Forgotten Bones

by Vickie McKeehan

  “So?” Zoe grunted. “What kind of people don’t want to help solve a girl’s disappearance? And we’re talking twelve girls. Why won’t they help us? What are they hiding?”

  “They did help us,” Skye insisted, looking over at Josh. “For example, the guy four houses down from Laurel’s house took several long moments before he answered our questions, during that time you could tell he was trying to bury a memory or come up with a quick story.”

  “What does that even mean?” Zoe asked, confusion written on her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Observations,” Josh returned. “Warren Lightfoot lives at that address. I sent his info to Harry who ran him for priors. He works as a meat inspector. His job includes traveling from one end of the County to the other. That fits our guy’s ability to move around.”

  “Not only that,” Skye began. “Harry discovered that about ten years ago Lightfoot was arrested for molesting one of his nieces. But the charges were dropped by his sister when he promised not to come around anymore.”

  Leo shifted in his seat. “And this guy lives four houses from Laurel? That sounds promising.”

  “Yep. Plus, he’s entrenched in the community, heads up the church choir, volunteers at a local youth club. He’s out and about enough that any of the girls would probably know him directly or recognize him on sight.”

  But Zoe wasn’t as willing to jump on the bandwagon. “Except Kamena McToyler. Kamena lived in Dog Creek. How would she bump into this Lightfoot guy?”

  “And would this Lightfoot guy have followed Gabby Knight down to Sawtooth Lake?” Judy inserted.

  “It’s possible,” Skye said. “But he’s our first red flag. Let’s take that to the bank for now and enjoy dinner. I’m starving.”

  The evening had already grown chilly and damp by the time Harry arrived at the restaurant with Sierra and Emmadine. Sometime after dark, purple-looking clouds had drifted overhead just waiting for the right moment to dump rainfall over the mountaintops. Spring was still in the air, a prelude to the cool summer nights ahead.

  The Staghorn Grill looked like something out of a fairytale in a former life. Made of stone, it might’ve been moved out of the Alps and dropped smack in the middle of the Idaho countryside. Surrounded by wooded acres filled with red cedar, spruce, and fir, a rustic timber motif greeted them as soon as they stepped inside.

  They settled into a booth in the back that accommodated their large group and perused the menu, calling out to each other what sounded good.

  “Man, I haven’t had a good chicken fried steak in years,” Leo remarked. “Not since I quit stopping at Country Kitchen. I’m having that.”

  “Not me,” Reggie said. “Nothing beats a cheeseburger and fries for comfort food after slogging around knocking on doors.”

  “I’m getting the pasta primavera,” Judy decided.

  The roundtable orders continued until everyone had claimed a favorite.

  “How was Sierra today?” Skye asked Emmadine.

  “That girl is a bundle of energy. She’s always doing something with the dogs or her dollies, or dancing to music, one of those. When she’s not bouncing off the ceiling, I worry what she’s up to. Your girl’s a pistol for sure.”

  “Like her mama,” Josh offered.

  “Like Mama,” Sierra squealed. “Uncle Harry says I’m a superpower.”

  Harry chuckled before clearing his throat. “What I said was that for a tiny tot she had superpowers and the lung capacity to let it be known to the world.”

  From across the table, Emmadine cackled with laughter. “She does have a set of pipes on her, especially when she’s in a stubborn mode and doesn’t want to do what she’s told.”

  “We’ll work on that,” Skye promised, pleased that Emmadine seemed to go the extra mile in getting to know her daughter.

  Josh ruffled Sierra’s hair. “Dancing could be a superpower.”

  In her booster chair, Sierra started to wriggle and dance to a beat only she could hear in her head. “Kiya dances with me. So does Emmadine. We groovin’ to the music.”

  “That’s right. My cousin has some moves or used to. Why don’t you show us whatcha got, Em?” Leo teased.

  “It’s just part of the curriculum in the classroom,” Emmadine explained. “Interacting with the kids shows that you’re a good teacher.”

