Skye Cree 03: The Bones Will Tell (25 page)

T
hirty minutes west of Seattle across Puget Sound, Skye was sure she’d found her own personal sanctuary. Bainbridge Island, with its bucolic countryside and gentle slopes, sand dunes and a forest of trees, had an old world feel to it. A mix of Native American history combined with a European heritage, she decided she could feel right at home here.

From the
back door of the farmhouse Skye could see the jutting coastline and rocky outcrops that made the land so diverse.

T
he furniture truck had already come and gone. The delivery men had already carted heavy bedroom furniture, mattresses, and a new flat-screen TV upstairs. They’d arranged the living room for her with the new sofa and love seat—several times, in fact.

She
wandered outside to walk the grounds. Their ten acres included rolling hills, wooded patches that stretched to the rear of the property and a small shallow pond the previous owners had let grow in knots of creeping ivy and ragwort. Skye intended to fix that.

When she heard a vehicle turn into the long drive, she
dashed around the corner of the house in time to see Josh and Tate crawl out of a rented truck.

“What took so long?” Skye wanted to know.

“
Had to wait forty-five minutes for the truck and then another thirty to get aboard the ferry. Did the furniture show up yet?”

“All set up
, just waiting for you and Tate to bring in our treasures.”

Josh
swaggered over and planted a kiss on her mouth. He scooped her up off the driveway and into his arms, started heading toward the front of the house.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ve been married so long you forgot a man always carries his bride over the threshold. That’s a good sign.”

“
But you did that when we checked into the hotel in St. Kitts and again when we got home to the loft.”

Toting
her through the front door and into the entryway, Josh covered her mouth again before setting her on her feet. “Then I guess the third time is the one that counts.”

Tate followed them inside and looked around. “Wow, this is some hacienda.
Next thing we’ll hear is that you’ve decided to start a family? Imagine, having little Anders running around this place.”

Skye met Josh’s eyes. “We’re getting us a dog, maybe two.”

“Even better,” Tate returned. “Have you decided what kind?”

As
all three lifted and hauled in their share of boxes, they stacked them in every room of the house. Many trips back and forth gave them time to kick around the best dog breeds.

“I’m fond of border collies
myself. They’re supposed to be smarter than all the rest,” Tate threw out. “There’s a no-kill shelter in Snohomish that’s so overcrowded right now they’re begging for people to adopt. I know because Maggie was planning to go down there and pick out a dog for herself before she was…” Tate’s voiced trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to utter the word, murdered. “Maybe she should have. Maybe a dog would’ve saved her somehow.”

Skye took his hand in hers.
“We don’t know that, not even the circumstances of what really happened. I’m so sorry about Maggie. I still feel Josh and I have some degree of responsibility.”

“Why? You shouldn’t feel that way because the sick son of a bitch
who did those despicable things to her picked her out of all the other employees. It could’ve just as easily been Terry in accounting or Jeanie in marketing. I’m the one who blew her off that Sunday. I’m the one who didn’t go by her place to check on her until Monday. I was trying to teach her a lesson. What kind of boyfriend thinks that way?”

“Oh, Tate,” Skye said, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s not your fault.”

Josh slapped Tate on the back. “I already told you to let go of that guilt. None of us have a crystal ball.”

“I want to help you guys catch this bastard. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“You really want to help, volunteer at the Foundation,” Josh suggested. “Skye could use all the help she can get going through case binders we’ve put together. Another pair of eyes couldn’t hurt.”

When they had finished unloading the van, they
dropped into the comfy living room chairs, exhausted.

“
How about I call in pizza?” Skye offered. “I found a pizza flyer mixed in with all the junk in our mailbox. How about we order takeout?”

“That’ll work. Hard to believe t
hey deliver pizza to the boonies.” Tate joked. “Do they deliver beer, too, if not I’ll take the biggest bottle of Coke they have.”

“We aren’t that far from
downtown Bainbridge,” Josh explained. “Less than four miles from downtown, that means we fall into their delivery guidelines.”

Skye laughed. “We checked before we signed the paperwork
on the house. Do you believe that? But you guys go ahead and argue the point while I go dig the ad out of the trash.”

After she
took off for the kitchen, Tate looked over at his former brother-in-law. “Should we tell her she could just look up the phone number on the cell?”

“And miss the five-dollar
s off coupon that probably came with the advertisement? No way.”

Tate grinned.
“She is a sweetheart the way she always watches out for your money. That Foundation is barebones, Josh. She refused to spend excessively to outfit the place. I mean, it does the job but… That sure isn’t like any woman I’ve ever known. And that’s including my sister. We both know Annabelle loved to spend your money. ”

Josh nodded his head
in agreement reminding himself it was wise not to get into a rant about Annabelle’s spending habits, which boarded on extravagant. All he said was, “Don’t I know it.”

T
he pizza guy showed up about the same time a cloudburst decided to break open in a downpour, which earned an additional tip for him.

