Fatal Voyage Read Free

glass in old Coke bottles. Highlighted by orange lashes and brows,

and set against the tawny skin, the pale green was extraordinary. I guessed her age at around

forty.
     “And you are?” The voice was deep and gravelly, and suggested its owner

wanted no nonsense.
     “Dr. Temperance Brennan.”
     “And you have reason to be at this site?”
     “I’m with DMORT.”
     Again the ID. She studied the card and handed it back.
     “I heard a crash bulletin while driving fromCharlotte toKnoxville .
     When I phoned Earl Bliss, who’s leader of the Region Four team, he

asked me to divert over, see if you need anything.“
     A bit more diplomatic than Earl’s actual comments.
     For a moment the woman did not reply. Then she turned back to the

firefighters, spoke a few words, and the men dispersed. Closing the gap between us, she held out

her hand. The grip could injure.
     “Lucy Crowe.”
     “Please call meTempe .”
     She spread her feet, crossed her arms, and regarded me with the

Coke-bottle eyes.
     “I don’t believe any of these poor souls will be needing medical

attention.”
     “I’m a forensic anthropologist, not a medical doctor. You’ve searched

for survivors?”
     She nodded with a single upward jerk of her head, the type of gesture

I’d seen inIndia . “I thought something like this would be the ME’s baby.”
     “It’s everybody’s baby. Is the NTSB here yet?” I knew the National

Transportation Safety Board never took long to arrive.
     “They’re coming. I’ve heard from every agency on the planet. NTSB, FBI,

atf., Red Cross, FAA, Forest Service, TVA, Department of the Interior. I wouldn’t be surprised if

the pope himself came riding over Wolf Knob there.”
     “Interior and TVA?”
     “The feds own most of this county; about eighty-five percent as

national forest, five percent as reservation.” She extended a hand at shoulder level, moved it in

a clockwise circle. “We’re on what’s called Big Laurel.BrysonCity ‘s off to the northwest,Great

Smoky MountainsNational Park ’s beyond that. The Cherokee Indian Reservation lies to the north,

theNantahalaGameLand and National Forest to the south.”
     I swallowed to relieve the pressure inside my ears.
     “What’s the elevation here?”
     “We’re at forty-two hundred feet.”
     “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, Sheriff, but there are a

few folks you might want to keep out.”
     “The insurance man and the snake-bellied lawyer. Lucy Crowe may live on

a mountain, but she’s been off it once or twice.”
     I didn’t doubt that. I was also certain that no one gave lip to Lucy

Crowe.
     “Probably good to keep the press out, too.”
     “Probably.”
     “You’re right about the ME, Sheriff. He’ll be here. But theNorth

Carolina emergency plan, calls for DMORT involvement for a major.”
     I heard a muffled boom, followed by shouted orders. Crowe removed her

hat and ran the back of her sleeve across her forehead.
     “How many fires are still burning?”
     “Four. We’re getting them out, but it’s dicey. The mountain’s mighty

dry this time of year.” She tapped the hat against a thigh as muscular as her shoulders.
     “I’m sure your crews are doing their best. They’ve secured the area and

they’re dealing with the fires. If there are no survivors, there’s nothing else to be done.”
     “They’re not really trained for this kind of thing.”
     Over Crowe’s shoulder an old man in a Cherokee Volunteer PD jacket

poked through a pile of debris. I decided on tact.
     “I’m sure you’ve told your people that crash scenes must be treated

like crime scenes. Nothing should be disturbed.”
     She gave her peculiar down-up nod.
     “They’re probably feeling frustrated, wanting to be useful but unsure

what to do. A reminder never hurts.”
     I indicated the poker.
     Crowe swore softly, then crossed to the volunteer, her