  “Yeah, right,” Leo tossed back. “Give Emmie a tune and she thinks she’s Beyoncé strutting her stuff.”

  “Strutting her stuff,” Sierra echoed, still bouncing up and down. “Emmie dances good.”

  Zoe crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. “I don’t see how you guys can sit here and laugh and joke while a killer is running around out there snatching kids off the street.”

  “It’s called recharging your batteries. It’s impossible to maintain your edge if you let the case get to you.” Skye was about to go into more detail when Quade walked up to the table, pulled out a chair from one of the other stations, and plopped down to join them.

  “How’d the door knocking go?”

  “Hit and miss,” Skye answered. “Pretty much what we expected. But then a less than enthusiastic welcome is always baffling, especially when a child is at risk. We met a few of your neighbors who didn’t want to get involved.”

  “I warned you that would happen.”

  Before the exchange got heated, Josh motioned for the waitress. “We’ve only just put in our orders a few minutes ago. It’s not too late to add something.”

  “Sure. I could eat.”

  The waitress came over and took Quade’s order. Without bringing up the case there was an awkward silence that fell over the table.

  Skye fidgeted in her seat because there was so much she wanted to ask the cop. But a dead teenage girl barely out of the morgue didn’t make for terrific dinner conversation. Even she understood that some things shouldn’t be discussed around a toddler. So she sat there and tried to come up with anything to break the uneasy feeling that hung over the group.

  Josh did it for her. He began to make small talk about the activities in the area, the tourists who came for the summer, and the popular places where people like to hang out, until finally Quade seemed to relax and let his guard down.

  Quade began to share everything good about the town and the things to see and do while they were here.

  “It’s not like I came to Idaho to backpack,” Zoe snapped out. “We did come all this way to try and find a killer. But all you guys do is talk, talk, talk.”

  “Watch it kid,” Leo cautioned. “You’re immaturity is showing. You wanted to be a part of this gig; this is how we do things. We work hard, we put in the hours. But like Skye said, you gotta recharge and get your head on straight, otherwise you miss stuff.”

  The food came and everyone dug in. Funny how chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes could calm the nerves and take away the tension. There was a reason bonding over food had been a key ritual for centuries, bringing opposing sides together to eat. Wine and beer didn’t hurt to loosen tongues and bring the conversation around to a more mellow atmosphere.

  Even Zoe seemed to realize that she’d put her foot in her mouth and began to find her happy place instead of sulking. She laughed at Emmadine’s jokes, coaxed Sierra to finish her dinner, and by the end of the meal ordered a dessert to split with Skye.

  Tensions could run high during an investigation. Arguments and harsh words often went hand in hand. By the time the check arrived they were all laughing and getting along.

  ****

  Carrying a sleeping Sierra, Josh emerged from the restaurant to a rain-soaked parking lot. While he settled his daughter into her car seat, the others piled into Harry’s SUV for the ride back to the lodge.

  That left Skye standing by the minivan next to Quade. She decided it was time to get a few necessary details out of him. “Did you ever do a forensic search on each victims’ computers?”

  “Well, those that had one, sure. But not all of them had access t
o a laptop. Nina Blackbird I know didn’t. Her parents couldn’t afford one. But they were working on it. Same with Kamena McToyler. Holly Whitmore, as I recall, used the one at the library a lot. And Sara would’ve rather spent her time outside than sitting in front of a monitor. That’s just the way she was. I couldn’t find that any of them had much of an online presence at all. If they did have a social media account, it’s gone dormant. Every few months I check to be sure. As best as I can tell, these girls didn’t have any hidden agendas. They didn’t leave the house to meet a boyfriend or a school chum or have a secret life. I mean what kind of twelve-year-old is savvy enough to hide a relationship for that long?”

  Skye could’ve quoted him urban statistics that said otherwise. Any teen could hoard a few secrets if deemed necessary. But right now, she had other more pressing matters to flesh out. “And you’re comfortable saying that about Laurel Smith?”

