The Bones of Others

by Vickie McKeehan

  Like right now. Instead of taking care of business, what was he doing? He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Skye Melody Cree. Hell, Friday night when he’d left the office for happy hour he’d never even heard of the woman. And now…he didn’t want to wait six hours until he saw her again. He wanted to make sure she never got hurt again or suffered pain or…he scrubbed a hand over his face.

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight. But by God if she had to face Ronny Wayne Whitfield on her terms, he wanted to be there with her when she did.

  Embroiled in the disappearance of a child, Harry didn’t have time to waste on half-baked ideas or theories. But when they came out of the mouth of Skye Cree, he decided to give her fifteen minutes of face time. Instead of delivering the news about Jenna to him over the phone, the two had agreed to meet at Country Kitchen.

  He’d just sat down when Skye went into her spiel by prefacing things with her usual “don’t ask me how I know” routine. She mentioned the Brandon Hiller angle before leading Harry into the bad news that he was no longer looking for a kidnapped victim but a murdered one.

  It didn’t take long for Skye to get an earful from Harry. And the seasoned detective wasn’t buying it for a minute. “So, in addition to your other skills, you’ve now developed psychic abilities? Do I have that right? Since when?”

  “You really can be an ass sometimes, you know that?”

  “Unless you can be more specific, a lot more, you’re way out of line here, Skye. The way I figure it, that girl’s been gone less than twelve hours. She still has a chance…”

  “You know the statistics as well as I do. No, actually better than I do. Every hour that passes increases the likelihood that she won’t be found alive. Be realistic.”

  “Only if you come clean. Now!”

  Skye understood the fury, expected it. Anytime a child was involved, hurt, it took a toll on everyone involved. But in her effort to get him to listen she moved past the rage. “Hiller probably waited until he was sure the father wasn’t coming back right away before he made his move. By the way, have you checked out Hiller’s connection to Whitfield? The one I mentioned yesterday. I found some information on the Internet that clearly…”

  Harry had heard enough. “Goddamn it, Skye! Not all child abductions in this city revolve around Ronny Wayne Whitfield.”

  “Says you. I know what I know.”

  “And won’t disclose how.”

  “I’m trying to help. You wanted my help. You called me.”

  “A bad decision I’m now regretting. Look, I checked out Hiller after our conversation yesterday, couldn’t find a single time he’d ever crossed paths with Whitfield. Hiller did his time in Clallam Bay, Ronny at Walla Walla. Five hundred miles apart, Skye. And years apart. So, yeah, I looked into it. Now what? I don’t have time for this. I’d hoped when you called that you had something solid, verifiable. I see now—” He pointed his finger at her and cautioned, “You need to move on, or whatever, get past this goddamned fixation on Whitfield. I know he ruined your life, took a part of you you’ll never be able to get back, but you need to stop this obsession and let it go.”

  “Harry, why didn’t you ever mention that there have been five other girls reported missing since Hiller got out of prison?”

  “Where the hell did you get that kind of information? Who the hell told you that? If I find out anyone’s been leaking—” He rubbed at his throbbing temple. “I’m wasting my breath.”

  “That’s what the Internet’s for right along with SEO. I can use a computer, Harry.”

  “You know damn well, I’m not at liberty to discuss an open case, Skye. Besides, I’m only one detective. I don’t handle all the missing persons cases in town. You know that.”

  “Hmm, something to consider. Who does? I mean which detectives specifically get assigned to missing persons?”

  “You don’t need to know that.” He slammed his fist on the table in frustration. “What’s gotten into you? This preoccupation of yours has got to stop! Now you’re taking it up a notch by telling me the Donofrio girl’s dead. Damn it, I want you to tell me how you know that.”

  About the time Skye was about to go head to head with Harry over those words, Josh walked up to the table.

  “And you need to ease off, Drummond,” Josh demanded, although he too was curious as to how exactly Skye knew Jenna Donofrio wasn’t coming home.

  Skye’s eyes went wide at the way Josh spoke to the cop. This combative side to him was different than the geeky nerd she’d come to—care about.

  Harry stared at Josh. “Who the hell are you? On second thought, I don’t care. Right now, I’ve got a little girl to find.” Harry threw some bills on the table and stood up. “I’d love to blame this on you,” he told Josh. “But I know better. She’s pretty much been like this since she was sixteen. God knows I’ve tried to get her to give up this notion that she sees Ronny Wayne hiding behind every tree or building or park in Seattle, especially now that Hiller is involved. I give up!”

  “Can you blame her after what the bastard…?”

  “Oh great. She’s turned you into a fanatic believer as well. Ronny Wayne is a monster, no question about that. But Whitfield is not the answer to every child abduction that occurs within a seventy-mile radius of Seattle. The sooner you get that through your thick head and hers, the better off you’ll both be.” With that, Harry stalked off leaving Josh staring down at Skye.

  “He’s under a lot of stress,” Skye said.

  “That’s no excuse to rail on you like that.”

  “True. It isn’t the first time we’ve yelled at each other. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

  “How do you know Jenna Donofrio is dead?”

