Ashes and Bone (5 page)

“Shit, the windows. I need to clean the glass and close the shutters.”

“So we’ll do that first. At least you’ll be busy.”

A knock on the door sent Jaymee’s heart into overdrive. Nick had come home, surely. She ran toward the door.

Please, God
.

“Jaymee, Dani? You in there?” The gravelly voice of Jeb Riley, Adams County’s aging coroner, echoed through the wood. Jaymee’s hopes deflated like a released balloon spinning into the sky, and she sank to her knees in the entryway. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Dani stepped past her to let Jeb inside. “We’re here. This is a bad time though, Jeb.”

“I know.” Short and thin, with a head of thick, gray hair that never looked quite combed, Jeb was one of the few people who knew her family and had never judged Jaymee based on the lies her father told. She’d normally greet him with a hug, but she just didn’t have the energy.

“I went over to Oak Lynn to check on Grace, and she told me what’s going on. I had to come into town anyway, and I wanted to check on you girls.”

Jaymee didn’t move from her spot. Her legs refused to work. Maybe she’d stay here until Nick returned.
Because he has to.

“That’s really sweet of you.” Dani wrapped her arms around Jeb. She and Cage had grown close to Jeb over the last few months. He doted on Dani, sometimes calling her the daughter he never had, and she loved it. Normally, Jaymee felt a pang of jealousy whenever she saw Jeb and Dani together. Her own biological father was half a coward and the man who’d raised her a bastard. But she didn’t care about any of that right now.

“Now Miss Jaymee.” Jeb knelt down in front of her. Two of his cool fingers touched her neck. She realized he was checking for a pulse. “You’re not in shock, are you?”

She shivered, realizing how cold she felt. Her fingertips were icy, and the chill spread up her arms and into her chest so badly it ached. “I’m tired. Bone tired.” And she was. So tired her chest didn’t want to work properly, squishing her lungs.

“Your pulse is a bit slow. Nothing to worry about, but let’s get you up and into a chair. Maybe a glass of water.”

She didn’t want to move, but she didn’t have any strength to work with. Despite his spindly arms, Jeb easily pulled her to her feet and guided her to the nearest chair. He patted her shoulder. The varicose veins on his hands fascinated her. She had the urge to run her fingers over them, see if they felt as thick as they looked.

Dani pushed a cold glass of water into her hands, and Jaymee eagerly drank. The chill of the water helped anchor her.

When her mind seemed to clear a little, she heard Dani saying, “We don’t know what happened. It looks like someone took him.”

“Why on earth?” Jeb asked.

“No idea. He told Jaymee he was working on a story—that he needed to talk to her about it—but that’s all we know.”

Jeb patted Jaymee again. “Don’t you worry. Cage and Gina will get to the bottom of this, and your Nick’ll be home by tomorrow.”

“No, he won’t.” Jaymee’s voice didn’t sound like her own. Hoarse and bitter, the words tasted like sludge. “Someone took him. He’s not just going to come waltzing in here.”

“Well,” Jeb faltered, “I don’t know about all that, but I do trust Cage and Gina to figure things out. What you need to do right now is take care of yourself. Getting sick isn’t going to help find Nick.”

“I know.” She licked her dry lips.
Just give me one more minute to drink my water and wallow in helplessness, and then I’ll find my strength. Might have to drag it out of my ass, but it will be there.

Dani walked Jeb to the door, their voices low, but Jaymee heard him promise to keep an eye out for Nick. Jeb had lived in Roselea all his life, knew a lot of people. He’d do some digging, see what he could find out.
Good luck with that.

The front door banged shut, and Dani returned. Her hands on her hips and raised eyebrows made it clear she wasn’t going to let Jaymee wig out anymore.

“You want to deal with the windows before it gets dark?”

Jaymee took another long pull of water. “Let’s go.”

She followed Dani
up the stairs and into a guest room that hadn’t been trashed from the storm. Jaymee assumed its location had save it from the wind.

Dani tossed her bag on the queen-sized bed and studied the room. “This bed was a great find,” she said. “Victorian era and in excellent shape. It’s amazing what you can find at estate auctions.” Her eyes fell on the piece hanging above the bed.

“Is that a Mississippi Confederate flag?”

