Page 28 of Ground Truth

“Right. That’s the plan,” Flint said. “Show me.”

“Okay. But don’t touch anything. Follow me,” he said, opening the door and slipping through to the main part of the building where it was hotter and louder than the small lobby.

The bulk of the open space was occupied by three large industrial furnaces currently in operation. There were shelves on either side of each furnace.

On one side, shelves were stocked with coffins in various states of decomposition. On the other side, the shelves stocked uniformly sized, white cardboard boxes, about nine inches by six inches by four inches.

Flint imagined that the small boxes held about three to nine pounds of mostly bone fragments swept from the chamber after the cremation was completed.

The ashes would be put into an urn and returned to the families.

“How long does the cremation take?” Scarlett asked.

“Usually about three hours, give or take,” he replied. “Depends on the size of the body and how hot the chamber is. We usually run at eighteen hundred degrees, which is a couple hundred less than the max recommended.”

“What’s the rest of the process?” Scarlett asked.

“We wait until the body cools afterward. Then we remove any metal from the ashes and put them into those boxes.” Nick nodded toward the shelves. “Then we return them to the funeral home where they’re put into the urn the family selected.”

“What will you do with Marilyn Baker’s ashes since she has no family to return them to?” Scarlett asked.

“We bury the ashes in a mass grave if no one claims them,” Nick explained solemnly.

He’d reached the shelves on the left side of one of the big furnaces. Checking his clipboard, he put his dusty finger on the case number. Then he moved to one of the bottom shelves and squatted down to run his hand across the square boxes until he found the one he wanted.

Nick checked the number on the clipboard and compared it to the label again. Then he looked up at Flint. “This box is the remains of Marilyn Baker.”

Flint knelt down and grabbed the box. He lifted it and paced to a nearby table, where he set the box carefully. Then he pulled out his phone and snapped photos of all sides, taking special care with shots of the seals and labels.

Flint glanced toward Scarlett.

She moved closer to Nick and lowered her voice, putting an arm around his shoulders and turning him away from Flint. “Nick, we think Marilyn Baker may be my friend’s mother.”

“Really?”

Scarlett lowered her voice further and Nick leaned his head down to hear. “To know for sure, we plan to test the DNA, like you said.”

“That would be best.”

“But we really need to take this box.”

Nick nodded. “I’d love to give it to you. I just can’t.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to help us out?” Her husky voice was seductive and intentionally flirty.

“I’m really sorry,” Nick replied sincerely.

Scarlett looked toward Flint. He moved the box back to its place on the shelves.

She shrugged. “Okay, Nick. We’ll get a court order and come back.”

“Courts are kinda slow.” Nick offered Flint an apologetic nod again. “I’ll hold the remains for a couple of days. Give you a little time. That’s the best I can do.”

“That’s good of you.” Flint extended his hand and shook on the deal.

“I appreciate your understanding, Mr. Flint,” Nick said, leading the way back to the lobby, where he stood until his phone rang just before they left the building.

When he picked up, he said, “Frazier’s.”

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