The Bones Will Speak (25 page)

Wes took another puff of oxygen. “I was following up on a lead.”

“Why don't you let the police do that?”

“Hey, I saved your dog.”

I didn't know whether to thank him again or hit him for being such a jerk. Instead, I spun and headed for Dave, who was bent over Dr. Hawkins.

“Dr. Hawkins.” Dave touched the man on the shoulder. “Dr. Hawkins! I need to ask you something.”

The vet tore his gaze from the burning practice. “I'm sorry. Yes?”

“Ketamine—”

“Did you catch who did it? Maybe they blew up the building!”

“Huh?”

Dr. Hawkins stood. “We had a break-in last month. I reported it myself. Someone took all our Ketamine. Now I'm wondering if this is revenge for calling you.”

Another fire engine arrived, and we moved farther away from the inferno. “I'll look into it.” He looked at me and lowered his voice. “I can't believe you ignored everything I told you and tried to interview that girl. You're suspended until further notice.”

I rocked backward. “But—”

“I don't have time for this and don't want to hear any excuses.” He spun away from me. “And right now I really don't want to even see you.”

I looked at the fire. The killer said I owed him three lives. He'd already tried to kill my dog. Aynslee would be next.

Mattie's hands pounded with a relentless ache, keeping sleep at bay, although she was bone-tired. She crouched next to Aynslee by a rusty green Dumpster. The truck driver had stopped to eat at the Huckleberry Café. They waited until he'd gone in to eat, then jumped out of the truck.

“How far are we from your house?” Mattie asked.

“Too far to walk. We need to get a ride.”

“Like hitchhiking?”

“No. We need to call someone to pick us up.” She nodded at the café. “I could go in and ask to use their phone.”

“Who would you call?”

“Mom or Dad. I'll try Dad first.”

“What if someone else sees you in the café? What if
he
sees you?”

Aynslee frowned. “I think there's a pay phone on the other side, by the road.” She looked around. “We can keep the cars between us and the café. We have to move anyway. It stinks here.”

Crouching down, both girls crept around the building until
they could see the pay phone. They hid behind a cedar, the fragrant boughs providing a needed break from the stench of the Dumpsters. “Give me that purse. I need change,” Aynslee said.

Mattie turned so Aynslee could fish the wallet out of her pocket, then Aynslee raced to the phone.

Mattie's hands now throbbed with every beat of her heart. She shifted from foot to foot, watching for anyone paying attention. One car left the parking lot, but the driver seemed intent on the road.

After what seemed like hours, Aynslee finally returned. “Dad wasn't home and his answering machine is full. Mom must not have her phone with her because she didn't pick up. I can't remember Beth's number, and Dave is at a fire or something and they wouldn't let me talk to him. Now what?”

Mattie looked at her splinted hands. “Now we call someone
I
know. And it's going to cost us.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“HEY, ACE, IT'S ME, MATTIE. THAT IS, CHERRY.”
Aynslee held the phone to Mattie's ear and stood so her body blocked Mattie from the road.

Mattie still felt naked and exposed.

“Whatda you want? I heard you were dead.”

“I'm not. I need a fix. Something strong 'cause I'm in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah, right. You owe me for the last one.”

“I paid you.” Voices and the slam of the restaurant door made her duck. “I've got money,” she whispered. “I need some percs or kickers.”

Silence for a moment. “Thought you were getting off all that. Whatever. I can meet you—”

“No! You have to come here. And you have to drive me and a friend someplace.” She told him her location and where she wanted to go. He hung up after a few parting cuss words.

Mattie moved aside so Aynslee could hang up the phone. “Is he coming?” Aynslee asked.

“Yeah. He's already south of town. He'll be here in about twenty minutes.” The smell from the restaurant made her stomach growl, then made her want to puke.

“Let's move away from the road.” Aynslee pointed. “We could hide behind those trees.”

“Good idea.”

“How are your hands?” Aynslee asked as they trotted toward the trees.

