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DR ROACH ZIPPED the body bag closed and asked her assistants to carry the female victim out to the van Roach was petite, in her forties, wore her thick graying hair in a ponytail and her glasses on a beaded chain

“There was no ID on her,” Dr Roach told me “All I can say is that she looks to be a juvenile, er”

“Not Beam’s wife?”

“The ex–Mrs Bea his cell phone “She’ll be here in a few”

Hanni began a run-through of the fire for our benefit

“The fire started inside the passenger compartment,” he said “Paper and ere piled up in the backseat directly behind the driver And this is a tow chain,” he said of the heavy links lying across the victim’s lap

He pointed to a metal bar down in the driver-side foot well, explained that it was a steering wheel lock, like The Club, and that it had been passed through the chain and locked around the steering column Hanni theorized that first the chains and The Club were locked, then the newspapers and ere doused with gasoline

“Then, probably, the gas was poured over the victied behind the seats —”

“Sorry, folks, but I’ve got to start processing this scene,” Hartnett said, opening his kit “I’ shit from the chief”

“Hang on just a ator I borrowed a pen froht overon Alan Beam’s lap

What kind of e left for us?

The usual fortune cookie nonsense?

Or was hethat e, but all I saere the printed words The New Testa in Latin, not even a na out of the van when Rich said, “Lindsay, check that out”

I went back in for a second look and this ti out froain, I opened the Bible to the bookmark Matthew 3:11

A few lines of text had been underlined in ink