Truth in the Bones

by Vickie McKeehan

  “But you get results,” Phyllis pointed out. “They can’t take that away from you. The police even use tracking dogs and don’t get the kind of results that you guys get.”

  “Which doesn’t exactly make law enforcement fans of ours,” Josh admitted. “Sure, they’re grateful after a child is found, but they can pose problems when it doesn’t go down like everyone expects.”

  Doug scratched his chin as if wondering how to bring up what he wanted to say. “Being different will always come at a price. I’m convinced people just don’t understand Native American customs. I admit that included me until just recently. Since that night at the hospital when Travis brought the elders of the tribe to hold the healing ceremony at Josh’s bedside, I’ve been doing some research about it. Most people don’t believe in spirit guides any more than they believe in ghosts. But I saw for myself how Josh’s condition improved within a few hours. Whatever you guys want to call it, I’m a believer in the healing power of these ceremonies. Phyllis and I have known for some time just how much Josh has changed. We see it for ourselves. But we also know that not everyone is so open-minded. And we know very well that our granddaughter has some…special gift. There’s no point in denying it.”

  Skye and Josh traded looks. But it was Skye who asked, “How long have you known?”

  “Since last Christmas when we were babysitting her while you guys went shopping. Our little darling here started howling like a wolf into thin air without any prompting from us,” Doug admitted. “It was hilarious to watch.”

  “We’ve waited all these months for you guys to mention it to us,” Phyllis said with a grin. “But it’s as if you think we’re stupid.”

  “Uh-oh, busted,” Skye uttered. “It’s not that we think you’re stupid.”

  Doug held up a hand. “It’s okay. We know now she’s different. You just need to let us know how we can help with her…abilities.”

  Travis chuckled. “Like her mother, the wolf will be a big part of her life.”

  “And I wouldn’t be sitting here if not for that wolf,” Josh said matter-of-factly.

  “See? We’re just one big, happy wolf family,” Skye said with amusement. “Totally normal for our wolf clan.”

  “So that’s how you solve these serial murders you’re working on?” Phyllis asked.

  Skye noticed Sierra picking at her food and realized the baby was done. Before Sierra could do her “flinging food act,” Skye grabbed the plate and set it aside. She swiped a wet washcloth over the baby’s face to clean off bits of egg sticking to her mouth. “The murders take more than that, especially the one dumped in our lap now. Josh and I have agreed that today’s the day we confront our FBI profiler friend. We want to know why he got us involved when there’s no actual FBI investigation going on back in D.C.”

  Skye plopped Sierra’s feet on the floor and watched her toddle over to Phyllis.

  The doting grandmother set down her coffee cup to pick up the baby. “That doesn’t seem fair at all.”

  “It isn’t,” Josh grumbled. “That’s why we need you guys to stay with Sierra while we go talk to Emmett Cannavale. Oh, and we might be moving back to the mainland soon.”

  “Really?” Travis seemed surprised. “That would be good news since it’s sometimes a pain to catch the ferry, like this morning when the bridge was loaded down with bumper-to-bumper traffic.”

  Skye snickered with amusement as she stood up to clear the dishes. “Duly noted. That seems to be the prevailing complaint. We live on an island with limited access. Check.”

  Josh started loading the dishwasher. “Yet that’s not what the travel brochures claim.”

  “You two go get ready for your meeting,” Phyllis ordered. “I’ll take care of this mess. Doug and I don’t mind staying if Travis needs to get back to his horses.”

  “I’ll stay. I asked my neighbor to feed the crew this morning.”

  “Hear that, Sierra? You have a houseful of willing people to entertain you. What a lucky girl you are. Want to play with Mimi and Paw-Paw and Pop-Pop?”

  “Mimi!” Sierra hollered, kissing her grandmother’s face. “Pop-pop, Paw-Paw!”

  Before heading upstairs to get ready, Skye pointed a finger at her father. “At least find the time to call Lena and explain the horse story. It’s ridiculous for you to feel so full of pride you won’t come clean about selling Spirit Walker. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Tell him Doug.”

  “Butt out, Skye,” Josh warned as he gave her a nudge toward the stairs. “It’s not your fight.”

  “True. But Lena’s very dear to me. I don’t want this ruining a long-time friendship.”

  “It won’t,” Travis promised. “I’ll have things straightened out by the time you guys get back.”

  Fifteen

  Wednesday afternoon

  Their meeting with Emmett took place at his family’s farm in the northwest corner of Snohomish County, surrounded by rolling hills and olive trees. They got out of the car dreading this confrontation.

  They’d worked with, and trusted Emmett for more than two years and frankly couldn’t believe he’d been so deceptive with them. But as with many relationships that go bad, they’d decided to deal with the betrayal head on and figure out a way to move beyond it.

  With a nervous stomach, Skye knocked on the door. It took only a few moments for Emmett to answer and usher them into the entryway.

  “How was the drive up?”

  Skye sent him a scowl. “Chitchat? Really? You know why we’re here. And it isn’t to admire your lovely olive tree orchard, although it is impressive.”

