The Bones Will Speak (32 page)

“Yum.” Dave selected one and took a bite.

“I made 'em myself.” Mattie beamed. “Gwen's teaching me to cook.”

Aynslee put her hand over her mouth and rolled her eyes.

Dave's face paled and he quickly strolled outside.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mattie asked, frowning.

“Oh, no. Dave just needed . . . to check out the sign. Out front.” I poured Dave an iced tea and followed him outside. I found him near the lilac bushes, spitting cookie into the grass. “Want this?” I handed him the iced tea.

He took a long, grateful swallow. “I see she's learned your cooking ability.”

“Don't be mean, Dave. Sugar and salt look alike, and her reading skills are marginal.”

Dave took another long swig, then nodded at the bushes. “Something I wanted to ask you. How did you know the dogs were trained to chase lilac scent?”

I shrugged. “I didn't, not for sure. I prayed I was right. Hawkins had one victim escape, the boy in Spokane that I tried to do a composite with. Hawkins didn't want to lose another, so he bought those two dogs to track down his victims should they get away from him.”

“And I suppose dogs can be trained to any scent.”

“He was very clever in his choice of tracking odor. He needed something that wouldn't be noticed during training. All the slaughtered animals we thought wolves chewed up were killed in the spring, when lilacs bloom. I remembered smelling lilac when I found Mattie in the house.”

“The beefalo calf was killed near a lilac bush.”

“Right. I guessed it might be the tracking scent when I smelled lilac on the coat he gave Mattie.”

“He probably gave the girl in the cow pasture a coat as well,” Dave said.

“Aynslee later told me she threw away the bouquet of lilacs in Mattie's hospital room when Mattie told her it was from
him
.”

I stared at my dirty sneaker for a moment. “He took a big risk, using perfume like that. The flowering bushes and women's perfumes—”

“Hawkins liked to give away clues, thought he was so clever that way. He started his killing spree in Spokane. Spokane's nickname is the Lilac City.”

A small shiver went through me. “I didn't know that. He did use a Hudson's Bay blanket, and if you think about it, he came right out and said it was a single wolf doing the killing. In the cow pasture, he said ‘single wolf.' Lone wolf. Him.”

Dave took another sip of his iced tea. “Speaking of wolves and dogs . . .”

As if on cue, Winston sauntered across the yard, a large bone in his mouth.

I glanced at Dave.

His eyes opened wide. “Is that human—”

“Cow. From the grocery store.” I grinned. “Got ya on that one!”

Dave watched my dog flop in the shade of a pine tree. “I don't see how a sociopath like him could have finished his veterinary degree and been such a successful businessman.”

“Beth and I talked about it. She looked it up—”

“Of course.”

“She said in our society, many of the traits of sociopaths are now considered positive business practices. For example, manipulation and no concern for others. His bio said he donated time to help others who couldn't afford a vet. That didn't sound like a sociopath, until I realized that's how he found his victims.”

“Speaking of victims,” Dave said. “The two bodies in the grave have been identified, although not yet released. Your sketches helped on the one woman.”

“Did the other woman—”

“Yes, she looked like Aynslee. Like Mattie, both were high-risk victims, and both had medical conditions: one woman had scoliosis, the other a club foot.”

I sighed. “Just like Hitler, killing or sterilizing people he felt were inferior. The deformity of Hawkins's spirit was far greater that the deformities of his victims.”

Dave nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Both the FBI and the Jewish Community Center are keeping quiet about Hawkins's plan.”

“Makes sense. It didn't happen, and he's dead. Don't need to encourage any copycats.”

“Right. But I was asked to give you this.” He held up a challenge coin. “And this.” He handed me an envelope with some cash in it. “It's not much, but it might buy you a new dress and dinner on the town.”

Before I could formulate an answer, Beth pulled into the driveway and parked next to us. She stepped from the car, looking fresh and summery with white slacks and a sleeveless peach blouse. I waved at her and smoothed my paint-smeared T-shirt.

“Are you ready?” She frowned at my attire.

“As I'll ever be. Thanks for the moral support.”

The three of us strolled back into the house.

“I have another woman who wants to join your women's Bible study,” Beth said. “But the pastor wants to talk to you about the title of your new series.”

“I thought it quite clever,” I said. “ ‘The Bible Is Full of Lies.' ”

“Yes. Um, I know you're referring to signs of deception described in the Scriptures and comparing it to law enforcement books, but the title might be a bit misleading.”

“Oh. Okay. I'll give him a call.”