  Her loud sigh indicated to Josh getting any information would require a certain amount of patience and a lot of motivation to open up. So he slid into the booth across from her, signaled Velma over. “Hey, Velma. How’s it going? You working a double shift or something? You were here less than twelve hours ago.”

  “Thanks for noticing. I often work a double when lazy-good-for-nothing waitresses don’t show up for their own shift. And it’s going fine now that Bill’s out of my hair.” She leaned in for effect and added, “Went fishing for two days. I’m gonna be dead on my feet by two this afternoon. But you know what? I’m determined to have me one of those girls’ nights out with my sister this very evening while he’s gone. Going to the movies, see that new gangster movie starring that little hottie Ryan Gosling. I don’t mind a bit admitting that’s one man that flat out gets my blood pumping. Listen to me go on, I know you didn’t come in here to get a great big ol’ status update on my life. Now, what can I get you two for chow?”

  “A tuna on wheat toast with fries and an iced tea for me. Skye?”

  “The breakfast special and another coffee will be fine.”

  “English muffin, right?”

  Skye nodded and Velma left them alone.

  “Okay. I’ll ask again. How do you know the Donofrio girl is already deceased?”

  “What makes you think I’ll tell you when I’ve known Harry more than a dozen years and won’t open up to him? If it’s because I…slept with you, think again.”

  “Please. You’ll tell me because I won’t stop asking until you do. Does it have anything to do with the silver wolf with violet eyes I saw on the streets last night?”

  “You mean the white Australian shepherd?”

  “Save it. This morning during my staff meeting, which should’ve held my interest and had me deeply engrossed in the status reports from each of my department heads, I got curious. While I listened to my crew go over the bugs in the new code, and all manner of other issues, I went on the Internet and searched Native American folklore and customs. Guess what? I got about two million hits on varying tales covering all kinds of different spirit guides. It’s a fairly common belief among most Native Americans that from the time a person is born some type of animal or bird is reported to guide the child fro
m adolescence through adulthood and beyond, most notably appearing to the youth around the age of twelve or thirteen. The wolf is an extremely popular symbol. I’d say the silver wolf I saw is yours and is the reason you were able to ditch Whitfield that day. I’m surprised Harry hasn’t figured it out, seeing as how he’s known you so much longer than I have.”

  Sarcasm aside, Skye blinked at the realization Josh not only accepted the wolf’s existence as lore but that he seemed to take it in stride.

  He studied the stunned look on her face before adding, “I still say I could design one helluva game featuring you and the wolf.”

  That brought her back to reality. “How many times do I have to say it? My private life is not an open book laid out for someone to play on a stupid game console. It isn’t. I’ve had enough people looking at me as though I carried around some disease to last a lifetime. I’m not willing to be the object of snickering idiots who figure out it’s me in your world of game fantasy. Got that?”

  “Loud and clear. But you shouldn’t deny me my fantasies.”

  Velma approached, set down their plates, eyed the tension between the two and decided to make it quick. “Refills?”

  “Sure,” Josh replied jovially as he watched Velma pour coffee and tea in a flurry. He waited until she took off before he said, “You didn’t exactly deny that it’s a Nez Perce fable.”

  “How can I deny what you found on the Internet? It’s there. It’s enjoyable, fanciful reading. It offers a reasonable explanation of the legend. My grandmother used to spin tales all the time like that. But…that’s all they were.” She picked up her coffee, sipped. And made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes. Something, she wasn’t sure what, made her want to let go of the burden once and for all. But with the next breath, she came to her senses. She cut into her eggs, forked up hash browns to go with it and declared, “But the silver wolf’s a nice touch.”

  He munched on his sandwich, leaned back, took a long slow drink of his iced tea, set down his glass. “It’s probably a coincidence then that the wolf is a hunter—like you.”

  She stewed over his reasoning while the food she tried to swallow all but lodged in her throat. Finally she blurted out, “You think you want to know. But really…you’re better off keeping your distance from me.”

  It was like a slap in the face but he wasn’t going to let her know she’d struck a nerve. If she wanted to play that game he wasn’t going to let her evade any longer either. “Why? Because you don’t want to discuss and share things that are important to you? That’s fine, I get that. But you’re really lousy at bluffing. Do you really want me to do that, to keep my distance?”

  “I can’t have children,” she blurted out.

  Josh blinked. Now it was his turn for shock to register. “Son of a bitch.”

  He got up, slid into her side of the booth. He took her chin, snatched up her hand from the table, worked his fingers into hers and held on. He tilted her head up so her eyes were forced to look into his. “Remember when I told you that I thought you were the strongest person I’d ever met? I meant that. It wasn’t just a line. If you think this makes a difference in how I feel? It doesn’t. Why’d you tell me anyway…here…now…like this?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know…I thought…you deserved to know because…I…I don’t want you to keep your distance.”

  “Like that was going to happen,” he confessed before bending his head so he could take her mouth. At the touch of lips, the flame caught, crackled to life in blazing white.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. When do we have our first training session?”

  “You still want to go through with that?”

  And knowing what Whitfield had done to her, what she’d suffered at the bastard’s hands, he was more determined than ever. “Of course, I want to put my many moves into practice.”

