he was called exactly like all others; for him justice was completely blind.

"So the bullet entered here," Tony said, pointing to a picture that showed a line drawing of a head with the path of the bullet in a thick black line.

"And it exited here.

Almost a straight line."

Dr. Emerson Riley held up his hand.

"May I correct you, sir?"

"Of course."

"We cannot be certain of the exit; the damage was too intensive. As I stated, we can only estimate from the trajectory that we are certain about, how it continued."

Tony inclined his head.

"Thank you, Doctor. Now if the victim had his head lowered even a little, this much--" he tilted the drawing so that the heavy black line was al most horizontal, then a bit more so that it now was slanting upward instead of down "we could account for the trajectory, couldn't we?"

Barbara heard her father's breath and knew he would be objecting by now, but she made no motion.

Dr. Riley glanced at her before answering, then said, "Yes, you could say that."

"Or if he was kneeling tying his shoelace, for example that trajectory would fit the situation. Is that correct?"

Again there was a very slight pause; again Barbara made no movement. The doctor said that was so.

Tony was finished with him quickly. There was a glint of malice in his eyes when he pa.s.sed Barbara on his way to his chair.

"Dr. Riley," she began, "it is possible that I could describe a number of positions that would account for the trajectory of that bullet, isn't it?"

"Yes. Of course." . "Tracing the trajectory of a bullet through a human body is a fairly exact science, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Yes. Exactly what can you tell about the position of the victim before the bullet strikes?"

"Nothing. If all we have is a body with a wound, we can't tell a thing about the position before the wound was inflicted."

"Thank you. Doctor. Was Lucas Kendricks in good health as far as you could ascertain from your autopsy?"

"Yes, he was. But he was dehydrated."

"Dehydrated. He had not been drinking enough fluids?"

"That's right."

"For how long? Could you tell that?"

"I would say more than one day, but not more than a week." He talked about the condition of the kidneys and the blood in terms that Barbara knew were too technical, but she did not interfere. He had said what she wanted.

"So he had been eating things like trail mix and dried fruits and had not been drinking enough water for a number of days. What else did you observe about his body?"

"His feet were badly blistered. Some of the blisters were infected."

"And can you estimate how old any of those blisters were?"

"Some about five days, maybe four, some brand-new."

"I see. And what conclusion do you draw from your observations, Doctor?"

He shrugged slightly.

"The man had been hiking for four or five days in improper clothing without enough food or water."

"Improper clothing? What do you mean?"

"Wrong kind of boots. No change of socks. Cotton socks with threadbare heels and toes. Just not dressed for a long hike."

Barbara nodded and walked toward the defense table, where she turned and asked, "Were there any traces of any drugs in the body?"

"None."

"Not just illegal drugs, but medications?"

"Nothing."

"How tall was he. Doctor?"