08-A Thousand Bones, page 9
Joe was quiet, listening.
“And see this locomotive? Something of the past. Same with the windmill.”
“Okay.”
“And one more thing,” Mike said. “All of these charms are from places. There’s not one thing on the bracelet to represent her family, like brothers or sisters.” He paused. “Come to think of it, there’s nothing even personal about herself, like a musical instrument or a doll. Just places.”
Joe sat back. “Except for a charm from a school she wanted to escape. She wanted to be somewhere else.”
Mike gave a shrug and wadded up his napkin.
Across the canal, Joe heard a woman’s laughter, and she glanced over at Pete. One of the blond martini grannies was on his balcony, serving him a tray of cheese and a glass of wine. Pete gave her a pat on the rump, and she disappeared back inside his shanty.
It took Joe a moment to understand what it was about the scene that bothered her. It was the attention the woman was giving Pete, and she tried to remember the last time she had brought Brad anything on a tray.
“Joe,” Mike said, “promise me you won’t say anything about the notebooks.”
“I promise.”
“I mean to the guys.”
“God, I promise.” She shook her head and smiled. “You know, you should share them with Mindy. Wives love seeing that softer side of their men.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, Mindy has all the softness my house needs.”
Joe was putting the photographs away when Mike’s radio paged them. He grabbed it with a sigh of annoyance.
Sheriff Leach’s voice snapped from it. “Where are you two?”
“Over at Fishtown.”
“Get back out to the woods now.”
Joe stood up, keying her radio. “Sir, can I ask the reason?”
“They’ve found another bone, Joe.”
11
It lay atop a bed of brown oak leaves, a small half-moon thing that looked like a piece of carved ivory jewelry.
Except for the teeth.
It was a jawbone. Joe could see that clearly even from her vantage point behind Mack and Sheriff Leach. And when the sun came out from behind a cloud, she saw a glint of metal.
“Braces?” Leach said.
Mack took a step forward. “Damn right it’s braces. And that means we’re looking at Annabelle Chapel here. She wore braces. This is my girl.”
Leach looked at each of them. His eyes lingered on Joe before he spoke. “Okay, we will proceed now on the assumption that this may be Annabelle Chapel.” He looked at Mack. “How do you want to handle this?”
“We need to get the searchers back for a new grid,” Mack said. “And we should call down to Davison for some dogs.”
“Dogs?” Mike said.
“Canine search units,” Mack said, drawing the words out just enough to sound condescending. “If there’s more bones out there, the dogs will find them.”
“We’d better get this taped off,” Leach said. “Hundred-yard-square perimeter.”
“Holt,” Mack said quickly.
“Yes, sir.” Holt was gone, heading to the cruiser.
“And flag some trees leading back to the road so the searchers can find this place,” Mack yelled after him.
Leach was looking around at the woods, and Joe could almost read what he was thinking. They were about a half-mile from the prayer tree where the first set of bones had been found by the kids. This new bone confirmed that the body had never been buried, or at least not very deep, because the only way this jawbone could have traveled so far would have been in the teeth of a scavenger.
She spotted a flash of red in the far trees. Then she realized it had to be the flags that marked the boundary of the grid from the original search last week. The team had worked out from the prayer tree and marked the far boundary with the red flags. That’s why they had missed the jawbone, even though it was a mere ten yards or so beyond the search perimeter.
“Damn,” Leach said, almost to himself. “We’re going to need more men out here.”
Joe knew what he was thinking. Their department couldn’t handle what now needed to be done. Although they had kept the area around the prayer tree taped off, there had been no effective way to keep people out. The woods were open country, not part of a state park with a gate that could be conveniently locked. Since the word of the bones discovery, a steady stream of curiosity seekers had been tramping through the area. That was how the jawbone had been found—by a couple of hikers who had read Theo’s story and had come up from Traverse City to poke around.
Joe knew there would be others. The past week of colder weather had accelerated the changing leaves. The annual influx of leaf peepers was just beginning and would make their jobs even harder.
“Mike,” Mack said, drawing her attention back. “As soon as you get back to the station, I want you on the phone to Chicago. I want Annabelle Chapel’s dental records.”
Mike nodded. The four of them just stood for a moment, letting the soft silence of the woods surround them. The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees in the last hour, and the sun was struggling against the gray clouds advancing from the north.
She glanced at Mike. He was hunched down into his jacket, hands thrust in his pockets, his eyes riveted on the jawbone. His face was strangely slack. She was watching him so intently she didn’t hear Mack the first time he addressed her.
“Frye.”
She looked up.
“I want you to stay here and wait for the search team.”
Joe knew the team had to come from Lansing. That meant two to three hours. Mack was pushing her to the margins again. She caught a blink of sympathy from Mike before he turned away.
Joe followed him up a small hill. He stopped at the base of a tree, staring down at the leaves.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me that. What’s wrong?”
He didn’t look up at her. “Jenny has braces,” he said.
It didn’t register at first. Then she remembered Jenny was Mike’s daughter. Joe let out a quiet sigh. She moved closer and touched his sleeve.
