Home was an old country farmhouse on Bainbridge Island, thirty minutes west of Seattle across Puget Sound. The house had been built in 1909 amid green rolling hills complete with pretty gabled windows and a wraparound porch to die for. The private stretch of beach and the spectacular view across the water were each a bonus.
The renovated four bedrooms and three bathrooms were no doubt a lot of space for two people. But Kiya and Atka helped fill part of the void with doggy noises and doggy merriment, not to mention the doggy trouble they got into on a daily basis. The canines often used the cherry orchard out back and its rows and rows of trees to dig and explore. That tendency to dig had forced her to fence off the part of the backyard she’d dedicated for planting and growing a vegetable garden.
After months of settling in, Skye had yet to really flex her homemaker muscles. Sure, she took her turn throwing together breakfast, same with cooking evening meals. She often switched off chores with Josh to maintain that balance necessary to achieving happy and successful coupledom. But when it came to anything beyond that, she had trouble keeping the hydrangeas, sweet fern, and pepperbush that grew in abundance around the house from dying due to neglect.
There hadn’t been a whole lot of time to do any of the things she’d planned to do. Which meant no major garden yet. She’d wait for spring for that. Hopefully she’d be able to carve out some time to plant at least a few rows of lettuce. Too many missing kids to look for, too many bad guys to hunt down, to really spend valuable time digging in the dirt. Because of her schedule, she rarely took a day off even on weekends.
As she studied the view from the back door she realized that needed to change. Looking out over jutting coastline and rocky outcrops, she knew the past twenty-four-hour ordeal had taken its toll—she was almost too tired to think, even too tired to jump in the shower.
And she missed Josh.
The house seemed almost too quiet without him. He should be here waiting for her. Because each time she came back home to this personal sanctuary—the pastoral countryside, its rolling slopes and sand dunes, the little shallow pond, and the cathedral of trees at the rear—it never failed to make her feel as though she’d been given a special gift.
Josh had been the one to point out the area’s unique mix of Native American and European history that had given her such a sense of belonging here, that feeling she’d missed since losing her parents. It was more than that, of course. She’d fallen in love with a man who hadn’t tried to change her, who had accepted her and all the quirks she brought with her.
As she climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, Kiya and Atka bounding up ahead of her, she looked forward to what she hoped was at least five hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Once she got undressed she crawled beneath the covers, bone weary. Settling in between the sheets, Skye Cree knew she was one of the lucky ones. Every single day she took stock of what she had. Her father, Travis Nakota, said it was because her ordeal at such a young age caused her to appreciate all the little things in life a lot more.
She had no doubt that was true.
Before drifting off completely she thought of Josh and how great it would be when he got back home. She wasn’t sure when it had happened but she’d forgotten how to sleep alone. All she knew now was she didn’t like it very much.
Oh, she knew she wasn’t completely alone, not with Kiya and Atka snuggling up beside her in bed. Instinct had her running a hand over Josh’s side of the bed. But even with missing that lump of security she’d grown so accustomed to, the lure of sleep had her closing her eyes. Her last thought was of Josh, right before she heard flutes in the distance starting low and then rising. But exhaustion finally took over and blacked out any other thoughts or sounds.
While Skye slept, Kiya grew uneasy. The wolf raised her head before unfurling to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. Kiya’s prowling roused Atka. The malamute got up to investigate and roam the room with the wolf.
Vigilant, both animals stood at the window united in one, like-minded goal —to protect their master.
Across the country, it was almost eleven o’clock inside the main convention center in midtown Manhattan. Ander All Games held center court with its debut of the brand-new game, Princess Kilda, featuring a red-headed warrior goddess constantly put in perilous situations but able to fight her way out of whatever danger came her way.
A throng of gamers had squeezed around the display to get a better look at the battle raging between Josh and Todd Graham. The images on the eighty-inch, flat-screen TV illustrated all Princess Kilda’s clever features—plenty of chases that required good reflexes, fight scenes that took teamwork between online partners, bad guys to fight to the death, and brilliant 3D graphics that incorporated magic lasers.
The feedback so far had been positive. Already the buzz on the Internet had exceeded their expectations along with record sales.
But during the demo Josh had trouble concentrating. His mind was back in Seattle. Something was off. He kept seeing someone lurking around the house. Without a vivid description of an assailant, the recurring images left him distracted and frustrated. Not being able to put a finger exactly on the problem troubled him. But when your wife was a crime-fighting warrior in real life, his mind had a tendency to think the worst. Over the past couple years he’d gotten used to worrying about her safety. But this nagging feeling he had in his gut was different. It made him recognize that he needed to get back home.
When he ended up getting Kilda trapped and surrounded by her enemies, he realized someone else needed to step in and fill his shoes. At the break in action, Josh handed off the controller to Tate Brock, the man he still thought of as a brother-in-law.
Josh slapped Tate on the back and met the younger man’s eyes. “I’m done here. But do me a favor. Try not to choke.”
“Are you kidding? I love this game. So do all my friends. I can’t believe it’s based on Skye.”
