Authors: Rhys Bowen
Evan's Gate (18 page)
“Yes, I agree, it is dragging on, isn’t it?” Watkins said. “It’s a bugger. I don’t think we’ll sit here holding our breath to hear back from Interpol or NCIS or whoever they are. I’ll get Evans to drive
me to London tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can sniff out where Johnny boy might have gone.”
me to London tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can sniff out where Johnny boy might have gone.”
“You and Evans, sir?” Glynis looked disappointed.
Watkins grinned. “Constable Davies, I know you’re the senior constable, but my wife would never understand if I went on a jaunt to London with someone who looked like you. Besides, you’re the only one who—”
“I know, who can operate the computer.”
“I was going to say hold the fort. Indispensable.”
“Oh, right,” she said, giving him a sideways smile. “If you lay it on thick enough, I’ll begin to believe it myself.”
Watkins pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table. “So I take it there’s no news come in overnight?”
“A few more sightings, sir,” Glynis said. “I’ll start working on those right away, if you like.”
“And I stopped off on my way here to check the records on the Bosley-Thomas case,” Evan said. “It doesn’t seem they did very much, apart from search for her. They were sure she’d wandered off and met with an accident. They haven’t even kept a list of people they interviewed, so we’ve no way of telling if there were any known child molesters in the area at that time.”
“I don’t remember authorizing a records check,” Watkins said, looking up sharply at Evan.
“No sir, but I just thought it might be helpful to be one jump ahead, rather than sitting here waiting for the phone to ring.”
“Evans, if I want you to be one jump ahead, I’ll tell you.”
Evan felt his face becoming uncomfortably hot. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I do mind. I’m running the show around here, and I decide what line of investigation we’re taking, not you. I’ve already made it clear that we eliminate Sholokhov before we look for other suspects. We’re going to London tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll come back wiser than we left.”
“So you’re not going to follow up on the Thomases before they leave the area?”
“We saw the Thomases yesterday. I’m not convinced that there’s anything to follow up. We have the numbers to contact them, if we need to.”
“But, sir, isn’t there an element of time involved here?” The words came out before Evan had time to consider whether pursuing this was wise. “I mean, in the remote possibility that one of them had taken Ashley?”
“I don’t mean to be blunt, Evans, but if one of them had taken Ashley, then she’s already dead and buried. Now let’s get down to today’s schedule. Davies, you’re following up on those latest sightings. Evans”—he paused and glanced up—“someone needs to be there for the meeting with the forensic anthropologist. I can do without you for a couple of hours, I suppose.”
Evan tried not to smile. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
Evan was not too familiar with the University of Wales at Bangor. He always felt uneasy in university situations, having not attended one himself. Those young people who surged out of buildings in great, noisy groups always seemed so confident and at ease, as if this sort of life was their due and right. He never passed among them without a pang of resentment that he hadn’t sampled those years of freedom and exploration and gained the sort of knowledge that Bronwen tossed out so effortlessly. Nietzsche? Bach? Freud? No problem. All stored somewhere in the brain.He had to ask twice before he found the modern square block, well away from the ornate Victorian buildings he had always thought of as the university. He was directed up a flight of concrete stairs, then thought he might have made a mistake and entered a cold storage room. The room was even cooler than the brisk wind outside.
“Hi, there.” Dr. Jan Telesky was standing at the far end in a white lab coat in the process of arranging a row of glass dishes. “Come on in,” she said. “I’m glad it’s you.”
It took Evan a moment to realize that the skeleton lay between them on a stainless steel gurney. He started visibly. Now that it
was out of its grave, cleaned and rearranged with every bone in place, he was amazed how very small it was, how very delicate the bones were.
was out of its grave, cleaned and rearranged with every bone in place, he was amazed how very small it was, how very delicate the bones were.
“Are the Thomases here yet?” he asked, wrenching his eyes from the table.
“No, they won’t be here for another half hour or so.” There was something in her gaze that was challenging. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I’ve got some brewing in my office—real American coffee, not the weak stuff they serve here.”
“All right. Thanks.” Anything to get out of this room and away from that table.
“This way then.” She led him through a back door to a bright, neat office. Sun shone in through large windows with a view of the Menai Straits between houses. “Sit down. Make yourself at home.”
She smiled at him and he sank onto the stainless steel and plastic chair beside her desk.
“I was hoping they’d send you,” she said, pouring coffee into two handmade pottery mugs. “I asked them to.”
“Yes, you were right. One of us should definitely be present when they identify the remains,” he said.
“Not one of you. You. I asked for you.”
“Because I’d known her. I might remember something important.”