“Yeah,” Jaymee said. “Supposedly it’s an original, and the 3
^rd
Mississippi in the Civil War used it as a regiment flag during the battle of Vicksburg. Nick…” Jaymee’s voice caught.

She cleared her throbbing throat. “Nick bought it online from a dealer who claims to have authentic Confederate items. Nick wasn’t sure if the flag was real, but he thought it would be a neat conversation piece, even though displaying it will probably piss off some people. But you know me. Couldn’t resist.”

Dani leaned closer, a look on her face Jaymee recognized. An accomplished historical preservation specialist with the Adams County Historical Foundation, Dani had a sharp eye and could be obsessive about her antiques. Her boss, Lee Walker, said she was the finest restoration expert he’d ever worked with. Jaymee figured he owed Dani that much after what happened last summer.

Dani tapped the glass. “This is a pretty incredible piece if it’s real. Genuine Civil War flags, especially Confederate flags, are rare. And very expensive. We’re talking six figures.”

“How can you tell if it’s fake?”

“Helps if you know what they do to make them look old. They get dragged behind trucks to make them ripped and look used. The torn condition is a major tell. Real flags have a specific shredded look from wind damage. Plus, the stitching is a big deal.”

Dani pointed to the blue star on the left side of the flag. “See how the stitching is kind of sloppy? That’s supposed to make them look authentic because the South was poor, and so the assumption is the flag would be less than stellar. But that’s bull. These flags were hugely symbolic and made with pride and care.”

“This one does look sloppy,” Jaymee said. Talking shop with Dani was good. Kept her mind off everything else. Gave her some kind of purpose.

“That’s why I’d have to say it was fake. Which doesn’t surprise me. Lee and I have been seeing an upsurge in fake collectibles, most from the Civil War and most Confederate items.”

“What’s the point?”

“Money,” Dani said. “Civil War relics are a huge market, and among real collectors, the fakes are serious concerns. Confederate stuff is gold because there’s less of it. I’m surprised Nick didn’t know that.”

“Now that you mention it, I think he talked about it a few months ago. Before he bought the flag. He said there’s a big market for fakes.”

A cold sensation ran through Jaymee, different from the chilling hopelessness from earlier. This felt like raw instinct. The cardboard box with its dusty contents and Nick’s strange sounding tone during their last conversation flickered through her thoughts. “Do you think that’s what he was researching?”

“Could be. Has he brought you anything else?”

“Let me show you.”

M
utt was back
in his favorite spot on the middle of her bed. Jaymee didn’t bother to shoo him off, going straight for the chifforobe. She felt better already, doing something to possibly help Nick.

Jaymee pulled out the box. “I found this earlier, before he called. I asked him about it, and he said he wanted to get the items authenticated before he gave them to me for the house.”

“Why didn’t he just ask me?”

“That’s what I said. And he got snappy. He was driving in the storm, so I didn’t think much of it, but now…he said he picked these up at the same place as the flag. An online store.”

Jaymee opened the box and laid out the items in the plastic bags for Dani to examine.

Dani carefully unzipped the first bag and brought out an object Jaymee recognized. “That’s a Minié ball,” she said. There were fifteen balls in all, in varying states of aging. She thought they looked like a swollen arrowhead, with the base of the ball circular and a pointed tip.

“Named after the ammunition’s creator.” Dani examined another Minié ball. “And the cause of most of the amputations during the war. These suckers ground bones to a powder, tore up muscles, and pretty much mutilated every part of the body they came in contact with.”

“Are those real?” Jaymee asked.

Dani flicked a bit of dirt off one of the balls. “Yeah, I think so. Honestly, cool as these are, they aren’t worth much. Anyone with a metal detector can go to a battlefield and likely come up with a few, which is evidence of the sheer carnage of the Civil War. But they’re a nice add for the house.” She pulled out another object.

“Is that a button?”

“I wish I had my magnifying glass,” Dani said. “This looks like a button off a Union uniform. There are a few Confederate ones in here. Probably real and almost as common as the Minié balls. But this,” she said as she picked up a diamond-shaped piece of thin metal, “is something else altogether.”

“What is it?”

