The Quiet Bones

by V. J. Chambers

  He searched her email for other credit cards, ones he hadn’t known about, but Janessa didn’t have anything like that, and it wasn’t because she’d deleted the emails. She had notices of statements from the other credit cards.

  He logged off, feeling a little guilty for going through her personal information like that. He was also feeling deflated.

  This whole thing, it was ridiculous. No matter what he’d said to Janessa, he didn’t want to go back to a legal battle. It didn’t matter that she’d been sleeping with this guy while they were married, not really, because it wasn’t going to change anything.

  He didn’t have it in him to go through any more fighting with her.

  It was only, in the moment, he’d been angry. A bright flame of indignation. But he was pretty sure it was burned out now, and he was done with this.

  He clicked over to his own email account, and there was a message from Lopez asking when he was going to schedule his inservice with the department psychologist considering he’d shot and killed a man in the field.

  Well, except he hadn’t shot and killed anyone. Wren had done it. And she was fine.

  Damn it.

  What the hell was he going to say to the stupid shrink? And when the hell was he supposed to find time to do that, considering he’d just caught another serial killer case?

  He shot an email back to Lopez, saying that he was crazy busy right now, how far could they push it back? He also said he was feeling fine, no worries.

  He sent the email and then wondered if he should have said the thing about being fine. Were you supposed to be fine after you shot and killed someone?

  Well, but Kyler Morris was a murderer who’d just shot his wife in cold blood and had been about to shoot Wren, so he’d deserved it.

  Man.

  Was Wren fine?

  Reilly hadn’t really talked to her about it, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It was funny, because—in some ways—he felt incredibly comfortable with Wren, and she’d fit right into the task force as if she belonged here. But in other ways, he felt like he tiptoed around her. He never wanted to bring up things about her past. Her mother. The fact she’d been brought up in a cult. Her weird history with Hawk Marner, which might have included being molested as a ten-year-old and now she was getting coffee with him, and what the fuck was that?

  Yeah, great. Wren Delacroix had been through hell. The weight of her past had made her crack before. She’d dropped out of the FBI Academy and imploded her life, as she’d put it. So, perfect, now she’d killed a guy. Like that wasn’t going to put pressure on her?

  He left his office to go looking for her, but she wasn’t in her office.

  “Looking for Delacroix?” said Maliah.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said, and now he felt guilty for having been stalking Janessa during work, instead of trying to crack this case.

  “She left,” said Maliah. “Said something about needing a change of scenery to clear her head. She’s still trying to work up a profile.”

  The profile. Fuck. He’d been joking about putting pressure on her about that, but here she was, trying to deal with everything that had happened. How could he have forgotten about the fact she’d killed Morris? He shook his head.

  “You doing okay, Cai?” said Maliah.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said.

  He went back to his office and fished out his phone. He dialed Wren’s number.

  It went to voicemail.

  He sighed.

  He needed to talk to her. He needed to apologize. He needed her to take it easy on herself.

  * * *

  Wren had been out in the woods, huddled into her jacket, trying to make heads or tails of the profile. She thought maybe that moving around would help her get her head around it, but the more she walked, the more confused she felt.

  At first, she thought that expanding the crime to two killers would make things easier, but now she felt as though it simply introduced more questions than it answered. She couldn’t figure anything out.

  Even being outside, walking under the autumn afternoon sun did nothing to help. It was colder these days than it had been even a week ago, as if the last blush of summer had truly been abolished.

  She trudged back to her cabin and found her phone. She’d gone walking without it so that she wouldn’t have any distractions. There was a missed call from Reilly, a missed call from her father, and a voicemail.

  She dialed the voicemail, a little anxious. Was there another body? Had she missed hearing about it because she’d been walking and trying to figure out the profile?

  The thing was, they were a little ahead of the game here with this killer. It usually took a while for a pattern to become established and for people to realize that a serial killer was at work. Serial killers also had long cooling-off periods, especially when they were first starting out.

  A killer might fantasize about killing for a long time, and the desire for it would build up in him until it burst and then he actually did it. That kill would sustain him for a long time. The memory of it would be enough. He might even take trophies or souvenirs and get them out to allow himself to relive it over and over again. It would be potent for a long time. He wouldn’t need to kill again until the urge built back up.

  So, it could be a very long time before this killer killed again.

  Then again, with a killer who was so public about his intentions, maybe not.

  Truthfully, the way the scene had looked, Wren wouldn’t have been surprised if the killer weren’t a spree killer, who might have simply snapped and would now go on a rampage. However, enough time had passed that it probably wasn’t that.

  Anyway, they might have some time before they had another body on this case. If they could figure out who had done it and why, they might be able to stop him before he ever killed again. She hoped so.

  The voicemail was from her father. He wanted her to call him back. He had “news.”

  She dialed his number and went to curl up on her bed in her bedroom.

  “Wren!” said her father when he picked up the phone. “I’m so glad you called me back.”