  Quade’s eyes drilled into Skye’s. “What do you know?”

  Skye lifted a shoulder. “Just asking. Is it possible she might’ve told someone, an adult, that she intended to leave the house that day to buy a present for Luna, specifically the Holiday Barbie doll at Pasqual’s, the only store in town that sold one?”

  “I suppose. Why are you bringing that up? Did someone offer that information during canvassing?”

  Again, Skye lifted a shoulder, keeping her demeanor as much in check as she could. “Because it’s odd that on that day, four days before Christmas, our predator was out and about. He didn’t just cross paths with Laurel. I think he knew where she’d be, the route she’d take, and the reason she was out walking. I even think he knew the approximate timeframe when she’d leave the house.”

  “He was waiting for her?”

  Skye gave Quade a brief nod and wrapped her jacket tighter around her body. The wind had picked up. It whistled around the building providing an eerie sound effect to the conversation.

  “In a manner of speaking. I believe he’d already had a prior conversation with her about what her plans were for that Saturday afternoon. He might’ve even given her tips on buying it or how to wrap it. Laurel left the house with forty dollars in her pocket. The doll sold for thirty-five. I checked with the store. The clerk doesn’t remember Laurel coming through the line at the check stand. But the store was so busy she doesn’t remember much of anything from that afternoon. Did you ask for the store’s CCTV for that timeframe to make sure Laurel didn’t come through there?”

  Quade looked bewildered. “I’m sure the FBI took care of that part. But if she did make it to the store and buy the doll, what happened to the doll?”

  Skye ignored reference to the doll. “If the FBI went through the CCTV then there should’ve been a mention in the case file about it. I couldn’t find anything written down anywhere about anyone going through CCTV from Pasqual’s.”

  “Damn.” Quade tried to regain some composure, but when he spoke his voice was still shaky. “Did her mother have any ideas about where Laurel might’ve talked to this guy beforehand? What did Laurel do Friday night? Where was she on Saturday morning?”

  “All those things should already be in the file, Quade. They aren’t. But I know that Barb Smith had to work that weekend. She left the house early and was on the Reservation until late afternoon. The older brother, Levi, spent all day working at a Christmas tree lot. Those two wouldn’t be the ones to remember or to ask. But Lara and Luna…those girls might remember if Laurel left the house Saturday morning, however briefly, or if she had a phone conversation with anyone. The Smith house isn’t that large. Whatever happens between those four kids, one of them would know. I’m hoping to catch both girls at home tomorrow afternoon after I track down Lucy Silver’s mother.”

  Quade stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at Skye. “I’ll say one thing, you guys are thorough.”

  “Which makes us wonder why you never mentioned CCTV from any of the abductions. The stuff Felix sent us is devoid of those kinds of details. And why didn’t you mention that Rosa Andreas is Gabby Knight’s first cousin?”

  “Didn’t I include that?”

  Skye could see the deceit in the man’s eyes, and it pissed her off. Now wasn’t the time to blow up, so she kept her cool. “Nope. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “We’ve gotten around people like you before to get the job done. We’ll do it again if we need to. We were so hoping you’d come down off your high horse and do the right thing. But I see now, that’s not gonna happen.”

  “It wasn’t on purpose.”

  “So, you just forgot about Rosa’s connection to Gabby, another victim? That’s your story? It’s not gonna cut it, Quade. And if that CCTV wasn’t checked, I see why you’ve got a guilty conscience.”

  “Okay, I didn’t exactly forget. Let’s just say I don’t warm up to people butting into my case on the first go-around. I’m getting there. Be patient.”

  “I might have all the patience of a saint,” Skye started. “But there are twelve families out there,” she paused. “Make that thirteen, who are…flat out tired of not knowing anything. That’s on you, Quade Grayhawk. And to tell you the truth, I’m fed up with defending your lack of results.”