“Mike—”
His shrug wasn’t rough, but it was definite. He walked a few yards off and lit a cigarette.
“Mike, you shouldn’t—”
He silenced her with a stare and looked away.
Joe zipped her windbreaker higher and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Mack and Leach were already heading back to the road, their brown jackets two specks that blended in with the falling leaves. Damn, it was getting cold. She glanced at her watch. Going on four.
She started to wander, her eyes scanning the ground, her toe gently kicking at the leaves. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be searching, and the chances of seeing anything under the leaves was slim, but she couldn’t help herself.
A squawking sound drew her eyes up, and she watched a wedge of geese pressing south, their black wings ticking off retreating checkmarks against the gray sky.
When she finally wandered back to Mike forty minutes later, he was looking at his watch.
“Where the hell is Holt?” he said.
On cue, the crunch of leaves announced Holt’s return. He was red-faced and out of breath, and his shoes and cuffs were mud-caked.
“What happened to you?” Mike asked.
“There’s a big-ass hill over there,” he said, pointing. “And a big-ass ravine down there with a big-ass mud hole.”
He wiped at his face and took a halfhearted swipe at the muddy seat of his pants. “I’m going home,” he muttered, rolling up the yellow crime tape. He started off toward the logging road.
“I’ll come with you,” Mike said.
“You’re not staying with me?” Joe asked.
He shrugged. “You can handle things. And you heard Mack. I have to get going with the dental records. And Mindy is expecting me home early tonight—”
“Go,” Joe said quickly. More quickly than she intended.
“You keep the unit. I’ll ride back with Holt.”
Joe listened to the crunch of Mike’s boots through the leaves as he ran to catch up with Holt. She heard the distant cough of the cruiser starting up and then nothing. The sudden quiet of the deep woods was engulfing. No birds or animals, no hum of human activity. Not even a trace of wind stirring the leaves.
She glanced again at her watch and then up to the west. The sun was a pale face imprisoned behind the bars of pine trees.
It bugged her that Mike had cut out. Not that he just left her alone but that he seemed so eager to get away from this place. It wasn’t just the thing about his daughter, either. It was the whole case. It was the whole damn thing about being a cop. Then the real source of her irritation hit her: How could he take for granted something she so desperately wanted?
Joe looked up at the tree where the jawbone had been found. It was a huge old oak. For a second, she thought about getting down on her knees, clearing away the leaves, and digging for more bones.
She kicked the oak’s trunk. “Fuck you, Mack,” she muttered.
She had to get outside the search perimeter before her frustration made her do something stupid and contaminate the scene.
Stuffing her cold hands into her pockets, she headed west toward the copse of pines. Ducking under the yellow tape, she paused to retie one end that was coming loose. The tape went left, stretching south into heavier trees. She headed that way to make sure Holt had tied the other ends tightly.
She walked slowly, staying near the tape so she wouldn’t get lost in the fading light. Holt had taped off a very rough square that proceeded south up a rocky hill and through a thick stand of trees. She was breathing hard by the time she crested the hill. As the tape turned east, the hill dipped sharply into heavy brush, and the ground grew wet and slippery. She had to grab a sapling to keep from sliding downhill until the ground bottomed out into a morass of mud. Finally, the ground dried out in a carpet of needles and leaves as she headed back toward her starting point.
She came to a stop back at the oak. Still no sign of the searchers, and it was too cold to stop, so she just kept walking. She walked the perimeter once more, her eyes checking her watch and her ears pricked for the sound of a car. Nothing. After the third time, she reversed her course out of sheer boredom.
It was when she rounded the western edge of the tape that she saw it. Something carved in the huge oak tree slightly above eye level. She hadn’t seen it the first two times because it was on the back of the tree. She moved toward it.
It looked like a man standing in a boat. It was definitely some kind of design, because whoever had carved it had taken their time, making it even and clear and deep. And it didn’t seem like a casual memento, like lovers leaving their initials in a heart. Why was this here? And did it mean anything?
Her mother’s voice was suddenly in her head. A button can lead to a blouse and a blouse to a store and to a credit card receipt…
Joe glanced up at the thickening clouds. She knew what she needed to do. She walked quickly, relying on the yellow markers Holt had left to find her way back to the lone cruiser parked on the logging road. Inside, she paused to warm her hands and then radioed in.
Augie told her he would call down to Lansing and find out what had happened to the search crew.
“Is Mike still there?” she asked.
“I just heard him radio in that he was off duty at home,” Augie said.
Damn.
Joe clicked off and popped open the glove box, taking out the Instamatic camera they kept for recording accident scenes. Grabbing a flashlight, she got out of the cruiser, forgetting about Augie until she heard his voice.
“Joe, the searchers aren’t coming tonight,” he said. “They didn’t get started soon enough to make any daylight. Sheriff says for you to come back in, and he’ll send a swing-shift deputy out tonight to check on things.”
“Thanks.”