  “Dad, come on, are you ever going to get over the fact that I avoided your calls for a few weeks?”

  “Worst weeks of my life,” said her father. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I texted you a few times to tell you that I was alive.”

  “And that was it,” said her father. “For all I knew, some crazy man had you and he was using your phone to text me.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that. I should have.”

  “You’re the reason that I thought of it. You remember that case you told me about where the guy had his girlfriend’s phone, taking pictures and posting them to Instagram for weeks?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Really sorry. Really.”

  He sighed. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She laughed. “No? You didn’t just call to bitch me out?”

  He laughed too. “I have news.”

  “Yes, so you said in the voicemail.” She stretched out against her pillow. “Tell me everything.”

  “I’m getting married!”

  She sat up straight. “No way. Really? Paul finally popped the question, or did you ask him?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t really like that. We were talking and we just decided we’d do it,” he said. “We both got engagement rings.”

  She laughed again. “Oh, awesome. Take a picture, Dad. Send it to me.”

  “I can’t figure out how to do that while I’m on the phone with you,” he said.

  “Fine, send it after.”

  “It’s not a diamond,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “We both got turquoise,” he said. “It’s very tasteful. We’ve picked out the matching wedding bands, too, but we aren’t wearing those yet, of course.”

  “Ooh, I like. I’m so happy for you, Dad, that’s really great.”

 
; “I’m happy too,” said her dad. “And I want you to come home for the wedding.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, of course.”

  “You’re not going to blow this off?”

  “I wouldn’t miss your wedding!”

  “Well, you won’t come home, and I saw on the news that they arrested the man killing those girls.”

  “It was Major Hill. You remember Major, right?”

  “I don’t remember all those kids’ names,” said her dad quietly. “I try not to think back on my time at the FCL. Not very many good memories.”

  “Right,” she said. “Of course.”

  “Anyway, you’ll just need to let me know if you’re bringing a plus one,” said her dad. “We need to know for the caterers.”

  “No,” she said. “It’ll just be me.”

  “You don’t have to decide yet,” said her father. “But soon. We aren’t waiting a long time for this. It’s going to be a simple ceremony, and it’s not going to be elaborate. So, it’s only a few weeks out. If you change your mind and find some dark horse contender to bring to the wedding, let me know.”

  “Dad, seriously, there’s no one,” she said. She thought of Hawk, of course, but he wasn’t the kind of guy that came as a plus one to her father’s wedding.

  * * *

  “Hey,” said Reilly, looking up from his beer. He was sitting at the bar at Billy’s. He almost hadn’t come here, afraid of running into Maliah, but then he’d decided he didn’t want to be alone, so he’d come in.

  Wren was standing over him. “Hey.”

  “You, uh, how are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her.

  She twisted her hands together. “I wasn’t going to come here. I was afraid I might run into…”

  “Me?”

  “No, not you. It’s fine to see you.” She smiled. “Hawk or something, I guess.”

  “Right.” Reilly furrowed his brow. “Look, I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything to you, but…” He had decided that forcing her to have a a conversation about her childhood experiences would be abusive too. If she wanted to talk about what happened, she could bring it up. But now, with her and Hawk together, he couldn’t be sure she wasn’t in trouble again. “I guess if that man is, you know, manipulating you in some way, hurting you—”

  “Whoa,” she said. “What the hell? Where would you get that idea?”

  He licked his lips, considering. “You know what? Forget it.”

  “You don’t like him,” she said. “I get it. And I thought he was a serial killer too. But he’s harmless.”

  “So, you’re, uh, getting coffee with him?” Reilly raised his eyebrows. “Even though it was easy for you to think he was a serial killer?”

  Wren’s lips parted.

  The bartender came over right then and asked for Wren’s order. Wren ordered a beer. The bartender got it out of the cooler.

  Reilly decided not to bring the subject back up. Wren was a grown woman. She was tough. She knew how to get help if she needed it, and she probably didn’t need it. She could take care of herself. At least he hoped she could. He cleared his throat. “Not to keep in on heavy subjects, but, um, I thought maybe we should talk about Kyler Morris.”

  Wren settled down on a bar stool next to him. “What about him?”

  “I just, you know, how are you doing with that?”

  “Fine,” she said into her beer bottle. “Really fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Why are you bringing this up?”

  “Well, since I took the fall for it, I’ve got to go see some shrink,” he said. “I, uh, it just made me realize that if you needed to talk to someone, you didn’t have that. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It, uh, you know, I don’t think about it.” She took a drink of her beer. “I mean, he was going to kill me, and it happened so fast. I fired on instinct.”

  “Right,” he said, nodding. “It’s totally normal to feel guilty or to be a little off kilter.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’ve been teasing you about the profile—”

  “I’m fine, Reilly.”

  He settled back on his bar stool and took a long drink of his beer.

  She snagged her beer.

