The team is on a long stretch of desert road. California and Nevada Highway Patrolmen gather around the crime scene. Teresa's talking with a captain as he inputs data into a GPS.
Patrick, Kenzie, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho stand slightly apart, watching Teresa. With it being so hot, Kenzie decides to roll up her sleeves, revealing one of her tattoos.
"That damn GPS is going to put it in California," says Cho. "I know it."
"Think positive. It's Nevada. Definitely Nevada," says Rigsby.
The group is staring at a severed right hand lying on the asphalt with the palm up. 43 is faintly tattooed on the palm of the hand. Starting from the hand, two uniform highway patrolmen unroll big tape measures towards the two signs, indicating the Nevada and California border.
"You're dreaming. We'll catch it. A stone-cold mystery."
"Forensics are already running the prints. Maybe we'll get a quick match," suggests Van Pelt.
"We'd never get that lucky. We're going to be "talking to the hand" for a long while."
"Why so glum," asks Patrick. "A case is a case."
"'Cause dismemberments are a bitch. You can spend months just assembling the victim. And there's always a piece missing," says Kenzie.
"There's already plenty to work with right here."
"Huh?"
"It's a right hand with a number on it," deadpans Van Pelt.
"A male hand, or a not very femme female. What else can you get right here without any forensic analysis," asks Rigsby.
"Let's see. Probably a white man in his fifties. He wrote on his right hand, so he's a lefty."
"The number could mean something to the victim," suggests Kenzie.
"Maybe the killer wrote it. Some kind of message," suggests Cho.
"It's too faded. And a killer would write it bigger."
Jane gets on his hands and knees to sniff the hand. Several troopers notice this. Kenzie places her hand over her eyes and looks down while Patrick sniffs the hand. Teresa and the captain notice Patrick. The captain gives her a quizzical look.
"Consultant."
"Smells of almond oil moisturizer, musky cologne, and tobacco. His palms are supple, his nails are professionally maintained," says Patrick, standing up. "So, a rich man. There's a faint tan line on his little finger from a missing pinkie ring. Suggesting an extrovert in a job where extroverts thrive."
"So..." trails off Van Pelt.
"He's upper management in the hotel or gaming business."
"Total guess," says Cho.
"What'd you bet I'm right?"
"Don't do that," mutters Kenzie knowingly.
Cho checks his pockets, "35 cents."
"35 cents? I find that hard to believe considering the huge crayon bank you've probably got hiding behind your bedroom door that's filled with all the spare change you've acquired since you were 15."
Cho's mortified and amazed that Jane's able to guess something that accurate about him. Rigsby and Kenzie stifle a giggle.
"35 cents. Take it or leave it."
"You have a bet."
"I don't think it's right to gamble on such things. That's a human being that died right there," says Van Pelt.
YOU ARE READING
I Bet on Losing Dogs - Patrick Jane
Fanfiction"I bet on losing dogs, I know they're losing, and I'll pay for my place by the ring, Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, ...
