Bone Dus

by Bette Golden Lamb

  Once he was in the vehicle, he took several deep breaths, which did nothing for his jitters. He headed for the highway, taking off into a few side streets to see if anyone was following him.

  There was no one.

  When he was out of the city, he headed for his foster dad’s cabin in the woods—it was about an hour away.

  It was a big surprise when Todd left it to him in his will. The idiot told his foster sister what he was going to do. It must have really messed her up even more than she already was, because it wasn’t long after that that she killed him.

  The satisfaction she got from that perfectly placed arrow in his eye would have to last for the rest of her life—in jail. Her hatred had done in both her and Todd.

  Russell did a lot of thinking as he drove. He should have left that bitch Jenni alone; first when he tried to rape her years ago and now when he killed her.

  It had put him right where he didn’t need to be—in the spotlight. Until then, he’d mostly been smart. Being very careful with the draining had kept him in the shadows.

  Jenni had ruined everything, and so had Gina.

  Someday his luck would run out. If he wasn’t careful, his hunger for blood and revenge was going to do the same to him that it did to his foster sister.

  He stopped in the little village about ten miles from the cabin and bought food supplies. When he reached the place, there was still plenty of daylight.

  He pulled his backpack from the car, along with the bow and arrow he kept in the trunk and lugged them to the cabin door and pushed inside. He never locked up the place. What for? You could blow the whole thing down with half a breath.

  In a few minutes, the smell of the woods and the old fireplace, packed with kindling, calmed him, as it did when his foster dad used to bring him here to hunt and drain blood together.

  Russell picked up his bow and arrow and walked quietly into the woods. He was keyed up, looking for a kill.

  As he walked, his ears picked up every animal sound, but he finally settled into one of his favorite spots to wait. If he was patient, everything would come to him.

  He began to sweat under his jeans and his flannel shirt was plastered to his back.

  He turned his head slowly, sensing something live was nearby.

  A large fourteen-point buck was about 20 feet away.

  Russell barely shifted, readied his arrow without making a sound. He eyed the buck, pulled back on the bowstring, aimed for the neck, took a breath, and let loose.

  At first, the only sound was the buck falling. Then there was the thrashing and gasps.

  Russell ran as fast as he could. He had to get there while the animal’s heart was still beating.

  Sliding to his knees, he spread his body on top of the deer. Its struggles to breathe past a torn throat blasted the quiet around them.

  Russell pulled out his knife, cleaned the mud away from the deer’s neck, and made a surgical cut into the carotid. It was like a fountain spraying blood into the air.

  He leaned over and watched the blood drain.

  Chapter 49

  Harry spent the morning driving the Porsche, tearing up the roads around Tucson. His insides were hot, dry, and scorched like the desert all around him.

  He didn’t care if he got tagged for speeding; some part of him even hoped the cops would nail him. He deserved it.

  This separation from Gina, with little prospect of getting back together had left his nerves exposed. And he’d passed that on to Abby.

  Yeah, he deserved to be punished.

  Without a word, Abby had changed her work hours to the graveyard shift. When he left work after 11:30 P.M., she would already be on the unit. He’d tried to talk to her when he spotted her around the apartment complex, tried to apologize. But she looked right through him.

  And he deserved that.

  He’d used her as a surrogate without telling her there were strings, strings that were unraveling but not yet broken.

  He’d allowed her to take him partway down a road he never wanted to be on. He’d given her false hope that sometime in the near future they would have an intimate relationship.

  If he’d been thinking about someone other than himself, he would have realized that relationship was doomed from the start. What had happened was the only possible ending for Abby and him.

  Harry’s attention span was drifting when he signed in and took report; he was only half listening to the team leader.

  The ICU, after all the excitement surrounding the gunshot-wounded men, had quieted down dramatically. Two of the men were still critical, but it looked like they were going to make it after extensive surgery. The other beds were taken up by a pair of kids who had OD’d at a teenage party. Only four patients was about as good as it gets.

  “Lordy, what a day,” the dayshift team leader said. “The kids are doing okay. Probably out of here on your time. But maybe someone ought to do something extreme to the parents.”

  “It’s hard when you almost lose your kids to dope,” he said.

  “You’re a pushover, Harry,” she said. “The kids are okay but I’ll be a lot happier when I come to work tomorrow and the bunch of them are outta here.”

  I’m out of here, too, and if I never see this place again, it will be too soon.

  “You know the guy who bled out ... that Dommi Machado?”

  Harry nodded.

  I’ll hang in for a couple of days and then I’m gone. Maybe I’ll even start sleeping again.

  “You know my boyfriend’s a cop, don’t you?”

  “Huh uh.”

  “Well, Jorge told me that ’cause it involved firearms, they ran prints on all those guys to see if any of them were in the system.”

  “In the system?” She finally had his attention.

  “Harry, you’re not listening to me, you jerk.”

  “I am. Tell me.”