  “Goes back generations. I understand you may have found another family we should add to our list of victims?”

  “The Eberts,” Josh noted. “Missing man is the doctor, who had ties to an overseas deployment in an Iraq field hospital. We brought the file with us so you could make the determination for yourself. To us, the Ebert family should be included in the list of Cross-country Killer victims. But as Skye alluded to, there’s more at stake here than a new set of dead bodies.”

  With Chinook blood running through his veins, Emmett was usually a straight-shooter. But today Skye noticed the man looked downright agitated by their presence. “Is this a bad time?”

  Emmett drew in a shaky breath. “You guys have every right to be upset. I should’ve known I couldn’t fool you for long. Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “I could use some water,” Josh said as an excuse to buy time while he and Skye made sure they were on the same page. But Emmett didn’t leave them alone long enough to huddle. Instead the FBI profiler kept walking deeper into the house.

  “Come on into my study and get comfortable. There’s a wet bar there where I keep water in the fridge when I’m writing.”

  Skye glanced around the tastefully decorated room and decided Mrs. Cannavale knew a thing or two about décor. “How’s the book coming on Dillard Barstow or, as he was known in Seattle, Theron King?”

  “Release date is June 26th, which means this summer I’ll be on a book tour for at least a month. Are we all comfortable and calmed down enough to talk?”

  “Calm,” Skye muttered. “But I won’t promise for how long. Why the redacted files, Emmett?”

  “That was an honest mistake.”

  “What about the fact that there’s no real FBI investigation?”

  “Okay, the truth. As soon as the FBI stumbled on this information and they let me in on it, I called Harry. Together we decided to take the Maldonado case to the sheriff’s department where we found absolutely zero interest after a month-long follow up.”

  With that one statement Skye realized just how far back this went. “Oh, my God. That was before those kayakers ever stumbled on Christy’s remains, wasn’t it?”

  To his credit, Emmett looked sheepish. “That low-level FBI analyst came across these murders more than a year ago. But that information is not to leave this room.”

  Skye sent Emmett a look of di
sbelief before turning her scowl on Josh. “I’ll say it again. I couldn’t work as a regular cop. No way. Too many stupid decisions that lead up to not taking any action at all. That’s just ridiculous. While no one wanted to touch this case, he added more victims to his body count.”

  Emmett looked at Josh for support.

  But Josh shook his head. Wanting more detail before he issued that kind of backup, he asked, “Did the sheriff’s department say why they weren’t interested?”

  “They didn’t have to spell it out. To them it was a cold case, too cold. They didn’t even have Christy’s body back then. They believed at the time that it would likely never be solved.”

  “Okay, that is ridiculous,” Josh stated, weighing in. “With the right look at the right evidence, any case is solvable.”

  Emmett leaned back into his cushy sofa. “But that’s just it. Most people don’t understand how things work in law enforcement. If high profile murders pull you into pursuing a case, then it’s fair to say budget constraints jerk you away from the unpopular ones.”

  Skye blew out a long, slow breath that did little to calm her temper. “And the Maldonado case is unpopular? Is that what you’re telling us? The Maldonados were just regular people, no high profile angle to warrant any interest.”

  “Not just that one case. All these cases are. Why? Because there’s no solid proof that there’s a connection to any of them, no link whatsoever that pulls them together. We suspect there is but…proving it is…damn near impossible.”

  “I see.” Skye got to her feet and threw her arms out wide. “So you’ve chosen to completely ignore those Monopoly game pieces found at each crime scene, huh? Found, I might add, beside each victim he murdered.”

  Emmett scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck before leaning forward to make his point. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘ignore.’ Other than the MO, those game pieces are about the only thing that connects each murder. But there’s not a sheriff out there who’s willing to make the call and okay going after a case like this when it covers the entire U.S., based on a bunch of game pieces. Trust me on that.”

  “That’s just sad,” Skye noted. “Have you given any thought to what these game pieces might represent?”

  “Many serial killers leave calling cards of one type or another. These tokens might be his.”

  Skye sent Josh a look that appealed to his sense of reason before turning back to Emmett. “And that’s it? A first-year student in criminal justice could’ve figured that one out. So where does that leave us exactly?”

  “Look, Harry and I pulled you guys into this because if there is a serial killer out there we know you two are the ones who can find him and stop him.”

  Without any encouragement from Skye, Josh’s own anger flared, bright and hot. “So we basically are on our own in this, is that right? Don’t you think that’s something you might’ve told us upfront? We have a daughter now. We needed to know the truth to assess how much our involvement might put us at risk. Something happens to both of us out there, and we leave our daughter an orphan. Does that even bother you in the least?”

  “Of course it does. Look, I’m sorry. I should’ve leveled with you guys from the get-go. I know that now.”

  “That’s an understatement,” a pissed-off Josh snarled. “We trusted you. So…let’s say we find this guy, how do we bring him in without any authority backing us up? What are we supposed to do? Whip out our membership card at Costco?”

  “You find him, we’ll take him down,” Emmett boasted.

