“I like the flowers,” I murmured, turning around and reveling in the feel of him holding me tighter. “But most of all, I’m glad you came back.”
Danny hadn’t, even when I’d done nothing to deserve him walking out. Bones had, and I’d given him more than enough reason to keep going. I wrapped my arms around him, that ache in my chest returning as I inhaled, taking in his scent and closing my eyes as his lips brushed my neck. Right then it didn’t matter that I was the only one of us who was technically alive. He didn’t need to breathe because I breathed for him, and my heartbeat surely pushed the blood through his veins as well as through my own.
Right then, in my arms, he was as human as he needed to be.
Chapter Five
Death and Taxes
Author’s note: This deleted scene took place during chapter 15 in Halfway to the Grave, right after Bones meets Timmie and right before Cat has her encounter with Spade in the cave. It was cut because my editor didn’t feel it revealed anything new to the story and thus slowed the pacing. To give a brief setup, Cat and Bones are investigating to see if a girl from a withdrawn missing person’s report was another of Hennessey’s victims.
Bones sat next to me. He wore a suit and tie. A briefcase was at his feet, right next to his shiny business shoes. In his professional ensemble, complete with thin, rimless glasses, he appeared the very picture of mundane respectability. Talk about a disguise.
“So you see, Mrs. Phillips, why we would feel this was important enough to interrupt you at your place of employment,” Bones was saying. “We at the Internal Revenue Service take tax evasion very seriously.”
“Of course you would,” the brunette sitting at her desk opposite us agreed. She kept twisting her fake pearls around her neck. Madeline Phillips was a real estate agent in Hocking County. Her office was tidy, with several pictures of her and a smiling Amanda Phillips in the room.
“Now, if I understand you correctly…” Bones consulted the paperwork in his hands, which had nothing to do with tax laws. “You filed last year that your daughter Amanda was living at home, still a dependent, and attending Hocking Community College. Is that your position for this current year as well?”
A firm nod. “Yes.”
My head banged louder. The pantyhose I wore felt like a lower-body straitjacket. I’d never worn any before, and I wasn’t going to make it a habit. They went well with my long wool skirt and matching jacket, however.
Bones leaned forward. “Mrs. Phillips. You called the police last July to report that your daughter hadn’t come home. Then you never followed up with that. Are you telling me Amanda lives with you, even as of today?”
Her fingers drummed on the desk. “Yes. Granted, she had me worried that night, but she apologized and hasn’t done it since. You’re too young to have a twenty-year-old child, but let me tell you, they’re a handful. She’s always on the run.”
Madeleine Phillips was wrong on both counts. Bones could be a great-great-great grandfather if vampires reproduced, and Amanda hadn’t been on the run at all lately. She was dead. And if that weren’t bad enough, according to Winston, she’d been dead for over a month.
I got up and closed the verticals without being asked. Our charade of being IRS agents in order to get a private meeting with Mrs. Phillips was over. It was time to go green and find out if this woman was the coldest bitch on the planet… or the most deceived.
When I turned around, locking the door as a last precaution, Bones already had his brights on. He leaned over the desk toward Madeline, his unnecessary glasses off.
“Look deeper, that’s right… Now tell me, when did you really last see Amanda?”
Her eyes were crystal blue and transfixed on his. “I-I don’t know… I don’t know!”
“Kitten, you might want to turn your back.”
“Why?” God, he wasn’t going to start beating the shit out of her, was he?
“She’s been bitten—I can feel it,” he replied flatly. “I’ll have to drink from her to push her past it. Otherwise she can’t answer me with the truth.”
Oh. I cleared my throat. No, I didn’t care to see Bones feed, he was right about that. But it seemed cowardly in the extreme to turn around.
“Go ahead. Do what you have to do.”
Bones met my eyes briefly, then circled around the desk to where Madeline sat. Her hair was already up in a bun, so he didn’t have to bother with that. He undid a button on her shirt, pulling her collar open farther, and bent to her neck.
I only saw the back of his head and her face. Heard her slight intake of breath, saw her mouth open to make the sound, and then watched her eyelids slowly close. When they were all the way shut, he pulled back, rebuttoning her blouse and kneeling in front of her.
“No marks,” I said, feeling very strange and remembering how there hadn’t been any on the other girl I’d stumbled on him feeding from weeks ago. “How, ah… How do you close the holes?”
“You already know that.”
My fingers clenched, which was ridiculous. Yeah, I had a good idea, but hearing it confirmed didn’t make me any happier. He’d cut his tongue on a fang and held it over the spot until it healed. Since we’d been sleeping together, my method of swallowing his blood had gone from licking it off his fingers to sucking it from his tongue after he did that while we kissed. It was no surprise to discover he had more than one use for it and learn where he’d gotten the idea from.
“It’s not the same,” he said quietly, studying my face.
“We have more important things going on. Ask her about her daughter, for God’s sake.” My voice was harsher than I’d meant it to be, because I wasn’t really mad at him. I was sick over this whole thing. So many girls missing or dead, and we still didn’t know how many people were involved. Before we came here, we’d looked into the other names Winston had given me. Aside from Violet Perkins, whose human boyfriend had strangled her in a mescaline-induced rage, none of the others had even been reported missing. They were dead, and no one, not even their families, knew anything about it.