“No, because I wanted an excuse to meet you again.” She noted his look of confusion and laughed. “I’m obviously being too forward, but I’m American. We’re taught to be pushy broads.”
She put the mug in front of him. “I suppose, being British, you’ll want cream and sugar?”
“If it’s all right.”
“No problem.” She produced a canister of sugar and one of nondairy creamer from a cupboard and put them beside him with a plastic spoon. “Help yourself.”
Evan took one look at the nondairy creamer and tried to conceal the shudder. “Thanks. Cheers.”
“Explain that to me,” she said. “Don’t you say ‘cheers’ when
you’re drinking? But surely not when you’re drinking coffee?”
you’re drinking? But surely not when you’re drinking coffee?”
Evan laughed. “It’s come to mean about the same as thanks these days. ‘Thanks’ or ‘cheers.’ Same thing really.”
“Ah. It’s quite a challenge.” She pulled up a stool beside him and sat, crossing her long legs so that one toe almost brushed his trousers. “Not only do I have to master the British form of English, but half the people here speak goddamned Welsh. I suppose you do, don’t you?”
“Yes, it’s my first language actually. I grew up speaking it.”
“I’ll never learn it. I tried a couple of classes, but my tongue won’t go around those sounds. Too much like spitting to me.” She laughed and Evan smiled too, but his brain was trying to interpret the messages she was sending him. Was she making a play for him, or was this the American version of being friendly? He didn’t have to ponder the question for long before she said, “I noticed you weren’t wearing a ring. Does that mean you’re not married?”
“Most men don’t wear rings over here,” Evan said, “but no, I’m not.”
“That’s good to know.” Her face lit up in a smile before he could finish his sentence.
“I’m engaged, actually,” he said. “We’re getting married in August.”
“No problem,” she said again, smiling at his discomfort. “I’m sure she’d understand if you took pity on a lonely American girl. I’m just starved for young male company, really. I’ve been here two months and most of my colleagues are older than the hills and boring as hell, and I’m not allowed per contract to date students, so here I am stuck in the middle, dying of boredom.”
“I’d be happy to show you around someday when I’m not working,” Evan said cautiously.
“Great! What you guys call a pub crawl Saturday night?”
“I was thinking more of a hike up one of the mountains.”
“A hike? Jesus, you are all so fit and outdoorsy here. I usually go in more for indoor sports.”
“Indoor sports?”
“I guess I hadn’t considered that a sabbatical year might also mean a sex-free year,” she said, making Evan choke on his coffee. So he hadn’t been misreading the signals.
“Do you have a boyfriend at home?” he asked.
“Yeah, but that’s three thousand miles away. I’m here now and he understands that.”
“I could introduce you to some of our unmarried policemen if you’d like.”
“God, aren’t most policemen thicker than planks?”
“I’m a pretty average policeman.”
“But you’re a detective, so you must be one of the smart ones.”
“Please, Dr. Telesky—”
“It’s Jan.”
“Look, Jan. I’m here on official business, and I think we’d better keep it that way, if you don’t mind. If the Thomases are coming in half an hour, maybe you should be briefing me on what you’ve discovered so far.”
“Okay, if you insist.” She gave a dramatic sigh and pushed a strand of long hair back from her face. “I’ve managed to locate a botanist who was able to interpret the plant rings on the root that went through her foot. We’re right on the time frame—between twenty and thirty years. He could be more accurate if he has to.”
“Anything more?”
“It was either a little girl or a boy with exceptionally long hair. We recovered a couple of strands of long, blonde hair.”
Evan swallowed. “Yes, she had long, blonde hair.”
“And we’ve got a couple of fiber scraps and the shoes in good enough condition to be identified. I’m hoping the mother will be bringing dental records; otherwise we’d have to go ahead with the DNA sample to make sure.”
“But you can’t say—how she died?”
“Not through any kind of violent trauma, that’s for sure. No broken bones or cracked skull. But of course there are plenty of ways to kill a kid that don’t break bones.”
Again he was startled by the easy way she said it.
He drained his coffee cup. “Right, then. Thanks for the coffee. It hit the spot.”
“Hit the spot. I just love your quaint expressions. What spot is that exactly?” Her eyes teased him with double meaning, making him get to his feet and put on a businesslike expression. “Will they phone through to you when the Thomases arrive or should we go to the lab to wait for them?”
“I’m making you nervous, am I?”
“To be frank with you, a little.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to seduce you.”
“I’m not about to be seduced—and I’m not worried.”
She looked at Evan and laughed. “You should see your face. It’s as if you were in a room with a tiger. I’m looking for company, Evan, nothing more.”
The sound of voices echoed up the stairwell. “Oh, it sounds like the Thomases have arrived,” Evan said with relief in his voice, and opened the door to greet them.
