River of Bones

by Dan Padavona

  “I can research the case on my own time. It’s not an issue. Besides, it’s not my fault we’re so far behind.”

  “So it’s my fault? I’m here on my day off.”

  Raven took a calming breath.

  “Chelsey, you call in sick two, three times a week, and you never say no to a prospective client.”

  “We need to keep the momentum going. If we fall off, we’ll lose business.”

  “Then hire a third investigator. I’ve told you this for months. Bring another investigator on board, or cut down on the caseload.”

  Chelsey tapped a pen against her palm and tossed it across the desk.

  “It’s difficult finding qualified applicants in a sleepy resort village. And either way, if you stopped playing around with your friends and focused on your work once in a while, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

  Raven’s fingers clawed at the chair. Incensed, she wanted to tear the upholstery. It took her several breaths before she readied herself to reply.

  “I’m here a lot more than you, Chelsey. If anyone isn’t pulling her weight, it’s the sick chick who never sleeps.”

  Chelsey tugged at her necklace. Raven searched for the lacerations, but Chelsey’s T-shirt concealed the cuts.

  “I haven’t felt well lately.”

  “Lately is going on a month. Are you okay? I mean, really okay? If you want to talk, I’m here for you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be fine once the hot days end. I’m sure it’s one of those summer flus.”

  Raven rubbed her eyes. Holding a logical conversation with Chelsey was impossible.

  “Fine. No sense in me being here and catching your cold. I’ll grab my case files and work from home.”

  Chelsey held up a hand when Raven stood.

  “I’m trying to find another investigator.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “No luck yet.”

  Raven sat down and rolled her chair to Chelsey’s.

  “Hire LeVar.”

  Chelsey stared at Raven as if she’d grown a second head.

  “Your brother?”

  “Why not? He’s majoring in criminal justice and taking classes.”

  “He’s enrolled. Classes don’t begin until the end of the month. We’re talking about the enforcer for the Harmon Kings, right? The teenager I chased into an abandoned warehouse?”

  “Give him a chance. If you’d seen him working with Darren and Scout—”

  “How many people did you rope into your investigative team?”

  “Just the four of us.”

  Chelsey dropped her head back and blinked at the ceiling.

  “All right, go on.”

  “LeVar has a knack for investigative work. And you know he’s fast enough to run anyone down. Who would mess with him? Just give him a chance.” When Chelsey didn’t reply, Raven touched her arm. Chelsey flinched as though shocked. “Come on, one interview. Do it for me.”

  Chelsey removed her feet from the desk and exhaled through her hands.

  “One interview. That’s all he gets.” Raven reached out to hug her friend. Chelsey backed away. “But it has to be this afternoon. My schedule is booked solid next week.”

  “I’ll tell him. How does two o’clock sound?”

  “Deal. Raven, if he isn’t here by two, I’m leaving. No second chances.”

  * * *

  Thomas watched the guest house through the bedroom window, worried he’d made the wrong choice. Naomi was unhappy with her daughter. But she allowed Scout to work on the investigation, provided Darren, Raven, and LeVar monitored her activities.

  LeVar’s shadow passed over the window. Scout was in the guest house, no doubt working on the case and drawing one step closer to an unknown murderer. Which made Thomas’s spine stiffen.

  And that name. Dawn. It lay inside a forgotten memory.

  Picking up his phone, he dialed Gray and nestled into his chair, letting the idyllic lake view relax his nerves.

  “Pretty soon, I’ll have to take my old job back,” Gray laughed. “What is it this time?”

  “You probably heard Justine Adkins is missing.”

  “I have. Nasty business, Thomas. Those girls held a secret, and it’s coming back on them.”

  “I have a lead. It’s a weak one, but it’s all I have. Are you aware there’s an unofficial forum for Wolf Lake High alumni?”

  “Sure, everyone knows about it.”

  Not everyone, Thomas thought. He told Gray about Webb-WLHS.