  She snickered. “Okay. But it’s your body. How about we start tonight?”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Let’s hope you still feel that way after I’m done with you.”

  After forty-five minutes of lifting weights with Skye in her so-called gym, Josh was out of breath and realized that he was woefully out of shape, more so than he’d thought. Funny how inactivity like sitting in front of a keyboard all day could cause the muscles to forget what they’d been meant for in the first place. He tried to finish running the two miles on the treadmill before he dropped.

  “How you doing over there?” Skye asked with a bit of a smirk on her face.

  “Peachy thanks,” he huffed out. “Is there any particular reason you don’t belong to a regular gym?”

  “Missing ogling the women already, huh?”

  “I’m missing beverages mostly,” he returned, wiping sweat from his face with the tail of his T-shirt.

  “There’s water,” she said and pointed to a tiny mini-fridge under the stairs.

  Josh pushed the Stop button on the machine, waited for it to finish its cycle and then stepped down. The old cooler held nothing but water bottles. He uncapped one and guzzled the contents. But as he stood there something caught his eye. The door to an area no bigger than a broom closet stood open, allowing him to get a look inside. His eyes zeroed in on an ancient metal desk. Above it hung a large paper street map of Seattle with various stickpins strategically placed dotting the points of interest. But the pins were coordinated with colored yarn, which in turn had a photograph of a young teen or child attached to it. He pointed to the makeshift office. “What is this?”

  “It’s what I like to call my war room,” she explained as she took the bottle of water out of his hands and drank generously.

  “All these pins represent missing children?”

  “Sadly, yes. Some recent, some go back years. But all have one thing in common. They all disappeared without a trace and the cases remain unsolved.”

  “That’s…horrific. Don’t they usually form a task force when so many go missing?”

  She let out a loud sigh. “You’d think. But in this case the missing comes from several different jurisdictions, not Seattle specifically. That itself poses a problem and provides for a lack of continuity between police departments, a lack of a combined effort. And then there’s the problem of teen runaways, and yes, including preteen children. Kids do run away. Just look at Zoe. She took off apparently because of her mother’s boyfriend. Some of these kids have difficulties at home so they’re likely to storm out for a variety of reasons, and not want to go back. But the problem compounds itself when the police tend to lump missing teens into one category, mostly chalk up the disappearance to teen rebellion. Once they decide the kids booked simply because they get mad after a fight with mom or dad, or got a burr up their butt, and took off, it’s a major problem with the case. You have no one actively looking for those considered runaways. Big gap there. Kids do take off on their own but they’re eventually found or come back. That doesn’t account for the ones on that map, the exceptions. The ones that had no reason to take off on their own, the ones where communication likely broke down between agencies, that’s why I put them on my map. People like Whitfield count on that. Advantage Whitfield.”

  “That’s reason enough to organize this thing.”

  “Organize? I’m not sure what you mean. I just don’t want these kids forgotten.”

  “With you, I don’t think that’s possible.” Josh noted the sad look that settled in her eyes so he changed the subject. He pulled her to him, nibbled on her lower lip to work his tongue inside.

  She ran her hand up his chest, felt his heart pounding with the effort to cap off the run he’d just finished. “You’re awfully sweaty. How much longer do you want to…workout?”

  “How much privacy do we have down here?”

  Her answer came by tugging off his T-shirt, running her tongue along his bare shoulders, licking at the drops of sweat sticking there. “Maybe you could show me again what I’m supposed to do? I’m a real fast learner, but kind of like training f
or battle, I believe in—lots of practice.”

  “Plenty of repetition? Not a bad belief system.” When she started to back him up against the wall, he muttered, “Now we’re talking.”

  Hours later, they made a stop at Lena’s house to assess the Zoe situation for themselves. It wasn’t everyday Skye found herself taken in by a street brat. But that’s exactly what had happened.

  Curiosity about how she’d been fooled had Skye staring at Zoe as the girl sat across the living room slumped in a chair holding Lena’s Kindle Fire in her lap.

  “Zoe likes to read. She’s rediscovered Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” Lena explained when she saw Skye glaring at the girl.

  But Skye could hardly believe it was the same person they’d dropped off the night before because the young male had somehow morphed into a teen girl. Even with her hair cut short like a boy’s, Skye should’ve been able to pick up on the fact that Zeke had been a Zoe.

  Now that Skye really looked into the huge doe eyes that were way too big for the face, she could see that face had a little too many female traits. For one, it was more rounded than square-shaped. The nose turned up slightly at the end. The eyebrows were more arched. The forehead more vertical. But Skye had to give it to the kid. Zoe had certainly done an excellent job with her disguise.

  Dressed in an oversized but clean T-shirt and freshly laundered jeans, the girl looked almost content.

  “Are you mad?” Zoe asked, finally taking her attention away from Harry Potter. “Josh said you’d be furious if you found out I lied.”

  “Why did you?”

  “You can’t be a girl on the streets without men trying to mess with you!” Zoe bellowed in return. “I had to make sure they thought I was a boy. I chopped off my hair in the restroom at the convenience store after the second day when I almost got raped by two old guys who kept trying to grab me so I’d sleep with them in their box.”