Alone (A Bone Secrets Novel) (17 page)

He knew he shouldn’t poke at people like that, but the professor rubbed him the wrong way.

“Is Brooke improving?” Dr. Peres spoke up.

“She gave everyone a bad scare yesterday,” Lusco answered. “Put her parents and the hospital staff into a panic, but she pulled through. Still not conscious.”

“Any change in her prognosis?” Dr. Rutledge asked.

“No change. Touch and go.”

“The first funeral is later today,” stated Dr. Peres softly. “I’d planned to go until the break-in happened. Lacey is going.”

Mason nodded. “We’ll have police there. In uniform and in plainclothes.”

“Why plainclothes? I’d think the parents would appreciate a blue turnout that’s as big as possible.” The professor’s skin color was back to normal.

“These men will be working. Filming the attendees.”

“Oh. I’ve heard killers will attend their victims’ funerals. Is that what you’re looking for?” Rory tilted his head as he spoke, his gaze intent on Mason.

“The service today is more for the public,” Mason stated, ignoring his question. “It’s not an actual funeral. It’s so the people who didn’t know the girls can give their respects to the family. Actual interment will be private.”

“This case has struck a huge chord with the community. The church will be packed. You’re probably looking at thousands of people,” Dr. Rutledge added. “That’s a lot of faces to look through.”

“I’m kinda hoping the rain keeps some people away,” said Mason.

Victoria gave a half smile. “If Oregonians stayed home when it rained, we’d never get out.”

“Three of the smaller rivers have already spilled over their banks,” Lusco spoke. “I drove through a foot of water not far from my neighborhood. They’ve got roads closed in some of the areas and people are already picking up sandbags.”

“Tired of the rain,” Mason added. He turned back to Dr. Peres. “Will you be able to get an inventory of what’s missing by this evening?”

She nodded. “I think so. Each bone was coded at one point, but a lot of the numbers have faded. Hopefully I can put together something pretty accurate. This was deliberate, you know. The only reason to steal skulls is to try to hide their identity. Nothing tells us more in anthropology. With a skull, I can tell sex, race, and age range, and match dental records. Or even have a forensic sculptor create a likeness from clay or computer images. Full identification from any other bone takes a rare specific incident. Like a broken femur with a matching X-ray. I wish I’d gotten a closer look at the last skeleton.”

“Let me know when you’re done. I want to know exactly what’s missing.” Mason turned to the college professor. “How about we set up a time for you to come talk to us at the office?”

Mason enjoyed watching the color drain from the man’s face again.

Trinity tugged on her hood to protect her face from the rain. She followed in the slow-moving procession of foot traffic outside the memorial at the church, feeling a bit like a cow in a cattle drive and fighting the urge to moo. She’d decided to attend the public service for Glory McCarthy and be thankful that it wasn’t a service for Brooke. Not yet.

When Brooke coded at the hospital yesterday, Trinity thought she was dead. She’d fallen into her foster mom’s arms and bawled like a baby, the stress of the previous forty-eight hours catching up with her. Instead, Brooke had pulled through. But would she ever wake?

Was she going to have brain damage? Would she remember Trinity?

She griped Katy’s hand tighter. Her foster mom had agreed they should attend even though Trinity hadn’t known Glory. They came to show Glory’s family that people cared. And they came to pray for Brooke’s recovery. It felt like half the city of Portland had turned out. They slowly moved into the huge church. It was one of those megachurches. They didn’t have pews; they used folding chairs, and it could hold thousands of worshipers at one time. Trinity pushed back her hood and stared at the huge images of Glory flashing on the screen at the front.

She had the same long dark hair as Brooke, but her eyes were a deep green. Trinity stopped in place as she watched the slide show. Glory and her three siblings, Glory as a baby, Glory and her parents. Trinity felt Katy glance at her. She knew Trinity longed for a tight-knit family.

But right now, Trinity was simply content to be healthy and holding hands with an awesome foster mom. She squeezed Katy’s hand. She didn’t want to trade places with anyone. A rumbling behind her made her realize she was holding up the line, and she looked for a place to sit. The chairs were all full; it was standing room only.

“Let’s go stand over there.” Katy pointed to the right, pulling her that way, and Trinity followed.

A tall figure stood out in the packed masses and made eye contact with her.

Jason.
Her heart gave a mini double
thump
.

Did he go to Glory’s school?

She hadn’t heard from him since his texts about Brooke at the hospital.

Jason was good-looking. There was no getting around it. She’d always thought Brooke was lucky to catch his attention.

He raised a brow at her and smiled. Her heart continued its tiny dance.
He’d acknowledged her!
The kid standing next to him elbowed him in the side. Trinity tried to see who he was standing with, but the other teen wasn’t looking her way. Three more steps and Jason was lost in the crowd. She craned her neck, unsuccessfully searching for him again. The crowd was dense. She and Katy squeezed between groups of mourners, searching for an open spot.

Katy reached a small clearing near the far wall and let out a sigh. “Let’s try here. We can still see pretty good.”

Everywhere Trinity looked, she saw strangers. There were tons of teens, but she didn’t know them. Groups of crying girls and stoic guys. Parents who wiped at their eyes and grandparents with small children on their laps. She suspected most of the people didn’t know Glory nor the other girls. She was witnessing a community in pain, leaning on one another for support.

