The Hungry Bones, page 13
She heard breathing. Nearby. She turned the Maglite in the direction of the sound.
Joe blinked. “Ey.”
“Sorry.” She rubbed her nose and shined the light around, surprised to be in a cell-sized space where she could stand erect. She’d read that the first evidence of Neanderthal Man was found in a cave in Germany. The article interested her because she learned that Neanderthals’ teeth grew faster than modern man’s teeth. Alexa gritted hers. This cave sheltered no Neanderthals. No bodies either.
Her beam landed on a shovel close to the wall. She walked toward it. “Wow. Look.”
Joe followed and nudged it with his boot. The head was corroded with rust and the handle was broken. Who had last touched it? She’d read at the archives about a miner who lived in a cave along the Arrow River. He’d been murdered. Her breath caught. Could this be the cave?
No. They were walking along Bush Creek, not the Arrow River.
A tin lantern rested on a ledge above the shovel, blackened by age or soot. The nub of a pale candle waited in its confines. Had it provided the only source of light for whoever sheltered here?
She moved the light in a circle looking for more evidence of inhabitancy: a sleeping loft, a pipe, or a ceramic jar of tea. There were no more remnants, but she sensed the cave had once been a refuge. “I think a miner lived in here back in the day.”
“Might have,” Joe said. “Would have kept the rain and snow off, anyway, but no sign of the missing principal.”
She searched for a passageway to more rooms, but the rock walls didn’t part. This was a dead end. The fractured skull of S1 popped into her head, and she thought wildly of taking fingerprints from the shovel handle. She had the supplies in her mini-kit. Maybe she’d come back.
Julian Getz waited outside the entrance, scaring her as she emerged. He had what looked like a miner’s helmet on with a headlamp. “Anything?” he asked.
“Empty,” Joe said.
Alexa clarified. “There’s an old shovel and lantern. You know, from the past.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “But no sign of recent entry?”
She shook her head.
“The Chinese settlement is maybe ten minutes. We’ll meet up there.” Julian hopped back over the creek. The woman searcher waved her pole, and Alexa waved back. She filled her lungs with fresh air. The sound of a helicopter made her jump. She covered her ears as it crossed above. She hated helicopters ever since her Milford Track hike with Charlie. A helicopter pilot had tried to behead her with his dangling ton of rock.
“They’ll start using night-vision goggles shortly,” Joe said.
The creek curved sharply for a hundred meters. Individual leaves, a twig on the path, rocks, and scree faded to gradients of gray. She and Joe walked parallel to Julian and the two other searchers across the creek, who wove in and out of trees like forest sprites. At the convergence with the Arrow River, Julian and his crew crossed to their side.
Daylight hung on by a thread when the first miner’s hut—a wooden structure—came into view. It pressed its back against the hillside, and was half-hidden by draping vines. Its sharply pitched roof might have been made of straw and wood—Alexa couldn’t tell in the gloaming. A wooden railing extended like bony fingers from it. There was a door-shaped entrance. The single window was barely large enough to fit a head through.
The woman searcher pointed at it with her pole. “That’s the first of five reconstructed huts. It was originally built in 1883 by Loo Lee.”
Alexa did a double take. Now she knew why the woman was familiar. She was the schoolmarm. “You work at the museum, don’t you?” she asked.
“Part time.”
Her husband checked his watch. “This isn’t time for one of your tours, Connie.”
“I know. But I feel a connection. The first woman he killed…”
“Who killed?” the husband interrupted.
“Earl Hammer. The first woman he killed had the same job I do. Cindy Mulligan was a docent at the Lakes District Museum.”
“Whoa,” Alexa said.
Julian cleared his throat. “Ms. Bowen may be alive, and we don’t know Earl Hammer is involved.” Connie nodded. “It’s just, well, I’m devo we didn’t find her.”
It would have been more devastating if we’d found her body, Alexa thought.
“It’s too dark to continue searching if you don’t have a torch,” Julian announced. “Does everyone know how to get to their cars from here?”