T
hey stuffed themselves on pepperoni and Italian sausage and told funny stories about dogs they’d owned, steering clear of any more mention of Maggie.

A
couple of hours later after Tate said goodnight, Josh braved the rain to go out to the back and bring in firewood. He built up a blaze in the fireplace as they listened to the steady rain coming down on their new roof. When the fire caught, Josh settled back, propped his feet up in Skye’s lap to the sound of Bach coming from their iPod docking station.

But just as they got cozy,
the landline rang, Skye got up to answer it with all the enthusiasm of a teenager waiting for that special person to finally ring.

“Our first
phone call in our new house,” she said, excitement dripping from her voice as she snatched up the receiver from its cradle. “Hello?”

“Skye, I’ve got news.”

Because Harry was the first person who’d called on the brand-new landline, Skye told him as much. But even on a Saturday night the detective was in no mood for small talk. Harry’s demeanor was all business.

“Dawson got a match to the bones you were sent. They’ve been identified through DNA and
came back a match to Trisha Danes.”

“The
young soldier’s wife? But the note said they belonged to a Janie or a Julie, he couldn’t remember which?”

“He was obviously way off. He either planted
a false lead early on or maybe he just couldn’t recall her name after so much time had passed. Either way, now we know. Look, I’ve got to get back to the living room. My wife popped in a movie already and she’s waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. I wanted to tell you as soon as Dawson gave me the word.”

“You’re in the bathroom? What movie?”
Skye wanted to know.

“My wife says if I don’t sit still for two hours to watch some chick flick
with her called
The Big Wedding,
she’s cuffing me to the chair or filing for divorce. I forget which. By the way, when did Robert De Niro start doing fluff stuff?”

“About two decades ago,” Skye
told him.

“Well
, the wife tricked me with that one, didn’t she? Promised me De Niro. I’m thinking gangster, or cop, definitely drama. And what I get is silly and stupid.”

She
got a kick out of Harry’s take on the movie. “Such a critic. Go have fun with the wife. But hey, if you play your cards right that handcuffing thing could be a lot less expensive for you than a divorce.”

Josh was laughing when she hung up. “I don’t even want to picture detective Drummond and the missus like that.”

“Me either.”

“So Dawson
identified the bones?”

“Yeah, but
the guy’s note said they belonged to a Janie or a Julie. Trisha doesn’t sound like either one.”

“
But the DNA doesn’t lie,” Josh replied. “Maybe he didn’t know Trisha’s name.”

“
That’s what Harry said. But it bugs me, is all. I’ve been searching for missing Janies and Julies all up and down the Pacific Northwest. I can’t believe I fell for a false lead.”

“
It happens.” He didn’t like the troubled look he saw on her face. They’d been having a nice evening and now she seemed preoccupied. Harry’s fault, he thought now. “Okay, do you plan to tell me what’s bothering you for real?”

“Yesterday, after we got the keys to the house,
I made contact with a former FBI profiler named Emmett Cannavale.”

“The obvious question isn’t why but why another one? You know the task force already
talked to one.”

“Yeah,
but that one shut us out. I want to know how this guy thinks, Josh. The only way to do that is get our own guy on board. Cannavale has spent time with serial killers on death row. He might bring a different perspective to the case than what you and I do. I want to pick Cannavale’s brain, get a bead on who we’re dealing with.”

“
When?”

“I set up a meeting with him for
next month. He’ll be in town then for a seminar.”

“
A month is a long way off. I hope we nab him long before then. But let me know when and I’ll be sure to clear my schedule to make it to the appointment.” He picked up his beer and chugged it down, stared into the fire. “At least tonight we can go to bed knowing Trisha is no longer missing.”

“Yeah.
After such a long time, she’ll finally get to go home to Charlotte.”

The
first night
in their new house Skye spent tossing and turning. She listened as the old house creaked and cracked, settling in with disturbing pops and groans. Twice since going to bed she’d gotten up to recheck the locks on all the windows and doors, which was unlike her. It was now five-thirty and she hadn’t closed her eyes for longer than sixty minutes straight.

She did her best to attribute her restlessness to the new house, a new environment
. But try as she may, she knew that wasn’t it. She’d hoped their new refuge would give them something else to think about other than the string of murders and autopsy photos she’d seen lately. She couldn’t deny the circumstances were getting to her.

She made her way to the kitchen
, a large rectangular space with white cabinets, slate-blue walls and contrasting wide-plank cypress floors.

While t
hey hadn’t unpacked every dish yet, they had taken care of getting the kitchen squared away for breakfast by bringing a few necessities from the loft. She went through a reusable grocery tote until she found the bag of coffee. Tearing into the beans, she breathed in their deep aroma. Even the smell woke her up a little. Once she’d located the grinder, she started the brew.

After
the machine kicked in, she stepped to the window over the sink, watched the sun peek its way over the Cascades. Skye stared out past the porch to the yard, a generous stretch of lawn that even now was brilliant green. The fragrant glacier lily growing there drew her outside. She threw on a sweater and stepped onto the back porch.