necromancer at that. The reporters will have a field day with this."

necromancer at that. The reporters will have a field day with this."

"Oh, shit," said Loomis. "Where is she?"

"Waiting over by my unit," said the cop. "I'm sorry about this, Lieutenant, I don't know how she got here

so fast."

"She's got a police band radio and a fast horse, that's how," said Loomis with a grimace. "Fuck. I guess

I'd better talk to her. Maybe I can reason with her."

"WithFairchild ?"

"Yeah, well, the cat's out of the bag, but what the hell, it's worth a shot. Meanwhile, see if you can get a

hold of Ramirez over at the college. If he's not there, try his home."

"I'll get right on it."

Loomis walked a short distance from the riverbank, stepped over the lines marking off the area, ropes

with signs on them that said, "Crime Scene, Do Not Cross," and headed toward the three squad cars

parked on the road.

An attractive woman with shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair was leaning against one of them,

smoking a cigarette. She was about forty, though she looked younger, and she was dressed in faded

jeans, high-heeled western boots, a lightweight flannel shirt, and a khaki canvas-cloth photographer's vest

with multiple pockets. She had a camera slung on a strap around her neck and a photographer's bag over

her shoulder. Loomis saw the small portable police band radio poking up out of the bag and scowled.

Her lathered horse was standing just behind the car, the reins looped over the door handle.

"Hello, Ginny," Loomis said.

"I know what you're going to say, Joe, and the answer is no," she replied, dragging on her cigarette and

looking, Loomis thought, like a cross between a war correspondent and Annie Oakley.

"Come on, Ginny, be reasonable. Your editor's not going to publish photos like that. It's too gruesome.

You work for a respectable paper."

"That's not the point, Joe. I don't want to see these photos published any more than you do. I'm not

some yellow journalist who goes around looking for pictures of dead babies. But if the department denies

my story and I'm accused of fabricating the whole thing, I need to have something to back it up."

"Can we talk about this?"

"Sure. We can talk. Want to answer some questions about your cover-up?"

"Cover-up is a pretty harsh term, Ginny."

"What would you call it?"