  “It seems the one guy, Machado, had broken parole in New York. He was pretending to be a Mexican. You can bet Jorge was pretty pissed off about that.”

  Harry was getting one of those moments that Gina got all the time. He could swear his eye was going to twitch.

  “Go on!”

  “So, I finally do have your attention,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  Now she took her time. Played it up for all it was worth.

  “Anyway, they’ve been looking for this guy for over a year.”

  She laughed. “Just another loser, the kind Arizona attracts like flies to dog shit. Too bad he had to get into an old-time shootout. My boyfriend said they might not have ever picked up on the dude, if he’d only kept a low profile, if he hadn’t been so stupid.”

  “Where is he?”

  “How do I know? Probably in the morgue.”

  “A New York parole buster?”

  “That’s what I said, Harry.”

  “Do they know his real name?”

  “How would I know?” the team leader said.

  “How about doing an old friend a favor?” Harry said, sidling up to her. “Maybe your boyfriend can get us the real name of the dead guy.”

  “Maybe he could, if I asked him.” She picked up her purse and hung the strap on her shoulder. “But you’re not an old friend, buddy,” she said, smiling at him. “But you are a good guy, so-o-o-o...”

  She pulled her cell out of a side pocket of her scrubs and punched in a number. “I’ll ask him anyway.”

  Chapter 50

  Gina stepped up to her Fiat, which she’d retrieved from the police impound. She’d heard that blood was the hardest evidence to get rid of, but if any of it was still there, she couldn’t see it.

  It just looked like her little old lady sitting there patiently, waiting for her to hop in.

  Gina wasn’t hopping anywhere. She could barely find the energy to walk. All the excuses she’d given herself about her headache were bogus. She was used to ignoring aches and pains when she had to go to work. The past week was no exception.

  She star
ed at the car. Her Fiat was the last thing Jenni had seen, other than the killer.

  Maybe Russell wasn’t the killer.

  Maybe I’m wrong.

  Gina’s mind kept wandering, she couldn’t focus on anything except that she knew for sure she had the damn flu. She was going home to bed and collapse.

  She unlocked the car door, ducked under the canvas top, and slid into the driver’s seat. Every muscle and joint in her body was screaming for relief.

  The inside of the car still had a strange odor, probably from the detergents they’d used to clean it, but otherwise everything was the same.

  Her head was so heavy, she laid it down on the steering wheel, tried to pull herself together so she could go home. She reached into her purse and found an aspirin bottle and dry swallowed two of them. Her throat was so raw, she choked before she could get the pills down.

  What an awful day with Aaron Dobbs almost dying. After they pumped him up with fluids, Brad decided Dobbs could probably pull through without a blood transfusion.

  Something Harry often said flipped through her head:

  “Blood is dangerous. Think twice before infusing.”

  Gina smiled. She remembered listening to Harry, his soothing voice telling about his ICU experiences.

  Chills swept up and down her body. He’d always taken such good care of her.

  But she was alone now.

  It’s not that far. You can drive home and crawl into bed. You can do that. One step at a time. First thing, put the key into the ignition.

  She turned the key.

  Click.

  And what did she expect after virtually sitting around for days? So much for step number one.

  She picked up her cell and punched in Helen’s number and was immediately put into voice mail. Helen was probably driving—she would never answer the phone at the wheel.

  Gina punched the direct dial for a local cab company.

  “Lady, I don’t like our drivers picking up passengers in an underground garage,” the dispatcher said in a disgruntled voice. “Not only that, it’s a damn madhouse around the hospital.”

  “Please! You won’t have trouble finding me. I’m in a red Fiat in the employee parking lot, in the very last section. You’ll spot me right away.”

  The line went silent.

  “Listen, I always call your company when I need a cab. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Yeah, well.” There was a really long pause. “Okay.”

  “I’m really beat. I’ll wait in the car.”

  She described the car again and gave him the license plate number. He promised to send someone right away.

  She put her head on the steering wheel again and must have gone out because the next thing she heard was someone tapping on the window. Her head jerked up.

  “Hey, lady. Did you call for a cab?”

  She looked into the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “Oh, yes. Thanks so much for coming for me.”

  She grabbed her purse. It felt like she’d planted a block of cement inside. Up and out, she locked the Fiat, and walked to the back of the taxi.

  * * *

  Helen had just fed Vinnie, who was sitting up in the living room and smiling at her when she came in.

  “Well, aren’t you the chipper one.” Helen walked over and kissed his cheek.

  “Now watch it! You’ll end up as sick as I was.”

  “You are a silly lad. Never thought about that when we were in bed together, did you?”

  “I have my priorities.” He laughed. “Sick or not, my woman sleeps in my bed.”

  She sat down on the couch next to him, looked into his soft brown eyes. “Am I your woman, Vinnie? Are you my man?”

  “Why do women always need to hear the words,” he said, looking at her. He lowered his voice and grumbled, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Tell me, Vinnie.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and cuddled into him. “Tell me.”