“Bad, but I'm tough,” Mattie said through clenched teeth. They ducked behind the nearest pine. She felt like a rat, slinking around. The forest behind her muttered like an old drunk talking to his paper bag of booze. She nudged the collar up on the stolen coat. She'd never liked the woods. Too many animals.

A van pulled in and parked near where they were hiding. A family piled out. “Loser.” Mattie whispered.

“Why?”

“He's driving a minivan. Loser car.”

“Loser car,” Aynslee repeated. “Cool.”

The father lifted a small blonde girl from the rear seat, gave her a hug, and gently placed her down. “You're the birthday girl, princess, so order anything you want.” He took her hand and led her toward the front.

The lights blurred together. Her broken fingers hurt less than the empty hole in her chest. Why couldn't someone say that to her? Just once. She rocked back and forth slowly.

Aynslee gave her a quick hug. “He'll be here soon. I'm sorry you hurt.”

Hot tears briefly warmed Mattie's face, then chilled to icy lines on her cheeks. “S'okay. No one's ever said ‘I'm sorry' to me before.”

A second car parked, but no one emerged.

Mattie caught her breath.
Ace?

The headlights flashed once.

Her heart pounded faster, making the pain retreat slightly. She jerked her head at Aynslee, checked the parking lot, then hurried to the passenger door. It opened, and she slid onto the warm seat. Her teeth started chattering, and she hunched forward. Aynslee hopped into the backseat.

The car reeked of cigarette smoke, dirty clothes, and body odor. Discarded fast-food containers littered the floorboards. The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts.

“Give me the money or I'm dumping you right now.” Ace had a cigarette dangling from his lip and spoke around the smoke. He stuck out a dirty hand.

She awkwardly removed the wallet from her pocket, but before she could open it, he snatched it from her and lifted the bills. Swiftly counting the money, he grunted, then pulled out a plastic sandwich bag full of pills and tossed it into her lap.

Using both hands, she lifted the baggie to her mouth to open it.

He grabbed the bag and dumped out a small green tablet. “Open.”

She opened her mouth, and he tossed in the pill.

“Swallow it whole. Don't chew it.” He folded the baggie and stuffed it back into his pocket.

She tried to gather enough spit, but the painkiller was like swallowing a boulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, the throbbing ache retreated.

“I kind of like this rescue stuff.” He leaned back and cracked his knuckles, then tossed his cigarette out the window. “Yeah.
How about you giving me a thank-you gift? Maybe both of you.” He reached over and squeezed her leg.

A wave of disgust flooded her. “Don't. Touch. Me!” Her voice was guttural with loathing.

He snatched his hand away like he'd placed it on hot coals. “Fine with me. Just don't come whimpering to me again. Ever. Don't need no gimp to work for me. Plenty of fresh meat out there.” Putting the car into gear, he spun his wheels on the gravel, fishtailed once he hit pavement, and raced down the street.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the blur of trees or flashing white lines. She wanted to pray, but didn't know how. Or to whom.

When they reached town, he slowed.

“Aynslee, we'd better duck out of sight.” Mattie slumped in her seat until only her eyes were above the bottom of the window. Gaudy-colored lights from the downtown businesses danced like a stripper light show on the dashboard. He cranked up the radio, blasting her with heavy metal, and stepped on the gas. The lights disappeared.

“Turn up there,” Aynslee directed. “Now stay on this road for about six miles.”

No one spoke as the asphalt gave way to a graveled county road.

Finally, Aynslee leaned forward and pointed. “Stop there.”

He didn't even bother to look at either of them, just slammed the brakes so hard Mattie flew forward. “It's your funeral. Go turn a few tricks out here.”

They both jumped out.

He revved the engine. Aynslee pulled her aside as he reversed direction and spun his wheels, flinging gravel at them.

Dodging the small rocks, Mattie shot a few more cuss words at him, then stuck out her tongue. Aynslee stared at her.

“What?” Mattie asked.

“My mom would wash my mouth out with soap if I talked like that.”

“Well.” Mattie shrugged. “I don't have a mom. And he deserved it. He's a soggy wooker.”

Aynslee giggled. “What's a soggy wooker?”