“I’m at the car park,” Joe said. “Anyone need a lift?”
“We can walk home,” Connie said.
“See you tomorrow,” Joe said to Julian. His eyes landed on Alexa, and he gave a courtly bow. “Make sure you walk this little lady home.”
Alexa tightened her grip on the Maglite so she didn’t bonk Joe on the head with it. Little lady. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked Julian.
He nodded and said, “We’ll just check the huts and then you can be off, eh?” He turned on the headlamp and took out a flashlight.
She could do that. She was in no hurry to face an empty cottage.
The others faded up the path. Alexa stepped closer to Julian. “I’ll check this one.” He shined his light at the first hut built into a sloping terrace. “Take a squiz at the next hut. We’ll alternate.”
She followed the winding path. The next hut was made of chinked stone. A tiny pipe chimney poked out. The structure tapered into the hillside so that there were only three walls. She aimed her light at the roof. It was reddish thatch and extended on both sides almost to the ground. The opening was off-center and shaded by the overhanging eaves. Inside was pitch-black. She squeezed the Maglite and crept up the path.
At the threshold, her legs wouldn’t budge. It was then that she thought of the kid. The red-haired boy in Connie’s pretend classroom had said he’d seen a bad man hiding in one of the huts.
No one had believed him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alexa gathered her courage and stepped into the gloom of the hut. She swept the Maglite beam across the walls, pausing in the gray and empty corners. A crude fireplace with a mantel looked like a gaping black hole with grate teeth. A rustle came from the earthen wall; she searched it with her light. A berth was carved out—maybe it had served as a bunk. She thought of rats and backed out of the hut quickly. From the rise she spotted the lights from Julian’s headlamp bouncing her way.
She stubbed her boot on a root, almost tripping, as she hustled to join him. “That one was empty.” Her voice was shaky. Should she tell Julian what the kid had said? She decided against it: She’d been in the schoolroom before Hammer had gone AWOL. The kid had probably been making things up. Kids do that.
Alexa stuck close to Julian—just in case. He swept his strong beam around the bleak interiors of the final three huts.
The last dwelling was L-shaped with a tin roof. It stood away from the other huts as if its original builder had been a loner. “All good,” Julian said. He radioed the coordinators. “Team C reporting from Chinese settlement. No sign of missing person.”
“No one’s had luck,” a voice responded. “Ground search is terminated until morning. Regroup tomorrow at seven a.m.”
“I’ve got clinics,” Julian said. “I can join a team after work if needed.”
Alexa checked the time on her phone: six thirty. A sense of disconnect settled on her like the darkness that had gathered strength. DI Katakana hadn’t asked her to a briefing that surely must be taking place. Ana, Pam, and Shelby were gone. She and Bruce were on the outs. Sunday was her birthday. On the cusp of thirty-eight, and she was alone in the Southern Hemisphere. She didn’t know if she was okay with that. Or not.
“Where’s your car?” Julian asked.
“I don’t have one.”
“I’ll give you a lift then. To be safe.”
The offer hung in the air. They climbed a grassy knoll away from Bush Creek and the creepy huts. As they crossed a car park Julian took off his headlamp and laughed. “So long as home isn’t America. Anywhere between here and Queenstown is fair game.”
Downtown lights twinkled. There were people on the streets. She was suddenly weak with hunger. “I’ve got a date with Arrow Thai.” Alexa had spotted the restaurant near the museum. “Want to join me?”
“Brilliant idea. I ate something so long ago I can’t remember. Always telling my patients not to skip meals, and look at me.”
Alexa did. His face—the parts not covered by a neatly trimmed ginger beard—looked gaunt in an ‘I’m too busy to eat, but healthy’ way. His teeth were white and straight.
“I took over the reins from Joe three years ago, and it’s been nonstop since,” Julian said. “That and this SAR volunteering. My life!”
Married to the job. Helping people in his spare time. She liked the man. “I have a bad feeling about Eileen,” she remarked.