  With that, Skye spun around to climb into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. She winced when she realized the loud noise had probably made Sierra stir from her sleep. But when she turned to check, all she saw was Josh going at it with Quade at the side of the van.

  “This might be your backyard but keep in mind it doesn’t mean folks here don’t want help or answers, even if it comes from outsiders. They’re so desperate for answers they don’t care where the information comes from. Right now, it doesn’t matter if it comes from a little green man from Mars. I feel for ya, Quade, I really do. But my patience only stretches so far. From here on out, you need to think twice about holding back information. If you know something, now’s the time to offer it up. And try to find out what happened to the CCTV in each case where it was relevant. Did you ever wonder why it’s gone? Why the reports don’t mention an evidence number?”

  Josh turned to go and stopped. “And by the way, you might want to finally share the details about how Rosa was taken. Because we’ve heard a variety of stories and theories that don’t add up. You have a good evening, okay?”

  When Quade said nothing, Josh slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He backed out without another glance at Quade, leaving the cop standing by himself in the dark parking lot, his hair whipping in the wind.

  Ten

  The next morning, Skye brought Sierra along for the interview with Lucy Silver’s mom. After staying up the night before until almost midnight searching databases, she’d finally managed to track down Simone Silver using utility bills for inquiries.

  After separating from her husband, Simone Silver had relocated north to Sandpoint, a community of about ten thousand people in the state’s panhandle. Simone had gotten a job at a local food processing plant where she worked second shift as a mixer on the line.

  Skye had called ahead, and Simone had agreed to talk, but the woman clearly wasn’t happy about dredging up the subject matter.

  “When we get there, I want you to be on your best behavior,” Skye cautioned her daughter. “Understand? That means no running around, no interrupting, no unnecessary chatter. Be good for Mama, okay?”

  “’Kay.”

  Feeling geared up for what would likely be a painful interview, Skye knocked on Simone’s door, a ground-level apartment unit in a tidy complex with a playground set aside for the resident kids. Simone was already dressed for work in blue jeans and a pale blue blouse. Her demeanor seemed to change as soon as she spotted Sierra.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Skye began. “But I brought along my daughter. We’re trying out a new sitter situation and I felt like I needed to spend some quality time with my kid today. Coming up here to see you gave us the opportunity for some alone time in the car.”

  The woman in
her mid-forties, forced a smile. “Not a problem. I remember those days myself. I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but I hope this isn’t some type of ruse. I mean, over the phone you promised me that you weren’t a reporter come to ask me stupid questions about how I feel or something like that.”

  “No, I’m not here for a story. I’m not a reporter. I run the Artemis Foundation back in Seattle. We exist solely to find out what happened to missing people, like Lucy. All I want is for you to tell me what happened the day your daughter disappeared. I need to hear it from you.”

  “So, this is legit, you really are re-visiting what happened to Lucy?”

  “I am.”

  Simone held the door open and led the way to a small loveseat, where she got comfortable enough to light up a cigarette. “Take a seat.”

  Skye took the only other available place to sit, a well-worn recliner, and shifted Sierra onto her lap. “I know this will be difficult to talk about.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about it.”

  “Oh, but I do.” Skye kept her story brief but detailed what had happened to her when she was twelve. “If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to check every single thing I’ve just told you online.”

  “I’m sorry,” Simone said quietly. “Life is a shithole sometimes. About my attitude on the phone…it’s just …up to now…no one did much about Lucy being gone. It’s been a frustrating ordeal. We’d get our hopes up every time someone knocked on the door. Maybe, we’d think this was the news we’d waited for. Maybe they’d found her. Maybe her coming back to us would straighten everything out that was wrong. In the end, it often turned out to be reporters, people looking for a story. And the crank calls we got at night. My word, they were awful, meanspirited. People can be just plain horrible during the worst time of your life. I complained to the police, but they never seemed to be able to put a stop to the harassing calls. I’d have to say the cops were downright useless when we asked them for anything. So, one day, we just stopped contacting them altogether.”