Bones (56 page)

One of Phil Newly's neighbors had tipped the paper off, saying police were going door-to-door asking questions about whether anyone had seen the lawyer lately, or if they had noticed any cars other than Newly's parked near the house, or in his driveway or garage.

Other phone calls started coming in, including one from Mark. After taking Mark's call, John was pacing, barking out orders--most of the front page would have to be reset.

Inside Phil Newly's garage, the police made a number of gruesome discoveries, including a bloodstained workbench and circular saw, bone fragments, and other tissue. Inside a large freezer in the garage, they found a sheet of plastic covered with frozen blood.

There was no sign of the lawyer.

Frank's lieutenant was on the scene to handle contact with the press, and stated that Mr. Newly was sought for questioning. When asked if the lawyer was suspected of being an accomplice to Nick Parrish, the lieutenant said "not at this time." When asked if Mr. Newly might be one of the victims, he said, "Our investigation here is in its very early stages. We do not know who the victims are or how many victims there may be; we are not ruling out the possibility that Mr. Newly may be one of them." He gave a description of the lawyer and the lawyer's car--a silver BMW. The car was missing.

Mark's contacts within the department revealed other information. Two neighbors had seen a dark-colored Honda coming and going from the residence, although they had not been able to get a good look at the driver. The car had entered by using an automatic garage door opener.

Neither blood nor any signs of a struggle were found inside the house itself.

There were indications that Mr. Newly left the residence voluntarily--his toothbrush, razor, and other personal effects were missing. There were also signs that someone other than Newly--someone with blond hair, perhaps bleached--had been staying in one of the lower-floor guest rooms.

We got as many of these details into the paper as we could before the presses just couldn't be held up any longer. As will happen once a drop-dead deadline has been reached, the newsroom emptied out. John stayed just long enough to allow me to formally introduce him to Ben and to tell me he was still working on getting my hours changed.

"Oh, and, Kelly--this business with the helicopter that I'm hearing rumors of? Not on day shift, should you return. Wrigley's already scared enough of you, without thinking you're going to come in here like something out of Apocalypse Now."

He headed out to try to catch a few hours of sleep.

The nature of the beast; no matter how well we had done this evening, the process of putting a newspaper together would start all over again in the morning.

Still, it was much more excitement than I had expected on my late shift.

Not long after the newsroom emptied, Ben went with me up the stairs to the top of the building. "I tried calling Leonard, to get us into the elevator," I said. "But he must be roaming around the building somewhere."

I explained about the elevator access key. "Needless to say, employees forced to seek psychological counseling for throwing heavy objects at the boss are not given this special key."

"I can manage the stairs," he said. "They're good practice for me." It was lots of practice, all right.

As we reached the final door, Ben said, "That wasn't so bad."

It was another pleasant night. I made myself look up at the Box. Nothing. No lights, no movement, not even the sensation of being watched.

"How can a helicopter land on top of all this mess?" Ben asked, looking at the rooftop structures.

"The landing pad is on the other side," I said. "Come on, I'll show you."

I took him along the perimeter to the helicopter pad.

While we waited for Travis and Stinger to arrive, I gave Ben the full tour. I pointed out several city landmarks that could be seen from the roof, and started to show him my favorite gargoyles. He didn't like leaning over the railing to see them, though, so after I had pointed out the wyvern, and the mermaid that was supposedly modeled after the present Wrigley's grandmother, I told him we could look at the others from the ground.

"That's the intended view, anyway," I said, as we settled in at Cafe Kelly. "Although I have to admit, I wouldn't have suspected you of having a fear of heights--not after seeing you walk steep trails in the mountains."

"I don't mind heights in the mountains," he said. "It's all the flat, sheer vertical surfaces in a city, I suppose. But you don't like being in the mountains, do you?"

I thought about this for a moment and said, "The mountains, I love. It's the people I've encountered up there who've made me feel a little wary about going back."

"Parrish?"

"He's one of them."

"Tell me what happened that morning, before we were rescued."

"Want a bottle of water? You have your choice between that and water. A full selection in our fine establishment."

"Served with an open-faced plate of bullshit, I see. You're avoiding the question."

"For the moment," I agreed. "Listen, here comes the helicopter. Can you hear it?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh.

I got up to turn the landing lights on; Leonard no longer locked that door.

We had a pleasant visit with Travis and Stinger, who hadn't seen much of Ben recently. As usual, though, they didn't stay very long. With promises to get together soon, they took off again. "Travis is a fast learner," Ben said.

"Yes," I said, and started to move back toward the door to the roof.

"Hold on," Ben said, "I haven't forgotten that promise."

"I haven't either," I said. "I just want to be able to watch for Leonard, and for Jerry, the guy who comes up here to smoke. I don't want to spill my guts for everybody on staff. I need to be able to see the door."

I could see that he was irritated, but he went along with it. Before long, he was dogging my heels. I'll own up to sauntering. I was in no hurry to have this conversation.

"Christ, Irene," Ben said, passing me by. "I'm missing the last half of my left leg, and I'm going to reach that door first."