  Several long, silent moments passed between them.

  “Okay,” said Reilly. “Sorry.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  And then it was quiet again.

  “So, um, my wife is getting married,” said Reilly. He winced. “My ex-wife.”

  “Oh,” said Wren. “Uh, how do you feel about that?”

  “I’m pissed off.” He took a drink of beer.

  “Sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t be.” He turned back to Wren. “I don’t even know why I am. It’s stupid. I should be fine with her moving on, but it’s so soon, you know. I haven’t moved on.”

  Wren raised her eyebrows.

  He looked down at his drink. “It’s not the same.”

  “You and Maliah are sleeping together, so, it kind of seems like you’ve moved on.”

  “It’s not like it’s an on-going thing,” said Reilly. “We did sleep together. In the past.”

  “And it’s never going to happen again?”

  “I…” Reilly shrugged. “She’s still married.”

  “Yeah, so I hear.” She cocked her head. “But if Maliah left her husband, would you want that with her?”

  Reilly finished his beer and set it down on the bar. “I don’t know.”

  “Well…” Wren gave him a half-smile. “I think it’s okay to be pissed off.”

  “Is it?” he said. “Even if it’s my fault that the marriage broke up in the first place? It’s hypocritical.”

  “Well, maybe.” She considered. “But you can’t help how you feel.”

  “Look.” He slid his phone across the bar to her. “That’s the guy.” He had seen a Facebook post, announcing the relationship status. Janessa’s fiance was named Garth Gardner. He was white. Not that Reilly cared about that. Didn’t mean anything. Didn’t matter.

  “He, um…” Wren cocked her head to one side. “You’re definitely more attractive than him.”

  Reilly suddenly burst out laughing.

  “What?” said Wren, but she was grinning. Soon, she was laughing too.

  “So, you’ve been checking me out, then?”

  “What?” Wren was blushing. “No. I just… you know, objectively speaking. Like you’ve never considered if I’m attractive?”

  He looked away. “All right, all right, whatever.”

  “Oh, so you haven’t?” Wren picked up her beer. “I guess you think I’m butt ugly.”

  “Hey!” He spread his hands. “No fair. Yes, okay, I have considered your objective attractiveness.”

  “And?”

  “And, you’re too good for Hawk Marner.”

  She looked down.

  It was quiet again.

  Damn it, why had he said that? He rapped his knuckles against the bar, looking around for the bartender.

  “Uh, speaking of marriages, my dad is getting married.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He turned back to her, happy of the subject change.

  “Yeah, he called me and told me the news today,” she said. “I don’t know if I told you, but my dad is gay, so it’s a big deal. They couldn’t get married even a few years ago, so it’s, you know, really cool.”

  “It is,” he said, grinning. “You never talk about your family.”

  “Neither do you,” she said.

  “Well, you know, it’s… sometimes it’s hard.”

  She nodded. “Because of your mother. Sorry, I forgot.”

  “I told you?”

  “Yeah, that she was killed by Mark Quentin Rhoads,” she said.

  “Right, you told me you interviewed him.”

  “I should have never said that. It was such a shitty thing to say.”

  “No, it’s fine,” said Reilly. �
�It’s really—”

  “Something’s wrong with me,” she said. “When I hear about crimes, I don’t always think about victims and their families and sometimes I wonder if I inherited some kind of horrible legacy from my mother.”

  “Hey, no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to make you think anything like that.”

  “I really am fine about Kyler Morris,” she said. “Like really fine. Like it didn’t bother me at all. Not at all.”

  He swallowed.

  “Shit,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want…” She downed her beer and set it down.

  “Hey, Wren, come on. Morris was a piece of shit. Don’t waste any time on him, okay?”

  She sniffed. “Yeah, okay.”

  A brief silence.

  “So,” Reilly said. “I’m going to get another round, and—” His phone was ringing. He pulled it out. He grimaced.

  “What?” she said.

  He put the phone to his ear. “Reilly.”

  “Hi there, Detective Reilly,” said the voice on the other end. “Bad news here, I’m afraid. We’ve got ourselves another body.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Wren stood at the end of the table in the school library and stared at the body that had been laid out there. She was completely flummoxed. Nothing made sense. This body was naked, like the last body had been, but it was in a further state of decay. The victim had been dead for at least a week, and the skin was mottled and gray, bloated in some places. The body hardly looked human anymore.

  It was arranged spread eagle on the table, arms above the head. The hair had been pulled over one shoulder, splayed out over one of her breasts.

  This body was arranged.

  The last body hadn’t been.

  “Hey.” Reilly was at her shoulder.

  She turned to look at him. “Hey. We sure this is the same guy?”

  “Maybe not,” said Reilly. “You said there could be two killers. But the bullet, it looks like it could have come from the same handgun. And apparently, there’s vaginal and anal trauma, like with the last one. Looks like she was penetrated by an object.”

  “Huh,” said Wren.