Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller

by V. J. Chambers

  WREN melded herself back into the passenger seat of Reilly’s car. “I think that one was my favorite.”

  “That one? Not the one with the finished basement?” Reilly was fitting the key into the ignition. They had just come from a marathon session of looking at available houses, four in one afternoon. Wren knew they needed to move quickly, but she was definitely feeling overwhelmed by it all.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “You want that for your weights or whatever.”

  “It would be perfect,” he said. “Plus then we have another area with a TV, and Timmy can be down there watching guys build Lego cities while we’re upstairs watching something else.”

  “Timmy watches that stuff on his tablet, though, right? It’s on YouTube.”

  “I put it on the TV for him all the time.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, fine, but this one has the deck.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. That deck is awesome.” He started the car and backed it up. “Maybe we could build a deck onto the house with the finished basement. It’s closer to work.”

  “But it means that we’ll be too far to go in to the Daily Bean before work, and Angela will miss us.”

  “We can’t buy a house based on its proximity to a coffee shop,” said Reilly.

  “Can’t we?” she said.

  He considered, pulling the car forward. “Okay, well, if we buy this one, where do my weights go?”

  “In the attic room?” she said. “Isn’t the attic room perfect for that?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But there’s no space for another TV room.”

  “Could be,” she said. “Do we really need a guest room?”

  “What if your dad comes to stay?” said Reilly.

  “We get one of those convertible couch things that becomes a guest bed,” she said.

  He nodded slowly. “That could work, actually. You’re talking me into the deck, Wren.”

  She leaned her head back against the headrest, shutting her eyes. “I like that one.”

  “Well, we’ll keep looking,” said Reilly. “And maybe something even more perfect will show up. But I do like how close this one is to Janessa, because that’ll be easier for Timmy.”

  “And don’t you think he’d like that room?” she said.

  “Yeah, he’d love it. It’s huge, and there’s all kinds of space for him,” said Reilly. He yawned, stifling it with a fist. “You, um, you cool with me not wanting to marry you because you don’t think this is going to last?”

  She sat up straight. “What?”

  “Just wondering,” he said. He stretched his neck to one side, grunting a little.

  “How do just pop out with that casually? Like it’s not a loaded question?”

  “Is it?” He glanced at her. “I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “No, you’re being passive aggressive,” she said, glaring at him.

  He sucked in an audible breath through his nose. “Okay. How do you figure that? Because I’m not, by the way.”

  “This is just like the us-having-a-baby thing. You say something, and I’m cool with it, and then you get weird because women are not ‘supposed’ to be cool with it, and you assume something must be wrong. I’m not Janessa, Cai, okay? I’m not your ex-wife. I don’t care if we get married. I don’t need to make babies with you. I am very happy to buy a house with you and grow old with you and chase serial killers even when we’re lumbering after them in walkers, okay? I like us. I don’t want to change us.”

  He was quiet.

  She huffed, leaning her forehead against the window and glaring out into the dusk. It was late, nearly 9:00, but it was only now getting dark. “I think maybe you’re in denial about what you actually want.”

  “Oh, come on, don’t do that,” he muttered.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I think deep down, you have this desire to have some traditional, normal existence with your little wife at home in the kitchen, making you dinner with her swollen, pregnant belly and your ring on her finger—”

  “Stop it.” His voice was sharp.

  She groaned.

  “Where the hell is that coming from?” he demanded. “Do I treat you that way? Have I ever demanded you be anything other than what you are? I think you have repressed issues after growing up in a sexist cult.”

  She groaned again. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I think I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, trying to think of all the shit that needs to get done, and then we worked all day, and looked at houses all evening, and now it’s basically time to crawl into bed, and I’m exhausted. It’s making me grouchy. I’m sorry.”

  He sighed. “Maybe I’m grouchy too.” He reached over to rest a hand on her knee. He squeezed it comfortingly. “Sorry. I think I get insecure sometimes. I think about my life without you, and it scares the fuck out of me.”

  She put her hand on his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “But… I mean… do you think arguing like this is a sign?”

  “What?”

  “Are we not as ready as we think we are to buy a house together?”

  “We’re ready,” he said.

  “Are we, though?”

  “Why are you questioning it?”

  “I’m just… I don’t want us to get in over our heads with this. We have issues, and what if they get bigger if we’re, you know, really and totally committed?”

  “Now, you’re making me question it.” He was rueful.

  “Sorry,” she said. “We should talk about this when we’re not tired and stressed.”

  “Yes,” he said. He let out a laugh. “Which will be when, exactly?”

  She laughed too. “Oh, good point. But it is stress. We’re good together. We both know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  They drove in silence for a while.

  “Like, um, what do you mean by issues?” Reilly spoke up.

  “Oh, you know, what I was saying? About babies and marriage and stuff.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “And… and Hawk,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “He’s an issue, huh?” His voice was half-strangled.