Dani’s expression looked like a cross between awe and disgust, her nose curling like it did when Mutt went swimming in White Creek and then shook off his fur in Ironwood’s kitchen. “It’s a slave badge. And very much a fake. Whoever made it at least got the location right—Charleston, South Carolina, the only place known to have used slave tags. They are rare. See this?”

She pointed to the curved edges of the tag. “The edges are folded over. Real tags were cut off, their points sharper. The lettering is off on this one too. Did Nick say how much he paid for this?”

Jaymee shook her head. “He didn’t tell me anything. Just that he wanted to authenticate them. I doubt he spent much.”

“Assuming he didn’t, the seller is either an idiot or knew it was fake. The value of a real slave tag is in the thousands. Up to five figures, easily. Shit.” Dani pulled another item out of the box. “This is a fake Confederate States buckle. This design actually never existed, but someone’s gone to great trouble to make it look old.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve already researched this buckle,” Dani said. “A tourist came to the historical foundation a couple of weeks ago with one. Paid six hundred bucks to some business online. Of course, when we went to look it up, the seller had disappeared, which is really common. They’re like carnies, setting up a temporary shop and then moving on before anyone can trace them.”

“The place Nick bought the flag,” Jaymee said. “He told me he found their site online, but nothing specific. I know the seller claimed the flag as authentic. And it was originally several hundred bucks. Nick talked him down.”

“Did he talk to him in person?”

“No, via email.”

“Do you know his password?” Dani asked. “We could get the name…”

Jaymee shook her head. Uneasiness slithered over her.

“So if Nick found out this guy was selling fraudulent items, what would he do?”

Something shifted in Jaymee’s mind, oozed its way through her limbs, and burrowed into her heart. The air thickened with tension, as if anticipating her next words. “He’d jump on it. Try to expose them if he could. Do you think someone would hurt him over that?”

“If he got this stuff at the same place he bought the flag? Maybe. I don’t know if the flag sucked in Nick, but I’m sure plenty of people have taken the bait. And the seller is likely pumping out plenty of other items. Some big, some small. That’s partially how they pull it off, mixing things up.”

Dani’s words sounded sharp, like the rapid
pop, pop, pop
of a snare drum. “I’m telling you, Civil War memorabilia is huge, and there’s been an uproar among collectors about fake relics for the last few years. It’s a real problem, which means someone’s making dirty money. Depending on what the frauds are using that money for, we could be talking a big story. And I know Nick loves those.”

The Minié balls Jaymee held in her hand felt heavy and hot, as if they warmed to Dani’s words and the injustice of someone using their tragic history for petty profit.

Jaymee’s cellphone startled them both. “Hello?”

“It’s Cage.”

The tone of his voice felt like poison spreading throughout her body. She wasn’t ready to face whatever toxin he’d discovered, so she cut him off before he started. “We found something at Magnolia. I think Nick may have been looking into someone who sold fake Civil War artifacts.” Jaymee told Cage everything Dani had said, in great detail. The longer Cage kept silent, the longer she could keep it together.

“Good information, Jay. We’ll definitely put that toward the top of our list.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep calm. “What’s at the top of the list?”

“We found some things in the car that don’t make sense. Can’t tell you much right now. But Jay, we did find traces of blood on the steering wheel and airbag. It had been cleaned off, like we thought. Crime scene guys think his head was slammed against it, probably on impact with the other vehicle.”

Panic punched Jaymee hard in the gut. She heard herself sucking in a raggedy breath, and then the sound of a shaky, child-like voice—her own. “In the accident? Who cleaned up the blood? And why?”

“That’s what we want to know. I think whoever hit Nick’s car may have taken him. We’re treating this as a kidnapping. And we’ve already got a person of interest.”

“Who?”

“We found a business card in the car with the name circled several times. Someone had dug the pen into the card and nearly tore it.”

“Whose business card?” Jaymee demanded.

“You know I can’t give out any information.”

“And you know I’m going to nag you until you do. I can’t just sit here with nothing, Cage.” Jaymee wasn’t being fair, but right now she couldn’t care less.

He heaved a long sigh, his expression no doubt pinched, making the creases between his eyes deepen. “He’s a Yankee. Here with a big company. That’s all I’m going to say.”