“Me too, but we can’t assume she’s dead. Presumption of death robs searchers of urgency.”
Hunger was Alexa’s urgent need. She felt faint.
Arrow Thai’s indoor tables were full, so after ordering at the counter, they settled at a sidewalk table. Despite the chill, Julian unzipped his orange SAR jumpsuit partway. He popped open his Tui beer and sipped.
Alexa felt on duty, so she stuck with water. Her tongue suddenly tied, but Julian’s persistent questions untangled the knot.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Auckland.”
He laughed. She caught him glancing at her left hand. “Well, I’m from North Carolina. I came to Auckland on a fellowship and never left.”
“A fellowship? What kind?”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. “I taught Forensic Odontology 101: pattern injury recognition, analysis, and comparison. Current methodology and trends. That kind of thing.”
“So what were you doing at the missing woman’s house? Do you work for the police?”
She didn’t mind the questions. She wished she could think of something to ask in return, about gerontology, but what was there? We age, if we’re lucky. Then we die. “I work as a traveling forensic investigator. I support the police.”
“You’re here because Ms. Bowen is missing?”
“I was already in Arrowtown. I’m working with an archaeologist at the cemetery.”
“I went to a service there for a patient. Elliot Meeks. Eighty-two. Complications from diabetes. Why is there a dig?”
She described the exhumed skeletons. “There’s an old Chinese belief that a soul can only be at peace if buried where he was born. Otherwise, it becomes a hungry ghost. The teeth tests I conducted revealed one of the skeletons spent his childhood in southern China.” She knew it was rude, but she checked her phone to see if she had any updates on S2 from Dr. Weiner. Nope. Her phone only had three percent of battery left.
Julian didn’t laugh about the hungry ghosts. Another thing to like about him. “Maybe they lived in one of the huts we just searched,” he said.
The past and present were knocking heads. She looked through the glass. It was hard to reconcile the diners’ smiling faces with the possibility that a convicted murderer might be lurking in the shadows or had abducted Eileen. Her wet boot and sock reminded her that Eileen might have been thrown into the creek. Or the Arrow River. She wiggled her toes and grimaced. “Do you think Earl Hammer is in Arrowtown, and has Ms. Bowen?”
“It’s dodgy, her missing at the same time he is.” He sipped his beer and looked thoughtful. “I had a partner. We lived together, both of us in medical school. She took off. No word. No note. The pressure of school, I think. Maybe Ms. Bowen has done the same.”
A police officer walked by, snug in a bulletproof vest, his eyes scanning the street and businesses. A gust of wind pushed a paper bag across his path, and he stomped on it. Alexa watched as he picked up the trash and disposed of it in a bin. “Did your partner pack her stuff?”
“Yes. And my Xbox.”
Alexa considered the possibility of Eileen being safe somewhere; it didn’t seem likely.
After a waiter served their food, Julian asked, “Ever felt like disappearing?”
She shifted and thought of Abertay University. Dr. Ben Odden wanted her to visit the campus. Maybe talk over a job offer. Charlie would say she was good at disappearing. She stayed mum. Julian studied her but didn’t press for an answer.
They ate with gusto—Julian Getz his tofu and veggies and Alexa her beef curry. The calories jump-started her batteries. She had never informed the police that the coroner was opening an inquest in regard to the skeletons. That was an excuse to stop by the Policing Centre and see what was going on.
She and Julian paid separately. He walked her the two blocks to the center. “Thanks for your help with the search,” he said. He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Ever fancy a drink in Queenstown?”
She mumbled gobbledygook about being busy and was sorry to see him walk off, shoulders drooped from his many responsibilities, she guessed. Or maybe because she hadn’t said yes. She straightened her own shoulders, wished she had a mint, and opened the center door.
The retired DI, Mike Unger, was sitting at the head of a table, watching some kind of meeting on his laptop. “Ms. Glock,” he said.
“Thought I’d check in,” she said.
A cop Alexa didn’t recognize sat catty-corner from him, studying security camera footage on another laptop. It looked like downtown Arrowtown at warp speed.