Josh looked out on the sea of enthusiastic faces in the crowd, gamers who were enjoying the show. “Yeah, well, I wish she’d been as thrilled about it as everyone else.”
“Give her time. When the sales go through the roof, she’ll enjoy knowing how she was the inspiration for it all.”
Josh shook his head. “If only.” With that, he made his way out of the convention hall just as Todd Graham caught up with him.
Josh could tell his second in command was annoyed with him for the abrupt departure. Todd had Asperger’s and rarely made public appearances anywhere. The two had known each other since middle school, which meant Josh knew how difficult it had been getting Todd to come down to the exhibit hall in the first place, let alone join in the action. Usually Todd avoided people, all people. Gaming conventions had been off limits in the past. That’s one of the reasons Josh immediately began to apologize. “Look, I’m sorry but I have to head back home.”
“Home? Now? We just kicked things off. What gives? You’ve been acting weird ever since you got here. And acting weirder than me, makes me…worry.”
“Who took your place back at the demo table? Somebody has to keep their mind on the prize while I’m gone.”
“Leo. He’s the best one to give Tate a run for his money. Look, is it Skye you’re still worried about?”
“You know it is. She’s in trouble. I can feel it. Whether she admits it or not, she’s in danger. I can’t sit here in New York…”
“Then catch the next flight back to Seattle. With your mind someplace else, you’re no good to us like this anyway. If it’s real, the danger, that is, let us know. You’ll need backup.”
Josh slapped Todd on the back. “Thanks. I hoped you’d understand.”
“Since I’m not married anymore, I don’t really…understand. But if Skye’s in over her head you need to be there.”
“Exactly. I’ll see all of you when you guys get back to Seattle.”
Skye woke that afternoon to a misty drizzle. Her stomach rumbled and made her realize she wasn’t just hung
ry, but ravenous. And her brain craved coffee.
Tossing back the covers, she threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater and looked around the room for Kiya and Atka. Both canines seemed antsy. They paced back and forth in front of the bank of windows looking out into the vast backyard.
“What do you guys see out there? Come on, let’s go downstairs and rustle up some grub. I’ll let you out to pee.”
But as soon as she reached the kitchen, Atka and Kiya went on alert. Both went wild growling and barking, setting off a din of fierce noise, all directed at the backyard.
On instinct, Skye followed their line of vision to the glass door and beyond. That’s when she spotted the vase.
Placed prominently on the outdoor teak table, it was hard to miss. She knew immediately that the buds were an exact match to the flower Kiya had found earlier in the field at the mall.
Puzzled, Skye moved to the glass, but not before she went to the counter and pulled out the biggest knife from the butcher block. Keeping the weapon clutched in her hand, she scanned the lawn all the way out to the ornamental pond. Even though she didn’t see any movement, she wasn’t comfortable enough to open the back door. Instead she stood there staring at the arrangement—a dozen or so deep purple dahlias standing straight and tall in a crystal clear container. Raindrops had gathered on the tips of the petals and told Skye the vase had been there for several hours.
Even though the canines were itching to get outside, Skye wasn’t eager to let them. Not yet.
Damn it, this was her home. How dare someone try to scare her on her own property and think, by doing this, they’d bring danger to her doorstep.
It was then she decided to rein in her suspicions, get a grip on her fear. What if it was simply a coincidence and Josh had sent them? At the moment, she wished like hell she believed in coincidences. Maybe the florist in town had dropped them off. What if the flowers had been delivered while she napped? Maybe when no one answered the door they’d brought them around back to the patio. There, a simple explanation.
Maybe.
She took out her cell phone and hit Josh’s contact info. But his cell rang once and went straight to voicemail. Probably on the floor of the convention center right this minute, she decided as she ended the call.
To hell with it.
With the knife still in her hand, she opened the door and watched as Kiya darted straight to the table to sniff around its base, Atka doing her best to do the same. Skye let them check things out before she stepped onto the concrete. It didn’t take long before the animals took off to follow the scent toward the woods. The fact that Kiya and Atka had gone in that direction instead of circling around the house to the front door caused her florist theory to evaporate.
Skimming the yard, Skye’s eyes darted back and forth. She quickly located the little card sticking up out of the bouquet. Snatching it up, she slipped it out of its miniature envelope, read the message. Hope these flowers grown from my own garden brighten your dreary day.
Okay, so no threat exactly, more like an implied ‘shove it in your face’ act. So they weren’t from Josh, or from any florist in town, but from the same sick bastard who’d cut up three young women.
She called to Kiya and Atka and dashed back into the kitchen, leaving the floral arrangement where it sat and flipping the lock on the door behind her.
She went to the wall phone to place a call to Harry then decided to text him instead.
Got flowers from our killer.
She had to wait ten minutes for a response.
How the hell did he know where you lived? Don’t touch them or go near them until I get there.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that ship had already sailed so she simply texted the word “okay” and left it at that. Better to tell him in person she’d already handled the card.
If her head ached for a caffeine fix before, it morphed into migraine status now. Trying her best to keep her emotions intact, she strolled to the coffee machine, got busy with the ordinary task of brewing a cup.