  “You wouldn’t be reacting like that to his name if he wasn’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel like I can never discuss him if—”

  “Let’s definitely not talk about Hawk when we’re grouchy,” he said curtly.

  She didn’t respond for a minute, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

  So, they didn’t speak at all for the rest of the drive home, and when they got back to their respective cabins, they both started for their own houses, even though they usually spent the night together.

  That night, they didn’t even discuss it.

  They simply went to bed alone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “WREN, how are you?” said Arnold Davis, who worked for the Cardinal Falls district attorney’s office. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “I’m good,” said Wren. “How are you?” It was morning, and she was sitting in her office at work, sipping at her coffee—a pistachio cortado, a new concoction Angela, the barista at the Daily Bean, had given her to try.

  “Fine,” said Davis. “Is there something going on with you guys? Do you have a new case? Are you needing assistance?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Wren ran her finger around the lid on the coffee cup. “I was, uh, just calling to, uh, to check in.”

  “Check in about what?”

  “Oh, everything, I guess,” she said. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to say it. “About Hawk Marner’s appeal, specifically.”

  “Well, I gave you the date,” said Davis.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s still the date, then?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s going to be presented as written briefs. Near as I can tell, there isn’t even going to be oral arguments. All the evidence is going to be presented that way.”

 
; “Right, that’s what you said before,” she said. “So, nothing’s changed?”

  “Nothing’s changed,” said Davis.

  “Right,” she said quietly.

  “I know the waiting can be the worst part,” he said. “It drives you crazy, not knowing. But you have to put it from your mind.”

  “What about charging Hawk with the murder of the girls?” she said.

  “I’ve been told that’s on indefinite hold,” he said, and now there was a note of annoyance in his tone.

  “Oh,” she said, unable to keep from sounding disappointed.

  “I hear you,” he said. “I wanted to just go for it, because I figure, if he somehow manages to get this appeal going, we want to have some other reason to keep him behind bars.”

  “Exactly,” she murmured.

  “But it’s all a numbers game sometimes,” said Davis. “We have to make sure we successfully convict a certain percentage of the time, right? Or else it looks bad when it comes time for elections. So, if something’s even a little risky, well…” He sighed.

  “It is risky, though,” she said. “I can’t help but think that the case against him for the murders is tenuous, even with the new evidence. It would be too easy to explain it away.” The new evidence consisted of DNA that had been found on trophies in the case. However, the trophies had not been found on Hawk’s property, and it would be easy for his team to argue the DNA was down to transference.

  “Sorry I don’t have better news,” he said.

  “It’s fine. I’m the one who’s pestering you,” she said. “I know you said to leave it alone.”

  “You’ve been great,” he said. “You didn’t respond to any of the stuff in the press that Marner’s lawyer was laying down, just as I advised you. And wasn’t I right that it died down?”

  “You were,” she said.

  “And you’re not going to go visit him, right?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Good,” he said. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but doing nothing is your best play right now. If I know anything, I will call you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. She took a drink of coffee. “Okay,” she repeated in a quieter voice. “I guess I should hang up now.”

  “All right,” he said. “It’s fine to reach out if you need to.”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Oh, actually, there is something,” said Davis. “Uh… Marner has a girlfriend, and her name is Nielson. Deborah Nielson. Is she any relation to Jimmy Nielson, who we indicted for the murder of Eli Brown and for sexually abusing his daughter last year?”

  “His daughter,” said Wren. “But not the one he abused. Apparently, her older sister protected Deborah. What do you mean he has a girlfriend? How does he have a girlfriend in jail?”

  “She visits him and they write letters and exchange email and he calls her collect. We monitor transcripts of the calls, but they only talk about what they’re going to do when he gets out and express their undying love.”

  Wren drew away from the phone. Her body felt strange—almost too tight, as if something had wrapped around her rib cage and was squeezing her uncomfortably. She was experiencing some kind of emotion, but she didn’t know what it was.

  “Delacroix?” said Davis.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” she said. Deborah Nielson was the sister of Anna Marie Haim, who they had pinned as the main suspect in a set of serial murders in a nearby hospital. It had turned out that she wasn’t guilty, but she had been hiding secrets about her past. Her father Jimmy had raped her and she’d had a child she’d given up for adoption before she’d changed her name and cut off all ties with her family. Anna Marie had been some years older than Wren, but Deborah had been about her age. She had grown up on the compound, same as Wren. She supposed that Deborah knew Hawk, and that he knew her, but she’d never really seen them together.

  Oh, Lord, she wasn’t jealous, was she?

  No. Her body reacted violently to that. She wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t the emotion she was feeling. The emotion was… fear.

