“See,” I said. “You’re good, Red. The offer’s still open. If you want to switch fields — turn anthropologist — let me know.”
She blushed, and she smiled shyly. “Actually,” she said, “I’ve sent in my application.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I’ll look for it. Will I find it filed under R, for Red?”
“No,” she said. “You’ll find it in the Ls. Under Lovelady. Miranda Lovelady. Does this mean I’m in?”
“I’m like the FBI, Miranda,” I said, grinning. “I don’t make promises. But I’ll recommend you to myself. In the strongest possible terms.”
Writer’s Note: On Fact and Fiction
During ten years of writing Body Farm novels, I’ve often noted the blurred boundary — the semi-permeable membrane; the oft-crosssed border — between fact and fiction in the books. Given that the stories are informed by years of Dr. Bill Bass’s forensic casework, how could it be otherwise?
This book is no exception. One factual underpinning is the death of Ann Bass, Bill’s first wife, who died in 1993. Our fictional character Kathleen Brockton is not interchangeable with the late Mrs. Bass, but she obviously shares traits with her, just as Dr. Brockton — who is not exactly interchangeable with Bill Bass — shares many traits in common with him. The specifics of Kathleen’s illness and of Dr. Brockton’s grief are products of my own writerly imagination.
Tragically, the 1991 crash on Otay Mountain that’s mentioned in the book was not a product of my imagination. Country music singer Reba McEntire lost seven musicians and her band’s road manager in the early morning hours of March 16, 1991, when a twin-engine jet — piloted by a crew unfamiliar with the mountainous terrain to the east of San Diego — took off from Brown Field Municipal Airport and slammed into the dark peak of Otay Mountain. Astonishingly, in October 2004, another twin-engine jet — this one an air ambulance — hit the mountainside in the dark, killing the pilots and three medical crew members. After the 2004 crash, the Federal Aviation Administration revised its procedures and charts to reduce the chances of additional collisions with the dark, dangerous terrain lurking to the east of Brown Field.
Four decades ago, Dr. Bass investigated the high-velocity crash of an Air Force plane high in the Great Smoky Mountains, and that case clearly took root somewhere in the nooks and crannies of my mind. But I have a deeper, more personal interest in aviation crashes, too: As an amateur pilot myself, I’ve read numerous NTSB crash-investigation reports, partly in hopes of learning lessons, and partly because of morbid fascination with the fate that has come close — terrifyingly close — to claiming my own life on several occasions.
A bit farther afield and less personal but also based in fact — contentious, murky fact — is the role the CIA played in drug trafficking in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War, and in Central America during the Iran-Contra affair. British journalist Christopher Robbin’s 1979 book Air America: The Story of the CIA’s Secret Airlines sheds light on the agency’s dealings in Southeast Asia’s “Golden Triangle,” as well as illuminating the remarkable derring-do of the Air America pilots who flew perilous missions to deliver rice, weapons, commando teams, and more questionable cargo. Numerous reports have chronicled the links between CIA-backed Nicaraguan “Contra” rebels and known drug traffickers. Among those reports is an official government document informally called “The Kerry Report,” which was published in 1989 after a three-year investigation headed by then-Senator John Kerry. At the time, Kerry chaired the Senate Subcommittee on Terrorism, Narcotics, and International Operations; he is now U.S. Secretary of State. Do the ends justify the means? It’s a question American foreign policy gives us the chance to ponder on a regular basis.
Joaquin Guzmán Loera—“El Chapo”—is a real-life, larger-than-life drug lord who did indeed escape in 2001 from what was supposedly Mexico’s top-security prison. Guzmán’s remarkable drug distribution network — which included a fleet of planes, a flotilla of boats (and even submarines), and the ingenious tunnels beneath the border fence in San Diego’s industrial suburb, Otay Mesa — made him the world’s wealthiest and most powerful narco trafficker for years. El Chapo remained at large for thirteen years after that escape, heading the Sinaloa cartel, until February 2014, when he was recaptured in a beachfront condominium with his young wife (a former beauty queen) and their twin two-year-old daughters (born, ironically, in America). El Chapo’s recapture marked another victory in the War on Drugs… and created another opening at the top for the next ambitious, ruthless entrepreneur, someone able and willing to meet the seemingly insatiable demand for drugs in El Norte.
— Jon Jefferson
Tallahassee, FL
Acknowledgments
As always, we have the privilege of thanking many people for helping with this book. We’ll start with the FBI — always good friends for crime novelists to have. Angela Bell and Ann Todd, both of the FBI’s Office of Public Affairs, were gracious and swift to line up interviews with technical experts. And those experts were terrific: Special Supervisory Agent Richard Marx, of the Evidence Response Team Unit, answered many, many questions about evidence recovery procedures, and Special Agent Freddie Vela shared valuable insights into drug trafficking, Mexican cartels, and undercover drug investigations.
Aviation expert Bob Macintosh — a longtime investigator for the National Transportation Safety Board until his retirement — was extremely generous with his time and expertise. We’ve repaid Bob’s kindness by giving our fictional NTSB investigator a pivotal role in the action. (This might be an appropriate time to remind Bob and other readers of the standard fiction disclaimer: “Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…”)
Ace pilots (and good friends) Don Shreve, Rob Cherney, and Ed Dumas helped with details about airplanes, jets, and autopilots, and Jim Gerrish of Sierra Industries, Ltd. — the go-to company for performance-enhancing modifications for Cessna Citation jets — was patient, enlightening, and good-natured in response to countless questions about customizing our ill-fated fictional aircraft. On a grimmer but equally helpful front, search-and-rescue expert Kimberly Kelly offered helpful perspective on searching for fragmented remains of crash victims.
Many forensic-anthropologist friends and colleagues pitched in to share their expertise. Anthony Falsetti, Angi Christensen, and Elias Kontanis offered useful insights into the effects of high-speed crashes and fire on the human body. Robert Mann — who spent years identifying the remains of U.S. military personnel recovered from Southeast Asia — provided helpful perspective on the Vietnam War period of U.S. history. Samm Hurst gave useful entomological and meteorological information about San Diego and the nearby mountains.
Dr. Stephanie Blank, a gynecological oncologist and professor at New York University School of Medicine, provided helpful (and heartrending) details on the aggressive uterine cancer known as leiomyosarcoma; our thanks to her for helping us, and for helping women fight this and other merciless forms of cancer. Thanks also to Ellen Sullivan, communications director at the Society of Gynecologic Oncology, for the referral to Dr. Blank.
Our team at William Morrow Publishers — publishers Liate Stehlik and Lynn Grady, editor Lyssa Keusch, editorial assistant Rebecca Lucash, production editor Stephanie Vallejo, copyeditor Laurie McGee, cover designer Richard Aquan, publicist Danielle Bartlett, and marketing guru Kaitlin Harri — transformed ideas and words into a finished book: a book that people will actually hear about, read about, and even buy! We couldn’t be more grateful. Sincere thanks in that vein also to our agent, Giles Anderson, who has kept roofs over our heads and food on our tables for 13 years now.