"Don't give me that," I said, "you've been working out. And I read that stuff you had about the Paralympics--someone wearing one of those Flex-Foot feet was within four seconds of beating one of Carl Lewis's records."

"My upper-body strength is much better than before the surgery," he admitted, "but I don't run every day like you do. Besides, much as you might want me to leap tall buildings at a single, artificial bound, we don't all get to be Super Amp, you know."

"Super Amp or not, you're nowhere near your full potential, and you know it," I said. "It hasn't been so long, you know."

"I know," he said, and stopped. He made a little gentlemanly bow when I caught up to him, and said, "After you. Delay all you like. It will not work."

I reached a corner and stopped. "Okay. I can see the door from here."

"Sure you don't want to go and open it?" Ben asked. "Maybe the smoker is on the other side with a parabolic mike."

"Look," I said, "you want to hear the unvarnished truth? I'm not anxious to relive that morning with Parrish. Sometimes I think if I ever see his face again . . ."

I didn't finish the sentence, because the door to the roof opened.

"Shit," Ben said. "I guess you were right about that nicotine fit."

But even with the blond hair, even from a distance, even in the darkness, I knew who had come out onto the roof.

It wasn't Jerry or Leonard.

I pulled Ben back around the corner, nearly throwing him off balance.

"What the--"

I put my hand over his mouth. "Parrish!" I whispered. "Run!"

He looked at me in panic and said, "Where?"

Good question.

** CHAPTER 58

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1:35 A.M.

The Roof of the Wrigley Building

"Back this way!" I whispered, and we quickly ran into the dark and narrow maze of rooftop structures, turning another corner, and another, then hiding behind the air conditioner.

I hoped that Parrish would venture out to the more open end of the roof, so that we could get back to the door.

We heard noises, but it was hard to tell where they were coming from.

"We should split up," Ben said. "There's only one of him. He can't chase both of us."

"Unless he brought his helper." I saw a ladder on a nearby wall, one used for access to the flagpoles. "Wait here," I said. I scurried over to the ladder, climbed up as far as I dared and cautiously peered down into the little alley we had just traveled. Past our alley, but not far away from its entrance, I saw a strange sight, one that took me a moment to comprehend: a single light moving slowly, bobbing several feet above the ground. Then I realized what it was--Parrish had a camper's headlamp on, a flashlight that would allow him to keep his hands free for--for things I didn't want to think about.

I watched just long enough to determine one thing, then hurried back to Ben.

"He's alone, as far as I can tell. He's bound to come down this alley any minute. But I don't think we should split up until we have to."

"Okay," he whispered.

Then the cell phone rang, shrill and loud. It might as well have sent an electric shock through me.

I swore and fumbled to answer it. It rang a second time and Ben took off running again. I could understand his desire to distance himself from a woman who was wearing a homing device for Parrish.

"Whoever you are," I said into the phone as I ran in the opposite direction, "call the police!"

"Irene?" a man's voice said. Familiar, but who was it?

I turned a corner, heard footsteps. I ducked down another narrow alleyway and ran like hell. "Goddamn it, whoever you are, hang up and call the police. Tell them Nick Parrish is on the roof of the Express."

"This is Phil Newly, I'm--"

"Shit!" I said, and hung up.

Wonderful. Satan's minion now knew where to find his boss.

Parrish's headlamp appeared at the other end of the alley.

I turned another corner.

Dead end.

Okay, I thought, okay. Use the cell phone. Call 911, and even if you're dead, maybe they'll get here in time to save Ben.

I called, wondering which police department I'd reach. But the call was routed to the Las Piernas Police.

"Nick Parrish is on the rooftop of the Wrigley Building--"

"Hey, Nicky, you Mama's boy!" Ben called. "Come and get me!"

"Oh, Jesus," I said weakly. "On the rooftop of the Express. Send help!"

I hung up again. I moved forward, not sure what I'd find. No sign of Parrish. No sign of Ben.

I turned the phone on one more time, pressed the programmed button for "Stinger@FE."

I made the call as I continued my way back out of the dead-end alley. "Fremont Enterprises," a sleepy voice answered.

"Pappy?" I whispered.

"Have to speak up," he said.

"Tell Travis and Stinger to come back to the roof," I said and hung up, because I had just seen Ben run past the opening to the alley, and Parrish was not far behind.

I ran until I reached the opening, turned in the direction they had gone, and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Nick Parrish, you little weasel, I can't believe you fell for that dumb trick!"

I heard a small thud, and a light came from behind me. I whirled to see him standing not three feet away from me, grinning. He was standing next to another ladder. He wore a gun in a shoulder holster. That wasn't his weapon of choice, obviously--in his right hand, he was holding a knife with a long, thin blade.

"I didn't fall for any tricks," he said, moving the knife in a lazy figure eight. "You, on the other hand, were stupid enough to run right past me without looking up."

I backed up a few steps.

"You want to run?" he said, holding up the knife. "Of course you do. Especially now that I've killed your little crippled friend."