“Oh, there you are, Evans,” Hugh Thomas called up the stairs to him. “Good. We are in the right place then.” He noticed Jan Telesky standing beside Evan. “And would you be an angel and please tell your professor that we’ve arrived and maybe find a cup of tea for Mrs. Thomas? This is all very upsetting for her.”
Evan glanced at Jan’s face with anticipation.
She was wearing a frozen smile. “I am Dr. Telesky, visiting professor of forensic anthropology. And you are?”
Evan had to admit that Hugh handled it perfectly. “Good heavens! Are you really? I must apologize, but you look so young I thought you had to be a student. I’m Hugh Bosley-Thomas, the child’s father.”
“Apology accepted, Mr. Bosley-Thomas. This way please.” She pushed open the lab door and held it as they filed in, one by one. “Are you all family members?” she asked.
“All of us,” Henry said, as he passed her. “I’m Sarah’s brother, Henry. My mother and father and my sister, Suzanne. These gentlemen
are cousins, Val and Nick Thomas. My grandfather chose not to come today. He apologizes but he says his eyesight is poor and he’d have been no use anyway.”
are cousins, Val and Nick Thomas. My grandfather chose not to come today. He apologizes but he says his eyesight is poor and he’d have been no use anyway.”
Evan recognized Sarah’s mother and was horrified at how old and drawn she looked, her face almost like a living skull itself. She was holding onto Henry’s arm as she went through into the room, and Evan heard the half-stifled cry as she saw the skeleton.
“Oh, no. My Sarah!” she exclaimed.
“We don’t even know that it’s her yet, Mother,” Henry said.
“It is her. I know it,” Mrs. Thomas said. “Look at the way her front teeth stick out. Remember how we always told her she’d have buck teeth if she kept on sucking her thumb, and Daddy used to paint that bitter-tasting stuff on her thumb before she went to bed?”
“Did you bring any dental records, Mrs. Bosley-Thomas?” Jan Telesky asked.
“She didn’t have any. She still had her baby teeth. She’d never even seen a dentist.”
“Had she lost any of her baby teeth?”
“No, but one of the lower teeth was wobbly. She was very excited that it was going to fall out soon.”
Dr. Telesky went over to the skeleton, put on a latex glove, and touched the teeth. One of them moved as she manipulated it. She looked up at Sarah’s mother and nodded.
“And you brought photos like I asked you?”
Mrs. Bosley-Thomas fumbled with a portfolio. “They’re in here,” she said. “I brought a whole lot of them, just in case.”
Dr. Telesky took the pile of photos and spread them out on a counter. There was complete silence in the room as she examined them. Evan tried to look over her shoulder and was shocked at the stab of pain he felt as he saw Sarah smiling back at him with that wicked, impish smile.
“And we have retrieved some scraps of clothing,” Jan Telesky said, moving to the row of glass dishes along the counter. “Do
you happen to remember what she was wearing the day she disappeared?”
you happen to remember what she was wearing the day she disappeared?”
“Of course I do.” Mrs. Bosley-Thomas’s voice was high and tight. “She was wearing a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a flowery red skirt, white tennis shoes and socks. And she had her hair tied back in red ribbons. She said it got in her face, and she couldn’t play the game when it was blowing around.” She put her hand to her mouth again and turned away from the group.
“The T-shirt would have been cotton, and cotton just doesn’t hold up long term,” Dr. Telesky said, “but was the skirt a man-made fiber?”
“Yes, it was. Sarah liked soft wispy fabrics.”
“We’ve recovered a couple of samples large enough to see traces of a pattern. Of course it’s more dirty brown than red these days, but would you take a look?”
Henry led his mother over to the glass dishes. She stared for a moment. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” she said. “I know it was a flowery pattern, but I can’t really see enough of it.”
“And the shoes? Were they man-made, too?”
Mrs. Bosley-Thomas frowned in concentration. “I can picture them,” she said. “Little white trainers with flower shapes cut out of the toe. She loved those shoes.” And for a moment she smiled.
“Then would you look in here?”
Mrs. Bosley-Thomas stared at the dish. “I’m afraid it’s hard to tell again. I suppose these were white once. And that does look like the kind of sole they had. I don’t see the little flower shape … .”
Other books
Demon Retribution (Shadow Quest Book 3) by Kiersten Fay
The Mighty Quinn by Robyn Parnell
Secret Girls' Stuff by Margaret Clark
State of Grace by Hilary Badger
Final Appeal by Scottoline, Lisa
The Irregulars by Jennet Conant
Guilty Minds by Joseph Finder
I Am Juliet by Jackie French
Angel's Advocate by Stanton, Mary