She noticed the police who stood at the edges of the room. There were several different uniforms. Trinity recognized the Portland police and Multnomah County, but she couldn’t make out the others. A dozen different police precincts were represented. Another sign of the public coming together. Everyone experienced pain when young people died.

“Trinity?” She felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned to see the brown eyes of Dr. Campbell from the medical examiner’s office. “I knew that was you.”

“Hi, Dr. Campbell.”

“Call me Lacey,” the pretty blonde said. She gestured at the tall couple with her. “This is my friend Michael and his fiancée, Jamie.”

The couple smiled, and Trinity tried not to stare at Jamie’s amazing pale green eyes as she introduced them to her foster mom. Michael seemed like an intense type of guy. He had an arm tight around Jamie, but Trinity noticed he often touched Lacey’s shoulder in a sisterly sort of way. Lacey’s eyes were red, the lids puffy. Sorta like 80 percent of the other people around her.

“It’s nice you came, Trinity. How is Brooke doing?” Lacey asked.

“The same,” Trinity whispered. An image of Brooke in her hospital bed filled her mind. Every day she looked thinner and thinner. She was being fed through a tube of some sort, but Trinity didn’t think it was enough. She looked away from the sympathy in Lacey’s eyes.

“I can’t stand this,” muttered Michael. “Children shouldn’t die before their parents.” Jamie nodded and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

His words struck a chord with Trinity. Was anything more true? Parents shouldn’t bury their children; it should be the other way around. That was how life was intended to be. Yet, her own mother had walked away from raising her daughter. How does a mother do that? Didn’t it go against their chemical makeup?

In therapy she’d learned her mother was mentally ill. Drugs and alcohol made her problem worse. She understood why her mother had acted as she had, but that didn’t make it hurt less. Her grandmother was also an alcoholic. Trinity’s therapist and she had spent hours discussing whether alcohol would be an issue for her.

“It’s easy to say ‘I’ll never drink,’ but harder to achieve it and stick to it,” her doctor had said. “You must be hyperaware that you might be susceptible to an addiction. Millions of people have no issue with alcohol, but some appear to be predisposed
to addiction. And it’s showing its ugly face in your mother and grandmother. You need to learn from what you’ve seen. Many addicts don’t have the luxury of this strong warning.”

Trinity swore to heed that warning. She would never be her mother.

The service started. Next to her, Katy frequently wiped at her eyes. Trinity felt her phone vibrate in her coat pocket. Unable to ignore it, she pulled it out.

I’m already addicted to something. My phone. Not good.

It was a text from Jason. Heart speeding up, she opened the message.

WHAT
’
S THE WORD ON B?

Unable to help herself, she tapped out a reply.
NO CHANGE. HAD A SCARE YESTERDAY BUT SHE MADE IT.

She waited. No reply. Feeling disappointed, she slipped the phone back in her pocket and tried to listen. Glory’s uncle was speaking, but Trinity couldn’t focus on his words. The pictures of Glory’s family sucked up her attention. A big family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, tons of cousins. What was it like to grow up with so many people who care about you?

Murmurs started near the back of the church. Trinity tried to ignore it, but they grew louder. Katy craned her head to look past Trinity in the direction of the noise, a frown on her face. Voices escalated and more heads turned to look. Trinity couldn’t see. It came from the dense crowd standing near the main doors.

Voices grew to shouts and people started moving. Glory’s uncle stopped talking.

Katy grabbed her hand and Trinity heard Michael swear under his breath. A half-dozen men yelled, and Trinity saw people start shoving.

Did someone just throw a punch?

Michael’s hand landed on her shoulder and gave her a firm push. “We’re getting out of here. Go. Now!” He thrust Jamie in the direction of a side door and pulled Lacey after him. Lacey tugged at Trinity’s sleeve, and she followed.

“Follow him,” Katy commanded. Trinity pushed between the other mourners. All focus was on the rowdy crowd in the back. Police bulldozed past her, heading toward the riot. One woman slammed her shoulder against Trinity’s, trying to move toward the fighting group.

“Sorry!” Trinity shouted at the passing woman’s back.

Katy gripped Trinity’s shoulders, pushed and steered her after Michael. “Don’t stop!”

A riot in a church?

Panic rose in her throat as more people pressed against her. Trinity felt like she was swimming upstream. She kept her gaze on Michael’s back and pressed on. He shoved open the side door and the group spilled out into the gray rain. More people sped out behind them.

“What happened? What was going on in there?” she blurted, gasping for air.

Michael hustled them to a semidry spot under a tree. “Everyone okay?”

The other three women looked as rattled as Trinity felt.

“I don’t know what happened, but a group of teenage boys started it. As soon as they started pushing and punching, I was getting us out of there,” Michael stated, his eyes grim. “That was too close of quarters for a fight. They can get out of hand fast.”

“But that wasn’t a bar,” Lacey exclaimed. “That was a church! A memorial service! What the hell happened in there?”

“I wasn’t waiting to find out.”

A gunshot echoed from the church.

“To the truck! Now!” Michael commanded. He pointed, grabbed Jamie’s hand, and ran. Trinity caught a frantic look from Jamie and ran after them, bent over in imitation of Michael. She heard Lacey and Katy’s pounding footsteps directly behind her, splashing in the puddles.

“Go, go, go!” Katy yelled behind her.

A gun?

Trinity ran.

Seth blinked and squinted at the computer screen in the medical examiner’s office, but the webpage still said the same thing.

Sixty-eight percent.