Skin of the Wolf by Sam Cabot

findout who, won’t they? And even if it was an employee who came in during working hours so he didn’t have to use his card, it’s still a limited pool.”
    Livia said nothing and carefully avoided looking at Thomas. Katherine seemed to be trying to contain the horror of what had happened, to make it a kind of puzzle, a tragic one to be sure, but one that could be solved. Katherine asked, “Was she seeing anyone at work?”
    Estelle pursed her lips. “She’s dated in-house, yes. Though I don’t really know who. The police asked if anyone stood out, but they don’t, to me. I think partly I have trouble imagining that anyone I actually know might have done something like this.”
    “I— This is all just so awful,” Katherine said. “Father, could you lead us in a prayer? It might help.” Katherine smiled weakly. “I mean, I know it will help me, and I hope it will help her.”
    They bowed their heads and Thomas began. “Eternal rest, oh Father, grant your daughter . . .” The guard, seeing them, removed his hat and bowed his head, also. The prayer was a short one. When it was over, the silence echoed.
    Then the elevator door opened, an oddly mundane event. A tall woman in jeans, leather jacket, and boots strode into the lobby, followed by a smaller, wiry man whose bright eyes threw curious glances everywhere. “Dr. Warner?” The woman spoke to Estelle. “Crime Scene’s done. They’ll be coming down in a minute. The room’s yours.”
    “Thank you, Detective Hamilton. Detectives Hamilton and Framingham, this is Dr. Cochran, Dr. Pietro, and Father Kelly. They’re going to help me with the evaluations.”
    Detective Hamilton, the woman, surveyed the three of them. “Did any of you know the victim?”
    Before anyone could speak the other detective said, “Hey!” Without thinking they turned to him. He snapped their photos on his cell phone and grinned.
    “Thank you,” Detective Hamilton said calmly to the group. “Those will help in the investigation. Now, about the victim?”
    Katherine frowned, then answered, “I met her. With Livia—Dr. Pietro. This afternoon. I don’t know anything about her, though.”
    “Dr. Pietro?”
    “Just that one time.”
    “Father? Did you know her?”
    “No.”
    Detective Framingham nodded happily, as though some suspicion had just been confirmed.
    Hamilton turned to Estelle. “Dr. Warner, let me ask you this. The mask in the box—it’s the most valuable piece up there, am I right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s the first ever to come to market. Masks like that were rumored to exist but no one’s seen one in hundreds of years. Why do you ask?”
    “Everything else that’s damaged seems to be as a result of the struggle, but it looked to me like that box was opened on purpose and set carefully down. As though someone—either the victim or the killer—was examining it.”
    “Brittany may have been looking at it, giving it a final cleaning before . . . we’re supposed to install it tomorrow.” She paused, then said, “Detective, I feel duty-bound to tell you there’s been some dispute at the conference about the mask’s authenticity.”
    “Is that a fact? It’s a fake?”
    “Absolutely not. Its provenance—its history—is inarguable. But because it’s so rare . . . I don’t know what that could possibly have to do with this but I thought you should know.”
    Hamilton nodded. “All right. We might be calling you. Any of you. No one was planning to leave town anytime soon, right?” She swept her gaze over each of them in turn. Livia met her sharp dark eyes, and was surprised to see within them an acuity she recognized. Although rare, the heightened sensitivity commonplace to Noantri did appear occasionally among the Unchanged. In reality it was the senses responding to air currents, to odors, to the way light fell; but in the Unchanged it was most often both incomplete and unexplained. Generally they either considered it some