  “Who’s we?” Skye wanted to know. “That’s a logical question. You need to be more specific. Who exactly will we be waiting to show up? And after pinpointing where he is, how do we contact these people? How does that even work? We usually call Harry. But you and I both know Harry has no more authority than we have. What do we do, make a citizen’s arrest? While we’re waiting, do we sit around until the FBI decides to show up? Maybe we should ask the killer if he wants to play a game of Monopoly until the feds get to the scene.”

  “You can’t hang us out to dry like this, Emmett,” Josh stated emphatically. “We’re trying to understand why we should bother with this guy when the FBI doesn’t want him bad enough to spend a few bucks going after him.”

  Skye clenched her teeth together in frustration. “We don’t even know where he lives or where his next attack will be. It’s not like we can phone ahead and say for certain the killer will grace us with his presence.”

  Emmett stood up and began to pace. “Okay, okay, I get it. Let me call in a few favors from the bureau and I’ll set things up accordingly.”

  Josh looked at Skye and shook his head. “Vague. Very vague. I have to tell you, Emmett, it doesn’t leave me with a warm and fuzzy feeling about confronting this guy.”

  “I promise I’ll turn things around. You’ll see. Nothing to worry about. I’ll coordinate everything from here.”

  Once they were back in the minivan, a rattled Skye turned to Josh. “I lied to Dad. I told him we’d be backed up by the FBI, that this was nothing more than a consulting situation.”

  “You didn’t lie. You weren’t given the proper information. Big difference.”

  Skye felt unsettled, angry. “But remember the conversation we had with him. He acted as if he already knew we’d somehow be hung out to dry. All that talk about the crow he saw in his dream telling him what we were doing would be dangerous. Turns out, the crow knew more than we did. For the first time I feel betrayed and used by the very people I’m trying to help.”

  Josh squeezed her fingers. “We’ll make it work. This isn’t the first time we’ve been on our own.”

  “Yeah? And look how that turned out. What are we gonna do, Josh? Who do we use for backup? Somehow, I can’t see Winston, Reggie, and Leo, armed and dangerous, staring down a serial killer, let alone capturing one.”

  “Cornering one maybe, but capturing will be our job.”

  “I’m calling Harry. He needs to know how upset we are about this.”

  But once she explained things to Harry, the former detective seemed just as angry as they were.

  “Damn that Emmett. I thought I could count on him. He never once mentioned any of this to me. Hey, if you need backup, just tell me when and where.”

  “I love you, Harry. But how does Elizabeth feel about all this? I don’t want the responsibility of putting your life in danger.”

  “Don’t you worry none about me. She’s getting used to my being a curmudgeon about this retired business. She knows I’m not ready to fully accept my life out to pasture. Which makes me bring this up one more time. Don’t you think our enterprise needs a name…officially?”

  “Our enterprise? You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Much to Elizabeth’s regret, you bet I am.”

  “I know you, Harry. What exactly is rattling around in that head of yours?”

  “Ander Drummond Investigations.”

  Skye let her head fall back in laughter. “Okay. I’ll run that by Mr. Ander and see if he’s willing. Look, it’s perfectly okay if you want to call it Drummond Investigations and leave our name out of it.”

  “Really? I could call it that and you wouldn’t be upset? Why?”

  “I’m surprised you have to ask. You’re the actual professional here, the one who spent thirty years on the force, most of that time in homicide. You’re the talent, we’re the muscle.”

  Harry cackled into the phone. “That’s what I love about you, Skye. No matter what, you never lose your sense of humor.”

  “Do me a favor. Make sure Elizabeth knows about this backup offer. Something tells me she won’t approve.”

  “Want me to bring along a note saying she’s given me permission?”

  Skye hooted with laughter. “Could you? Look, we’ve gone after a lot of kooks before, but something tells me this guy is a whole other breed. Just make sure you come armed and prepared for anything.”

  Sixteen

 
; Wednesday

  Two thousand miles from Seattle

  While Skye and Josh were assessing just how dangerous the Cross-country Killer had become, the predator made plans to come out and play. He usually waited until the spring for his first attack of the year—after the winter had thawed and it was warm enough to enjoy the outdoors. But since his first kill as a civilian on that hot, steamy night in Georgia, he’d shaped his routine into what suited him best.

  Four times a year he managed to come up with the right set of excuses to slip away from the corporate world he’d come to detest. Two of those trips were usually to run recon missions while the others were to carry out the actual attacks—coordinated with professional precision, or so he liked to think.

  His wife had been a college-educated career woman who’d relished her role as a corporate executive in her daddy’s company, a booze-making business that went back generations. He’d married old money—knowing how much the wife loved her job—so much that she couldn’t spare the time to keep in touch with her own husband while he served his country overseas.

  Lying bitch.

  At first, he’d liked Maitlin’s aloofness. She wasn’t one to interfere in his personal space or stay on his case with a bunch of where’ve-you-been type questions. But that lasted about as long as a camera flash. Once she’d started getting curious about how he spent his time, he started concocting the stories, the excuses. He pretended to like a host of pursuits—fishing, hunting, boating, and sports. What man didn’t like his seasonal baseball and football games?