Extinction

by Douglas Preston

Almost everything at a crime scene has a distinct smell—whether it’s blood or propellant, mouthwash, cigarette smoke, aftershave, fear. You just take a moment to stand there, empty your mind, and sample the air with your proboscis.

“What now?” Maximilian asked, sweating and red-faced. “Shouldn’t we be doing something?” “We are doing something. We’re waiting for the sun to rise and the CSI team to get here.”

“Curiosity killed the bloody cat.”