She slipped from the cruiser and followed Holt’s markers back to the oak tree.
She snapped two photos of the carving, then checked how many exposures were left—two. She brought the camera up to take another shot, then paused, peering into the darkness.
The prayer tree. She concentrated, trying to remember every detail from the tree where they had found the other bones. She had not seen a carving there, but there hadn’t been any reason to notice one before.
Shining the flashlight toward the far trees, she started off in what she was sure was a southward direction, knowing what she was doing was foolhardy and a long shot. The night was moonlit, moving like a current of cold gray water around her. The flashlight beam picked up the tree trunks and the ghostly exhalations of her quickening breath.
Had she gone a half-mile? She had no idea. And she had the crazy thought that by the time the swing-shift deputy got here, she was going to end up yelling for rescue, looking like a fool.
She stopped suddenly, not sure why, and moved the flashlight beam higher. She let out a breath as the sweeping arms of the prayer tree emerged from the darkness.
Moving forward, she trained the flashlight at the rough bark. No carvings. No marks at all.
She stepped around to the back of the tree. It was faint, so faint that if she hadn’t been looking for it, she never would have noticed it. But it was there.
It was not carved as deeply as the other one, and it looked worn by weather and time. It was different from the first one, except maybe for the U shape on the bottom.
She set the flashlight on the ground, stepped back and took a picture. The flash was blinding, and she had to blink the trunk back into focus. She took one more shot before the clicking confirmed the film was used up.
The darkness seemed thicker in the aftermath of the flash. For a second, she couldn’t see the tree, couldn’t see anything.
She knelt, grabbing the flashlight from the leaves. She swung it up to the prayer tree. The odd carving stared back at her like a taunting smile.
12
It was late by the time she got back to the station. She had been so cold and muddy that she took a quick shower in the deserted men’s locker room and then waited until Augie got off shift so he could drive her home.
There was a light burning in the window of the cottage when they pulled up.
“Isn’t that sweet,” Augie said.
“Don’t be such a cynic, Augie.”
“A cynic is someone who knows the cost of everything but the value of nothing. I, my dear Joette, am a romantic. I just wish Theo was. He never leaves candles burning when I’m late.”
She had called Brad from the station, but there had been no answer. As she gazed at the candle in the window, it occurred to her that its meaning was as mysterious to her as those carvings in the woods. Was it a conciliatory signal after their argument last night?
She started to get out of the car, then paused, looking down at the Instamatic in her hand. Her initial thought had been to drop it off at the Rexall tomorrow for old man Dirksen to develop, just as they always did. But she couldn’t risk anyone seeing the carvings before she talked to Leach.
Joe popped the film out. “Augie, I need a favor. Would you ask Theo to develop this for me?”
She could see Augie cock an eyebrow in the dim dome light given out by his ancient VW. “Don’t ask?” he asked.
“Don’t ask. Thanks for the ride, Augie.”
They exchanged good nights, and the VW sputtered off down the road.
Inside the cottage, she heard the shower running. Something was simmering on the stove, and the smell made her stomach churn with hunger. A fire was burning in the stone hearth, trying to hold back the cold creeping under the poorly caulked windows. She shrugged out of her windbreaker and took off her mud-caked shoes. She got a Stroh’s from the fridge and took it to the bedroom, where she hung her gun belt on its hook behind the door. She stripped and put on her robe. She picked up a brush to comb the tangles out of her hair, still wet from the hasty shower back at the station.
The bathroom door was open, and the shower had fogged up the mirror over the bureau in their bedroom. She wiped it with her bathrobe sleeve.
Her face stared back at her, pale and indistinct, the way the sun had looked earlier as it sank in the cold, clouded sky. She moved away as she slowly brushed her hair.
She had never liked her face very much, never seeing any beauty in its clean architecture. She had always wanted the pug noses and Barbie-doll eyes of the cheerleader girls. Or maybe a girl like Annabelle Chapel. She had a sudden flash of memory, of sitting next to her dad in a gymnasium, watching her older brother, Dennis, in a basketball game.
I’m ugly, Daddy.
You’re beautiful.
Not like them, I’m not.
No. They’re easy to add up. They’re plain old arithmetic.
So what am I?
Geometry, Joey. Not everyone gets it.
Arms came around her waist. “Hey, baby.”
She closed her eyes. Brad’s breath was warm and toothpaste-tangy at her neck. His body was hard against her back. She leaned into him.
“Does this mean I am forgiven?” she asked.
“For what?”
She faced him. “For being a bitch last night?”
“You’re working too hard,” Brad said.
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Why didn’t you call?” he said.
“I did. You weren’t here.”
“Had to work late again.”
“So did I. We found another bone in the woods, and—”
She could feel him growing hard against her.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“No,” she lied. “Brad, out in the woods, there were these carvings—”
He silenced her with a kiss. At first, she didn’t respond. It was the fatigue and everything about the day in the way. But then…he kissed her again, and slowly, things began to fade away, and she was left with nothing but his mouth covering hers and the hard press of his hips warming her cold bones.
