A name. She wants to give him a name. And that means identifying the body. Her gaze returns to the bones, vision blurred with tears now. The policeman's uniform is very well preserved, and it's nothing to slip her hand under his lapel and retrieve the small red folder. His warrant card. She wipes it clean with gentle fingers, and opens it.

The name within makes her heart sink even farther.

It makes no sense. No sense at all. This can't be right.