  “I’m not surprised someone had it in for Paige and Justine. Those girls are trouble. Well, Paige Sutton is. I got the impression Justine was along for the ride, a bystander. But neither girl told me anything that would have helped us locate Skye Feron, so they’re both guilty, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “There wasn’t anyone with the last name Webb in their graduating class.”

  “Hmm.” Thomas pictured Gray tugging his mustache in thought. “Did you check the sophomore and junior classes? Maybe this person was younger.”

  “No one named Webb in those classes, either. The poster kept bringing up someone named Dawn. That name seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

  Gray sucked in a breath.

  “Dawn Samson.”

  “You remember her?”

  “That was a terrible summer, Thomas. Dawn Samson hung herself. The suicide destroyed the community. Before we came to grips with the loss, Skye Feron disappeared a few weeks later.”

  Thomas remembered now. He read about the suicide while working in Los Angeles, shocked a Wolf Lake student took her life.

  “And nobody connected the cases?”

  “There wasn’t a connection. Dawn had a rough home life. Both parents were alcoholics, and child services kept showing up after the neighbors complained the Samsons were beating their children.”

  Thomas sat forward.

  “So Dawn had a sibling.”

  “A brother, yes. Alec Samson. He was a year younger than Dawn.”

  “Did the kid have a record?”

  “Nope. You’d figure a kid who suffered through that much torment would get into trouble—fights, drugs, something. But he was clean as a whistle. Anyhow, we tried to link the Dawn Samson and Skye Feron cases. It was a dead end road.”

  “You’re certain Dawn’s suicide wasn’t foul play.”

  “I trust Virgil’s opinion. As I recall, the ligature marks on her neck indicated suicide. A chaotic pattern would have suggested someone tied the rope around Dawn’s neck and fought her. That wasn’t the case.”

  “And with Skye…”

  “She just vanished. There was no evidence to tie her to Dawn Samson, though I always worried we’d missed something important.”

  A black crow flew past the window and set down atop the guest house, its head swiveling as the sun dissolved into the bird’s black eyes.

  “Sheriff, this Webb-WLHS person claims Paige and Justine tortured Dawn.” Gray went silent. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “My God, Thomas. That’s the missing link. Did those girls drive Dawn to suicide?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Saturday, August 14th

  1:20 p.m.

  LeVar stood before the mirror and scowled. He looked like a penguin.

  “You’re very handsome,” Naomi said from behind, straightening his jacket. “I’d hire you in an instant.”

  “I don’t know.” LeVar pushed his hair back. “Should I hide the dreads inside the jacket?”

  The horrified look Naomi gave him in the mirror answered his question. Watching from the front room of the guest house, Scout snorted. Naomi shot her daughter a warning glare not to upset LeVar.

  Not that it mattered. His heart pounded, and he couldn’t breathe with the tie cinched up to his Adam’s apple. Even when Ruth Sims interviewed him for the Broken Yolk job, he’d been a hot mess. But this was the real deal. The big leagues. Three months ago, he was a street kid living on borr
owed time. After today, he might have a full-time job in his dream profession.

  If he didn’t blow the interview.

  After Raven called with the good news, he’d borrowed a navy blue jacket, matching slacks, a white dress shirt, and a tie from Thomas. Fortunately, LeVar still had his dress shoes from two years ago when Trey died. LeVar almost quit the Kings after someone gunned down his friend in Harmon. The police never found the shooter, though LeVar suspected the rival Royals gang murdered Trey.

  Staring into the mirror, he wiped his clammy hands on his jacket and forced his best smile.

  “Just relax and be yourself,” Naomi said, picking lint off his shoulder. “You know Chelsey.”

  “Yeah, and she hates me.”

  “She hates everyone,” said Scout, wheeling herself down the hallway. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “Thanks a ton.”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Naomi said, tugging on the jacket sleeves. No matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t alter physics. LeVar was two sizes larger than Thomas. This was the best they could do on short notice. “Thomas says Chelsey is going through a tough time. All the more reason she needs someone reliable to help her at the office. I’m sure Raven put in a kind word for you.”