While she waited for the machine to do its work, she fed the animals, then cracked eggs for an omelet. She dragged out veggies—scallions and spinach—and used the cutting board and the sharp knife to dice and slice. She whipped up the mixture before dumping it into a skillet. Letting it simmer until it was ready to fold over, she slid the eggs onto a plate.
While she devoured her way through the entire dish, she booted up her laptop to research “black” flowers. She discovered they weren’t black at all, but rather vibrant purple in color and only appeared black depending on the variety of flower. When gardeners got the urge to experiment with the color black, they did it with plenty of dogged determination. Sometimes it took years to roll out a black rose, a lily, a tulip, or a hollyhock. During her search she found a picture of an orchid so dark in color it looked like a bat with whiskers. It seemed throughout the gardening world black flowers were considered “the death flower.”
Skye would have to agree. Coupled with the fact the killer sent a dahlia, a black one at that, it meant the guy had gotten his macabre missive across in spades.
At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, Kiya and Atka raced toward the living room. She bounded up out of the chair to follow them into the front room. Thinking she’d be there to greet Harry, she was shocked to see Josh’s car rolling up the driveway. She heard the garage door open and went on alert. How had the killer managed to commandeer Josh’s Fusion out of airport parking?
Whoa. She took a deep, calming breath, knowing full well she needed to get a better handle on things, namely her imagination. It was working double time. She scrubbed a hand over her face. Of course it had to be Josh sitting behind the wheel and driving his own vehicle. As the car made its way into the garage, she sent a text to Josh’s phone. Where are you exactly?
A few seconds later, the door to the laundry room opened and she heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, honey, I’m home.”
The canines went wild. Skye sprinted through the kitchen and saw Josh’s grin first, then his arms full of luggage and shopping bags. Without waiting for him to free up his hands, she jumped into his body, causing him to lose his hold on the stuff he carried. The force knocked him back a step. She wrapped him up and began to plant kisses on his face.
Kiya and Atka were almost as exuberant with their wet snouts and tongues.
“Are you trying to scare me? Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming home early?” Skye ranted in between kisses.
“I should definitely go out of town more often. I wanted to surprise you. Looks like I did. Plus, I knew what you’d say. You’d tell me not to bother. But it looks like you’re happier to see me than I thought you’d be.”
Looking into his calm, silver-gray eyes she took hold of his chin. “Of course I’m happy to see you. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m so glad you’re home. What’s all this stuff?”
“I picked up a few souvenirs.” He dug in one of the sacks and brought out a twelve-inch replica of the Statue of Liberty made out of pewter.
The cheap knockoff made her laugh. “I’d say the street vendor outside the Marriott saw you coming.”
“That’s what Leo said.”
She held up the statue, tested the weight. “At least it isn’t plastic. We’ll give it a treasured spot on the mantle.”
The doorbell rang. “That’ll be Harry, I hope,” she said as she darted off to answer it. “Come on, you’ll want to hear this.”
“What’s Harry doing here? This is about that crime scene, isn’t it?” Josh shouted to Skye’s back. To get his answer, he followed her into the other room.
As soon as Harry walked through the door Atka pounced. Surprised to see Josh at home, Harry tried to ward off the energetic puppy while at the same time holding out his hand in greeting to Josh.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in New York?”
“Came home to surprise my wife. What are you doing here?” Josh asked, taking hold of Atka�
��s collar and pulling the dog away from the detective.
“How’d you get the news so fast that we have another serial killer on the loose? What do you think about the guy sending Skye flowers while she took a nap?”
Josh sent his wife a hard look. “You might’ve mentioned the serial killer this morning when we talked.”
“Oh, come on, you had a hunch there was something going on that’s why you came back early.” She lifted a shoulder and took his hand in hers. “There’s no need to be mad at me. I didn’t level with you because—”
“She didn’t want you to worry,” Harry finished.
“I admit the flowers did freak me out a little.”
Josh angled his head to plant a kiss on Skye’s forehead. “We’ll discuss your willingness to level with me later. Where are they, the flowers?”
“Here’s the note that came with them,” Skye acknowledged, handing it to Josh. That’s when it occurred to her. “How come Atka didn’t have a fit when the guy brought these into the backyard? That dog normally kicks up a fuss when she spots the mailman. Look how she attacked Harry. Why didn’t she bark and wake me up?”
“I was about to point that out. Maybe she did but you were so exhausted you didn’t hear a thing.” Josh read the brief one-line message and shook his head. “It isn’t exactly a declaration of war, is it?”
While they debated the tone of the note, Harry watched them pass it back and forth, and grumbled, “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch that damn thing? You both should know better. It’s evidence.”
“Sorry. Too late,” she admitted, leading the way into the kitchen. “It’s probably okay because a guy like this isn’t going to make stupid mistakes by leaving his DNA or prints on anything.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s a genius, a serial killer just thought you needed cheering up and decided to do something about it. He took a lot of risks by coming here to our home,” Josh remarked, his comments laced with irritation. “Let’s see this flower arrangement.”
His Garden of Bones Page 5