He stared at me for another second before returning his gaze to Madeline. “Now tell me, and nothing is hidden any longer, when did you last see Amanda? You don’t have to be afraid. No one will hurt you.”
She started to shake. Tears flowed, and her face transformed into an expression of agony. “I don’t know where my little girl is! She went out after her birthday in July, months ago, and she never came home!” Her voice rose. “She never came home!”
Bones held a finger to her lips. “Easy now, Madeline. Shhh. I’m going to help you, so don’t fret. Who made you believe Amanda was home? When did it happen?”
In a steadier tone, she relayed how the day after her daughter hadn’t come home, someone else had. Madeline couldn’t tell us what he looked like. She’d been hit with his eyes too fast, but she knew it was a man, for what little information that was worth. He’d instilled in her that Amanda was fine, she’d just seen her, and to go about her usual routine and do nothing further with the police. It had helped that her ex-husband was a loser neither of them had seen in years. Madeline’s parents were deceased, and she had no other children. To any of Amanda’s friends who called, Madeline had been programmed to say she’d moved. Just like the Spencers, though their daughter had told them that herself, and the jury was still out on whether Natalie was a victim or a villain.
So Madeline continued to pay for an education which wasn’t utilized, kept Amanda’s insurance current on a vehicle that wasn’t there, and was oblivious to the fact that she’d never seen her daughter again.
“All right, Madeline,” Bones said when she was finished. “I want you to look at the clock. It’s three minutes to five. When its five o’clock, you won’t remember anything you’ve just said. Or anything I’ve asked you. We’re just two IRS agents who inquired about your returns, and now you’re no longer going to lie on your taxes. We didn’t talk about anything else, and nothing has changed with your daught
er.”
“What?” I gasped.
“She walks out of this room saying anything else, and what do you think will happen?” he asked me without looking away. “They know who she is. She’ll be lucky if they just kill her, but in all likelihood, they’ll have a waste-not, want-not attitude. You want to sentence her to that? I’d say she’s had enough cruelty done to her.”
“But… But it’s…” There weren’t enough words to describe how wrong that felt, leaving her in her state of instilled illusions.
“Not until they’re dead, Kitten. That’s the only way she’ll be safe.”
There was no other point I could argue. He was right. It was still wrong, but in this case, wrong was the best we could do for her.
Seconds ticked past. Bones moved away and was seated again when the clock struck five. Madeline blinked—and then her features settled back into polite wariness without a hint of their former pain.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Phillips,” he said, rising. “We’ll be leaving now.”
She stood as well, unaware that tears were still drying on her face. “I’ll have my accountant go over those figures more carefully next time.”
He nodded. “We won’t need to return if you do, I’m sure.”
I left without speaking. What could I say? Have a nice day?
Bones placed a hand on my back as we left the building. His touch was light, barely discernable, yet it kept my legs straight as we walked. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kill someone. I didn’t want to ever know things like this could actually happen.
“They kept her alive for two months,” was what I said as we got into the rental car.
Bones didn’t start it. He just looked at me. “You’ve already done a great deal to help these girls. More than can be expected. There’s no shame in letting me take it the rest of the way. You won’t be abandoning them.”
I considered dropping out for a selfish, weak second. Then I shook my head. “I’m in it until the end. However long that takes.”
He put the key in the ignition and didn’t say anything else. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes.
After several minutes, something unrelated nagged at me. “Why did you tell Madeline to stop fudging numbers on her taxes? How did you know she was doing that?”
“Come now, Kitten,” Bones said with a knowing grunt. “Who doesn’t?”
Chapter Six
The Missing Girl Who Called Home
Author’s Note: This scene formerly took place in the middle of chapter 15 in the published version of Halfway to the Grave. In it, Cat and Bones are trying to narrow down who the other girl was with Emily (the girl they rescued from Charlotte) when Emily was taken to the mysterious masked man’s house. It was taken out in final revisions because my editor felt that Cat and Bones had already chased down enough leads to be plot-pertinent. When I deleted it, I had to go back and change the earlier scene at Tara’s in chapter 14, where I’d originally written that Emily had said there was another girl with her when she was taken to the masked man’s house. I also then had to go forward and change the climactic scene at the end where Cat confronts the governor at his home. In my original version, Cat finds the missing girl from this scene alive and chained up in the governor’s basement. So as you can see, deleting even one smaller scene can cause a ripple effect of changes throughout several parts of a book.
“Is this the place?”
Bones had slowed the motorcycle enough for speech to be productive. Even though I was facing his back, I could feel him scoping out the area with his gaze.
“Second house on the left.”
It was almost twelve hours after my morning coffee with Timmie. Bones had arrived at my apartment right at dusk. He’d taken one whiff inside my place and then asked me with questionable politeness how I liked my new neighbor. That nose of his would put a bloodhound’s to shame, but then again, Bones was a true bloodhound in every sense of the word.
“Remember, luv, don’t use your real name.”