  LeVar’s mouth was too dry to swallow. As if she sensed his discomfort, Scout tossed him his iced tea.

  “Thanks.” He took a swig. “I owe you one. Both of you.”

  “You buy the pizza after your first paycheck,” Scout said.

  “I low-key can’t wait until I get this interview done with. At least I still have the Broken Yolk if today goes south.”

  “Positive thoughts,” Scout said, drawing a nod from Naomi.

  He gave the mirror one last glance.

  “Okay. I can do this.”

  As he fidgeted with the cuffs, Naomi rounded Scout’s wheelchair.

  “Let’s give LeVar space so he can get ready.”

  His hands refused to sit still. He straightened the tie for the hundredth time, tucking the end into his jacket. The tie was like an ill-mannered snake that refused to stay in its cage.

  “Call us when it’s over,” Naomi said, patting his shoulder as they headed out the door. “You’ll knock her socks off.”

  The door closed, locking him inside the silent house. Alone with his thoughts.

  Was this actually happening? If Chelsey hired LeVar, he wouldn’t need a college loan. He pictured his mother’s face if he won the job. Despite Serena’s differences with Raven, she always expected her daughter to achieve success. But not LeVar.

  Until now.

  He peeked out the window. Naomi pushed Scout up the walkway Thomas carved last spring. His heart warmed. For the first time in his life, he had dependable friends and an extended family to pick him up when he was down. People believed in him, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. His car, a black Chrysler Limited that had once been the most feared vehicle in Nightshade County, waited in Thomas’s driveway. He calculated the drive to Wolf Lake Consulting in his head, intent on arriving five minutes early, even if he encountered traffic. Which meant he needed to unlock his frozen knees and get moving.

  He inhaled deeply and let the breath out.

  Grabbing his keys off the counter, he pocketed his wallet. Then the phone rang.

  LeVar considered letting the call go to voice-mail. What if it was Chelsey changing the appointment time?

  He answered without glancing at the screen.

  “LeVar, I’m in trouble.”

  Anthony.

  LeVar set his hand on the jamb. He’d been seconds from walking out the door.

  “Now is not a good time, bro. I got things to do.”

  “It’s Rev. Somehow, he found out. He’s gonna kill me and my mom.”

  LeVar closed his eyes. Not now.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Kilo pulled me aside, man.” Kilo was the new enforcer for the Harmon Kings, the thug who took LeVar’s spot. He’d earned his moniker by pushing drugs in Harmon, another reason LeVar left the Kings. “Says Rev heard I was tryin’ to get out. He ain’t playin’, LeVar. This time it’s for real.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In my apartment. They’re outside. The Kings. At least seven of them surrounding the place. I can’t find my mom. She won’t answer her phone, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Call the police, Anthony.”

  “What? Hell, no.”

  “You have to.”

  “What happened to you, LeVar? Four months ago, you wouldn’t trust a cop if he was your great uncle. Now you livin’ in luxury, and suddenly, you think the police are our friends. No cop gonna help me or my mom.”

  “I told you, Anthony. I can’t get you out of this one. Just make the call. Don’t tell the police who you are. Give them the address and say the Harmon Kings surrounded the apartment with guns. They’ll—”

  “Oh, shit. They’re coming, LeVar. Rev, Kilo, all of them. I think Kilo set me up.”

  LeVar pushed through the door and ran toward the car.

  “Stay away from the windows and lock the doors. I’m on my way, little bro.”

  Anthony yelled a second before a window shattered. The line died.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Saturday, August 14th

  1:30 p.m.

  Aguilar set a berry smoothie in front of Thomas. He sat at the small table inside the kitchen at the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department, the blender blades whirling behind them as Aguilar waited for her afternoon snack. He took a sip and grimaced.

  “Too sweet?” she asked.