Unger paused his meeting. He gestured to the other cop. “There are fifteen cameras around downtown,” he said. “So far, Eileen Bowen hasn’t shown up.”
“Neither has Earl Hammer,” the cop said.
Voices came from the back room. The door was cracked open, but Alexa couldn’t see who was in there. Unger gestured her closer. “Look at this.”
Alexa brightened. The retired guy wasn’t shooing her away. She looked over his shoulder. “It’s video of the Arrowtown Primary board meeting yesterday,” he explained. “Full of angry parents.”
He pressed play and turned up the volume. One of twenty or so people sitting in an auditorium got to her feet. It was a woman, maybe forty, her face pinched. “Our son Nick has been bullied by Ian for months. I demand a group session with the parents. Let them hear what the effin’ kid did to Nick.”
The man next to her rose, his eyes blazing. “He’s started the stuttering again, our Nick. After years of getting it under control. You paying for the speech therapy, Ms. Bowen? You gonna suspend that kid?”
Alexa thought of Charlie, fourth grade, hair still blond and curly, refusing to ride the bus. “He’ll get me again,” he had pleaded. Damn bullies.
Her knees almost gave when the camera pivoted to Eileen Bowen, looking calm between two men at the front of the room. Her blazer was unbuttoned, revealing an ivory-colored blouse. She made a motion with her hand, and Alexa saw that her nails were polished red. “Group sessions can actually backfire, giving the child who bullies more power. Our plan is to counsel Nick and Ian separately. We’re taking this matter seriously.”
“I’ll go straight to their house, see that something gets done,” the man raged, “because you don’t have the balls.”
The man sitting to Eileen’s right broke in. “I strongly advise against that. We’ve got a prevention plan…”
The door to the back room opened, and Constable Blume stuck his head out. He looked surprised to see Alexa. “DI Katakana says to turn it down.”
Unger stopped the tape. “The ex-husband is here,” he whispered to Alexa.
Alexa pulled out a chair and sat.
The door was a quarter open. DI Katakana was out of sight. Constable Blume sat down across a table from Paul Bowen, whose back was to Alexa. She heard DI Katakana ask, “So the last time you saw Ms. Bowen was at the Arrowtown Bakery? Was she alone or with someone?”
“Alone, but other people were in the shop.”
“How did she seem?” DI Katakana asked.
“Busy. Highfalutin. The usual.”
The husband wasn’t waxing poetic about his missing ex. Alexa watched his foot jiggle. Constable Blume was busy taking notes, his eyes on his pad.
“Have you seen your ex-wife since?” the DI asked.
“Not since the bakery.”
“You might have forgotten another encounter? Maybe yesterday?”
He scratched his head vigorously. “I didn’t see Eileen yesterday.”
“So the last time you saw or spoke to Ms. Bowen was early May? A Tuesday, you think?” The DI came into view. She stood next to Constable Blume and placed her hands on the table, leaning forward. “And this meeting was happenstance?”
Mr. Bowen edged back. “That’s right. We live in the same small town. Something has happened to her, and this is a waste of time. You should be out looking.”
“It’s not a waste of time if it helps us find her.” She leaned closer to Constable Blume’s notebook and seemed to read from it. Then she looked up. “Were you ever aggressive with your wife, Mr. Bowen?”
“Never.”
“Where were you yesterday afternoon?”
The DI was treating Mr. Bowen as a suspect instead of an ally. Alexa wondered if there was evidence to support this.
“I manage Millhouse Resort.” His voice sounded resigned. “I was filling in for yet another waitperson who didn’t show up for his shift. That’s where I was when the school called.”
“You were married eleven years, right? Did the breakup set you back a few? Misty Tandy said you picked the short stick in the dissolution proceedings.”
The back of Mr. Bowen’s neck colored. “Misty should mind her own business. She’s always been jealous of everything Eileen has. We split the assets evenly. There wasn’t a lot. The house was in her name. ”