  Hawk was dangerous, but she’d been able to predict certain things about him based on his obsession with her. He had ideas about them, that they were connected, that they were destined to be together by the Crimson Ram, that they were both full of some violent darkness and meant to commit murder together. He didn’t love her. He wasn’t capable of that. But he had been focused on her for a long time—since he was sixteen years old.

  So, if he was declaring his undying love for some other woman, that was new. And she didn’t like new when it came to Hawk, because it was terrifying.

  “You all right?”

  “I don’t know why he would be doing this,” she said. “It’s not a good thing.”

  “He’s probably simply bored, Delacroix. Having a person on the outside to manipulate and to scam money from, it’s a good deal for him. She puts money in his commissary account. He sweet talks her. That’s what it’s about, I think.”

  “And yet, you told me about it.”

  “I just wanted to know about Deborah Nielson is all.”

  “We need to keep an eye on Hawk. He’s… I have no idea why he’s doing this. That concerns me.”

  “Okay,” said Davis in a different voice. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. But you stay away, you understand me?”

  She hesitated.

  “Delacroix?” There was a warning in his voice.

  She sighed. “Well, what are you going to do? Could I see the transcripts? Could—”

  “You need to stay out of this,” he said. “Your personal connection with Marner is what they are trying to exploit. You can’t use your position in law enforcement to snoop on him with his new girlfriend. His lawyer finds out about that, he’ll have a field day.”

  “Right,” she muttered, leaning her head back against her chair. She stared up at the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry I said anything,” he said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You promise me to leave this alone?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Swear.”

  “I just said that I promised.”

  “Yeah, maybe you said it too quickly.”

  “I swear,” she said.

  He was quiet for a minute, and then he let out a breath. “Okay. Okay, then. Good.”

  WREN needed to tell Reilly what she’d found out, but she didn’t know how to do it. She couldn’t think of a way to break it to him that didn’t make her sound as though she was still attached to Hawk in some way, that she still wanted him all to herself.

  She didn’t.

  Truthfully, she wanted Hawk dead.

  She wasn’t the type to wish death on a person, even a horrible person like Hawk. Usually, she thought that there was a benefit to society to keep serial killers alive, because they could be studied and learned from, and the more society knew, the better they could combat that evil. Also, she knew that serial killers had loved ones, and it was they who would suffer if the killer died. They were innocent of murder, but they would pay the price. She didn’t want to punish anyone’s mother. Of course, a lot of serial killers had really terrible mothers.

  Take Hawk’s, for instance. She’d disappeared when Hawk was very young and never returned. She certainly wouldn’t mourn his loss. She didn’t even know him. And Hawk didn’t really have loved ones. No one would suffer if he was gone.

  As for learning from him…

  Well, she thought it would be worth sacrificing any knowledge gleaned if he could never get out of jail, never harm anyone again.

  She wanted him out of her life, forever.

  She wasn’t sure why she was usually sympathetic towards killers, but maybe it was because it was so easy for her to get inside their heads. Maybe her empathy did it.

  And the truth was—when it came to Hawk—she didn’t have that empathy. Possibly it was because he had hurt her. It was difficult to feel sorry for a person who’d been so personally adversari
al. Possibly it was something else. If she’d truly understood him, it wouldn’t have taken her so long to see what he was.

  Sometimes, when she thought about how easily she could typically spot a killer, and then considered how many times she’d let Hawk into her bed, she felt…

  Well, stupid, mostly.

  But something else, too, some dark, twisting emotion that threatened to overtake her and surround her in its badness.

  The door to her office opened, and Reilly came in.

  “Cai,” she said. “I was coming to talk to you. I just got off the phone—”

  “Put a pin in that,” said Reilly. “Because I got a call from Jim McNamara, and he wants us to come down to the Cardinal Falls station. There’s a girl who got free from some guy, and McNamara thinks it might be our kind of thing.”

  “A case?” said Wren, feeling excited.

  “Well, no bodies yet,” said Reilly. “But… it’s something.”

  She picked up her coffee cup. “Let’s go, then.”

  THE girl’s name was Everly Green, and she was about twenty years old. She lived in Cardinal Falls, but she commuted to college in Shepherdstown. She was sitting in the interrogation room with a blanket clutched around her shoulders. Her face was bruised and swollen. Her lip was split. She had a black eye.

  Wren and Reilly were on the opposite side of a two-way mirror, watching.

  Everly was alone with a female officer named Branigan.

  “We’re just going to go through it one more time,” Branigan was saying in a gentle voice. “Do you think you can do that?”

  Everly hunched into her blanket. “Sure. Anything I can do to help you guys find this guy.”

  “Thanks,” said Branigan. “You’re doing great, and we appreciate it. So, let’s start at the beginning and go through this chronologically, because we haven’t really done that. Where were you when this man abducted you?”

  “I was at a party,” said Everly. “He and I were talking, and he kept offering to go get me drinks, and he seemed really nice, so I didn’t think anything of it.”