  He bent over and kissed her neck. “Helen Trent, I’ll love you forever ... I’m the luckiest man on earth that you would even consider being with such a broken-down schlub.”

  * * *

  Mulzini had no solid leads on who murdered Jenni Webb.

  He questioned the men she’d hung out with ... the ones he could find. They all said she was a fun kind of girl who changed partners frequently.

  Mulzini took it all in, not sure what to believe and what not to follow up on.

  It wasn’t until he cornered Brad Rizzo in the ER that he got a real handle on the dead nurse.

  “Jenni was running away from her roots,” the doctor said. “That’s why she came to San Francisco in the first place.”

  “So how did you happen to date her, Doc?”

  “I’d just gotten out of a long-term relationship and I saw Jenni all the time in the hospital. We sort of fell into going out after work. It wasn’t anything serious. We liked each other.”

  “I’ve talked to some of the men she dated. They seem to think she was a party girl.”

  “Seems to be a label many men use when they can’t make a gal do what they want.” The doctor seemed sad talking about the dead woman. “Jenni was just trying to find out who she really was. She was questioning what she wanted out of life.”

  Mulzini felt sad for her, too. “Had she finally decided?”

  “It makes me happy to think she did. She‘d stopped dating altogether by the time she moved in with Gina. Wanted more time to think. I do know she was spooked by one of the phlebotomists at Ridgewood—Russell Thorpe. They seemed to really hate each other. I saw them interact a few times in her unit.”

  “What do you think was going on?”

  “I don’t know, Inspector,” the doctor said. “Why does anyone hate another person? The smallest slight can cause a lifetime feud.”

  Brad looked thoughtful. His gaze held Mulzini’s. “I’ve been dealing with people for a long time. To tell the truth, I don’t really understand them any better today than when I first went into medicine.”

  Mulzini liked talking to the man. Time had made him more humble instead of arrogant like so many in his profession.

  * * *

  Digging into some of Russell’s connections, Mulzini found one high school buddy who still lived in the area and seemed to keep in touch.

  He went out to Carlin’s Mortuary, where Eddy Tyson worked. Mulzini was a little spooked having to go to a funeral home to question a suspect. But that was the job. He went.

  They talked in one of the body reception areas with a fancy coffin in the room.

  Mulzini thought it was a creepy place to question the guy, but Eddy seemed even more uncomfortable.

  “So you went to school with Russell?”

  “What’s this about, sir?”

  “I’m only questioning everyone who knew our victim.”

  “You told me her name before. I didn’t know her.” The guy kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  “But you know Russell Thorpe.”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  Mulzini held a palm out. “Hey, nothing to worry about. Just checking everything and everyone out.”

  “Okay.”

  “What can you tell me about Russell?” Mulzini saw the guy start to relax.

  “We used to hang out in high school. Sometimes I’d go to his foster dad’s cabin with him.”

  “Uh-huh. That must have been fun. What did you guys do out there.” Mulzini watched Eddy shift from foot to foot again.

  “Oh, we mostly did some hunting. You know ... hung out.”

  Mulzini nodded like it was something he did every day. “Is it far from here?”

  “Nah, it’s about an hour north of San Francisco.”

  Chapter 51

  It was late. Mulzini thought he should just call it a day. He wasn’t on call anymore and going home to a nice dinner with Marcia, maybe a tall beer with a little television, might be a good way to end the day.

  He got into his car
, checked the GPS for the address Eddy had given him, and saw how warped he really was.

  He convinced himself that it was a pretty straight shot to that cabin of Russell’s, and it shouldn’t take too long to make the roundtrip.

  Also, it was either go now or let thinking about it ruin his evening and probably keep him from getting any sleep.

  By the time he’d finished with Eddy Tyson, he had a pretty good handle on Russell’s background—no known father and an alcoholic mom who died when he was fourteen. He’d ended up in a foster home.

  At least he wasn’t shoved back into the system—his placement couldn’t have been all that bad.

  Russell had finished high school and had taken some college before becoming a phlebotomist, Tyson had told him.

  Never really been in trouble before. Or had he just been under the radar?

  It was after eight when he found the run-down cabin that was more of a shed. A deserted shed?

  He left his headlights on, grabbed his Maglite, and headed for the cabin door, which was partially open. He reached for his gun and walked inside.

  The first thing he noticed were glowing embers in the dilapidated stone fireplace. Then the rank smell of sweat washed over him, along with something else.

  Blood!

  He shone his flashlight on a work table near a utility sink. A few steps brought him to a wooden board that was covered with bread crumbs, discarded food wrappers, and a tin cup half filled with ... blood.

  Jesus!

  From whom? From where?

  A shiver ran down his spine.

  And all of it was fresh. If it was Russell, Mulzini must have just missed him.

  There was nothing else inside worth looking at.

  He went outside, started to circle to the rear of the shed when the light picked up wet footprints coming from the woods.

  Better call the locals for some backup.

  He got into his car, tapped into his computer, searched for a wifi connection.

  Shit ... nothing to hook into.