Well¸ that was easy. I barely knew it myself anymore.
Bones pulled into the driveway of the modest one-story house, and I was the one who got off. He stayed where he was, casually resting the bike upright. A young girl would look a lot less ominous to the Spencers than he would after nine at night. Natalie’s parents, if that’s who they were, lived several counties away. If I had been driving instead of Bones with his damned speedy, unsafe bike, we wouldn’t have arrived until after midnight.
My knock was greeted with slight grumbles, but then a man in his early fifties answered the door. “Hello?”
I smiled brightly. “Mr. Spencer, it’s Suzy. Sorry to come by so late, and you probably don’t even recognize me with this new hair color—gosh, it’s been years, huh?—but when I got back into town I just had to come by and see if Natalie was home. The house looks great, by the way. Love the new paint color.”
Bones was nothing if not thorough. When he said he’d researched the Spencers, he’d researched them. I bit back the urge to say, Glad that prostate issue of yours cleared up! The Spencers had lived in Bethel for twenty years, and though they weren’t rich or influential, there was a break in the typical pattern with Natalie. She hadn’t been a loner, on drugs, or prone to any problems. That’s why we were proceeding with caution, because there was no need to green-eye or alarm these people if this was a wrong number.
George Spencer rubbed his eyes and blinked. “Um… Suzy. How, ah, how nice to see you again.”
If there was one thing my young years had already taught me, it was that men hated to admit they didn’t know someone who claimed to know them. If Mrs. Spencer had answered the door, I would have used a different ploy to get inside.
“I want you to meet my boyfriend, Cris.” I said, waving Bones over when he pretended to be hesitant. I lowered my voice as if sharing a secret. “Can you believe I snagged such a cute guy? Don’t tell him what a dork I used to be, okay?”
George Spencer appeared mildly dazed. I saw him glance up the stairs and knew if I had telepathy, I’d hear him screaming, Honey! Get down here and rescue me from this chatterbox!
“Natalie’s not here,” he said with an eye on Bones as he approached. His hand tightened on the doorway. “She moved to Los Angeles two weeks ago. Said some agent’s gonna make her the next Nicole Kidman. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She doesn’t listen to reason if it’s coming from her parents.”
“Who is it, George?” a woman’s voice called from upstairs. Must be Liz Spencer.
“Natalie’s friend Suzy!” he yelled back, sounding impatient and weary.
“Suzy?” The voice was closer, and then a graying blonde came down the stairs with her brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Natalie doesn’t have any friends named Suzy.”
Bones hit the two of them with his gaze right then, pushing past George Spencer as I closed the door behind us.
“Don’t scream,” he commanded them in that hair-raising voice of his. Two sets of eyes were instantly transfixed on his glowing ones. “When was the last time you saw Natalie?”
“Two weeks ago,” both of them answered in unison.
“And did she tell you then she was going to Los Angeles? Just you answer me, mum.”
“No,” Liz said.
“When did you first hear that?”
“The next night after I saw her. She called and said she wasn’t coming home.”
So far, just like Emily.
“And that’s the last you heard of her?” Bones asked, tapping his chin.
“No.”
That reply surprised both of us. He stopped tapping and his brows rose. “Indeed?”
“She called yesterday,” was the unexpected response. “She didn’t want us to worry and she said she was getting a phone in her apartment soon, so we’d have her number. She’d been calling from a pay phone.”
Now that didn’t make sense. Maybe this was way off. From what it sounded like, Natalie Spencer had just gone off to L
os Angeles to pursue an acting dream. I didn’t see any of Hennessey’s people letting her call her parents from forced confinement just to chat.
“Get me a recent photo of her,” Bones instructed.
Liz went to a picture on the mantel and handed it over without a word. Bones took it from the frame and tucked the photo in his jacket.
“Listen close, both of you,” he said, laying a hand on each of them. His gaze brightened even further. “We were never here. You’ve been in your rooms just as you were before, and no one came to your door. If you ever see me or her again”—a jerk of his head indicated me—“you won’t remember us. Once we leave, we never arrived.”
They both nodded, and I shifted uneasily on my feet. Yeah, this was convenient, but it was still scary that people’s minds could be manipulated so effortlessly.
“Kitten.” Bones turned to me. “Let’s go.”
“We’re taking my truck next time,” was the first thing I said as we walked outside.
Bones let out a snort. “Not likely. First, it could very well break down on the way to wherever we’re headed. Second, it’s as maneuverable as a bus if we run into a spot of trouble, and third, it’s registered in your name. I don’t want someone on Hennessey’s side to simply copy down a license number to find out who you are.”
All three were valid points. Damn him for using logic when he argued.
“What do you make of Natalie’s phone calls?” I said next, defeated in my attempt to avoid ever getting back on his bike.
“Not sure. That’s why I took the photo. I want to show it to Emily and make certain that this is the girl she saw when she was taken to the man with the mask.”
We climbed onto his bike, signaling the end of our conversation. Even with Bones’s speeding, I wouldn’t have time to shower before I had to be at class. I’d be lucky to make it on time if I only dashed in my apartment and changed my clothes.
Outtakes From the Grave Page 7