  “No. It’s cold. How many ice cubes did you put in this smoothie?”

  “Suck it up, Sally. I’m sure you can tough it out. There are thirty-five grams of protein in that drink. You want to support your workouts, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Then you need protein. Drink up.”

  He took another sip and swallowed. Not bad, except the drink numbed his throat. Spreading his notes on the table, Thomas jabbed his finger at the address Scout and LeVar gave him.

  “The house belongs to Cathy Webb. Age twenty-nine, born and raised in Syracuse. She moved to County Line Road six years ago.”

  Aguilar poured her smoothie into a mason jar and joined Thomas at the table. She frowned.

  “That’s around the same time Skye Feron vanished. Might be a coincidence.”

  “I don’t think so.” Thomas removed a photocopied yearbook picture of Dawn Samson’s brother, Alec. The boy looked like every teenager—acne dotting his forehead, an uncomfortable smile, dark hair styled into a mid fade with the sides buzzed and the top combed back. But there was something wrong with the boy’s eyes. A hidden devilry Thomas couldn’t define. “Cathy Webb’s place is also the last known address for Alec Samson. According to my records, Webb is Alec’s cousin.”

  “The brother of the girl who committed suicide. Does he still live with his cousin?”

  “That’s the strange part. He closed his account at the First National Bank of Harmon four years ago. Since then, no tax returns, no employment, and his driver’s license expired. It’s like the boy fell off the edge of the earth.”

  “Like Skye Feron. Maybe someone killed him too.”

  “Don’t say it.”

  Aguilar drank her smoothie and wiped her lips on a napkin.

  “Cathy Webb must be the Webb-WLHS writing all those nasty things about Paige Sutton and Justine Adkins. Can’t say I blame her, if those women drove her cousin to commit suicide. What’s wrong with teenagers?”

  Thomas thought back to Ray Welch. Ray bullied Thomas for years, and nobody stopped it.

  “Right now, she’s our number one suspect.”

  “What about Gene Maldonado?”

  “The manager at the Orange Tulip?”

  “Lambert looked into Maldonado’s background and found something interesting.”

  Aguilar passed a case folder to Thomas. He scanned the docu
ments and arched his brow.

  “Shoplifting at seventeen.”

  “Check out what he stole.”

  Thomas ran his finger down the document and paused.

  “A girlie magazine. So he was a teenage boy with raging hormones. That doesn’t make him a predator.”

  Aguilar crossed her legs.

  “What do we know about serial rapists? Lying and stealing are common traits for future rapists. Many are loners who engage in impulsive activities.”

  “Maldonado’s job allows him to avoid people for most of the day. He handles a few people checking in. Otherwise he’s always alone.”

  “And he admits he sneaked into Justine Adkins’s room. That’s damn impulsive and creepy. By the way, Maldonado drives a blue Honda Odyssey.”

  Thomas set his drink aside.

  “That might be the vehicle that sped through the parking lot outside the supermarket. Why do you believe Maldonado attacked Justine Adkins?”

  “It’s just a theory. But if he raped Justine, he had good reason to get rid of her. Lock her away or kill her so she couldn’t go to the police.”

  “This feels like a stretch.”

  “Imagine the situation from Maldonado’s perspective. How many single women get rooms at the bed-and-breakfast? And of the few that do, do any of them have Justine’s looks? He must have drooled on the floor the second she stepped foot in his office.”

  “So we add Maldonado to our suspect list.”

  “That’s my suggestion. What now?”

  Thomas grabbed Alec Samson’s photo and studied the boy’s dead eyes.

  “Let’s visit Cathy Webb and find out what happened to Alec Samson.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Saturday, August 14th

  1:55 p.m.

  LeVar punched the steering wheel when Chelsey didn’t answer her phone. He’d called her five times in the last half-hour to explain what was happening. No chance she’d reschedule the interview. He’d been right about Chelsey—the woman hated him and would never trust the former enforcer for the Harmon Kings.