Mattie thought for a moment. “I'm not sure. I just like the sound of it.”

“Oh. Mom would call him a scumbag. But I like soggy wooker.” She pointed left. “We're almost there.”

The dirt road stretched in both directions. The trees reached for Mattie on the right, and the splash of a creek reminded her that she still needed to pee.
There's nothing out there in the dark. Just deer and stuff like that. Bambi.

They started walking.

It took almost an hour for me to extract my car from the maze of trucks, people, and emergency vehicles. The car reeked of smoke and dog. Winston panted on the backseat, nervous, ropy drool hanging from his mouth. I'd get him water as soon as I got home.

Beth was going to be steamed at my leaving her at the hospital. Maybe I could do a portrait of her as a thank-you. Or better yet, paint Norman, her husband. I'd better start thinking of paying jobs as well. I was once again officially unemployed.

Beth must have been watching for me. She sprinted out of the hospital lobby and yanked open the car door. “Aynslee's gone!”

I gripped the wheel tighter. “What?”

“Aynslee. And Mattie.”

“How—”

“Open window.”

“Get in.”

Beth jumped into the car. “I tried to tell him—”

I slammed the car into gear. “I'm dropping you off at your house.”

“What's going on? Where have you been?” She looked in the backseat. “Why does your dog smell like smoke?”

“Someone blew up the animal hospital,” I said.

“Oh no, were any dogs hurt?”

“I don't think so.”

Her eyes grew shiny from unshed tears.

“This is twice that the Phineas Priesthood murderer has tried to kill Winston. Once when he called Dave and said my dog attacked Mattie, then today. I need you to take my dog. Norm can look after him—”

“Norm?”

“Tell him I'll clean his fish for a month. I need
you
to call Dave. He's not exactly talking to me at the moment. Tell him about the girls, then tell him Mattie said the killer was after Winston, Aynslee, and me.”

She gasped.

“Tell him about our ideas on tomorrow and possible Columbine-type action. It's a long shot, but worth mentioning. I'm going home in case Aynslee's heading there. If she's not there yet, I'll leave her a note and tell her to stay put and not answer the door for anyone, then I'm going to look for her.”

“Aren't the police looking—”

“If she's with Mattie, which I believe she is, she'll be hiding from everybody. But she knows my car.”

“Where's your cell phone?”

“At the hospital with my drawing supplies. If Aynslee calls you, tell her to stay put and call Dave to pick her up. I'll check in with you.”

“What about calling Robert?”

I pulled up in front of Beth's house and looked at her. “I . . . I think you'd better call him too.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DAVE GULPED THE SCALDING COFFEE, CUPPING
his hands around the plastic cup to garner its warmth. The stench from the burned-out building made his nose twitch. The firefighters seemed to be winning the battle, with just a few areas still burning steadily.

He hoped all the animals inside were freed by Wes.
Wes.
He'd need to talk to the man about why he'd been snooping in Dave's office. And how he got into the animal hospital. There was also Gwen's idea that Wes was responsible for chucking his cell phone into the bushes at the McCandless farm. He looked around. The man was missing.

Dave's right hand burned. Hot coffee coursed through his fingers from his squashed cup. Relaxing his grip, he let the cup drop. It hit on the ground and skidded ahead as the wind lifted it. He chased the cup, snatched it up, and stuffed it in his pocket, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers.

He checked his watch, then tugged out a small notebook.
Dre should be out looking for Wes, but that could keep until after the torchlight parade. He'd have to call in a reserve deputy to guard the charred animal hospital until the state guys could check it out. Maybe ATF should be called because of the explosion. He started writing. He had the sketch on the girl in the cow pasture. He could pull a deputy following up on the wolf attacks to work on the girl's identity tomorrow.

He finished writing and put the notebook away. Spotting Ron on the street directing traffic, Dave jogged over. “I'll have someone relieve you as soon as possible. Head over to the torchlight parade route. The FBI said there was no credible threat from that church, but we can't be too careful. I suspect our problems might come from the people protesting the parade.”