The girls were still at the table. “. . . so I said he was a soggy wooker,” Mattie was saying.

“What's a soggy wooker?” Beth asked.

“I just liked the way it sounded, but Aynslee looked it up.” Mattie grinned.

“It comes from the
Star Wars
movies,” Aynslee said. “From the Wookies, which are hairy. A soggy wooker is the hair caught in a sink drain. Icky.”

“I see.” Beth rolled her lips to keep from smiling.

“
I
looked that up.” Mattie proudly pointed at the Scripture verse Beth had given me, now back on the refrigerator. “Colossians 3:13. I memorized it. ‘Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.' ” She lifted her bent and twisted fingers and studied them. “I'm working on it,” she whispered.

My eyes blurred and I turned toward the sink, but not before I noticed Beth pulling out a hankie.

The crunch of gravel announced another vehicle pulling up next to the house. The slam of car doors, followed by footsteps, made all of us turn to the kitchen door.

Robert.

“I see everyone's here,” he said through the screen. “May I come in?”

“Dad!” Aynslee raced to let him in, then threw herself into his arms.

“Hi, angel.” Robert spun her around, then keeping his arm around her, he nodded to Beth and Dave. “I see there's a Sold sign out front,” he said to me.

“Yes.” I tugged again at my T-shirt. Why hadn't I changed into something nicer? “I couldn't live here anymore with all that happened. The new house will be done soon. And . . . thank you for taking the girls for the next couple of months.”

“My pleasure.” Robert gave Aynslee another hug. Mattie slipped closer, and Robert casually slipped his arm around her shoulder. The girl beamed.

“How are you going to fit both of us and our luggage into your Porsche?” Aynslee crossed to the window and peered out. “Wait a minute. Did you buy a van?” She glanced at Mattie, and both girls burst into giggles.

“Loser car,” Mattie managed to get out.

“Well then . . .” I cleared my throat. “Girls, you'd better go get your suitcases.”

Aynslee dashed from the room, still laughing. Mattie lingered by the fridge.

I grinned at Robert. “You traded in your Porsche—”

“Yes, well, my life is changing. Ah . . .” Robert moved to the door. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.” He opened the door, and a strikingly beautiful woman stepped through. “Gwen, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Caroline.”

The room became deathly silent. Everyone stared at me.

I wiped my sweaty hand on my jeans, then looked at the refrigerator. Beth's magnetic sign hung at a slight angle.

Mattie grinned at me.

I handed Mattie the envelope of cash, turned to the woman, smiled, and held out my hand. “So very nice to meet you, Caroline.”

AUTHOR NOTE

I'D ORIGINALLY WRITTEN THIS BOOK ABOUT
A serial killer based on my work on the Robert Lee Yates case in Spokane, Washington. At the suggestion of my editor at Thomas Nelson, I added the Christian Identity layer. They liked the religious angle to the forensics, and for me, it was really a no-brainer which group to write about. Richard Butler's Aryan Nations compound was about forty minutes from my home. I was one of the courtroom artists when the Southern Poverty Law Center, with attorney Morris Dees, brought a civil suit against the Church of Jesus Christ, Aryan Nations. I'd have to add that this group shot my dad, then the director of the North Idaho Regional Crime Lab, and wounded him. The Phineas Priesthood group, also part of the Christian Identity movement, had a cell in Spokane in the mid-1990s. Working with the FBI, ATF, city and county of Spokane, I drew sixteen composite sketches to help identify them. In an unusual turn of events, I
got to see them in person when a television news station hired me as a courtroom artist. For a complete bibliography of books I referenced while writing this, check out my web page:
WWW.CARRIESTUARTPARKS.COM

READING GROUP GUIDE

1. The story covers a particular belief system, Christian Identity, and one of the offshoots of this, the Phineas Priesthood. Had you heard of this before? If so, where?

2. How does the Phineas Priesthood justify their beliefs? Are they unique in this?

3. In chapter 3, we start to meet Gwen's former husband, Robert, and by chapter 16, Beth is urging Gwen to forgive him, which is the theme of the book. Does she forgive him? How do you know? Does she need to forgive anyone else? Have you had to forgive someone who has hurt you badly?

4. Revenge is the opposite of forgiveness. Who else is seeking revenge?

5. In chapter 17, Gwen empties the contents of Robert's desk: a lined notepad, an empty tissue box, a broken stapler, a crumpled piece of paper with a list of every terrible thing
he'd ever said or done to her, a writer's magazine featuring Robert on the cover, and a squirt gun. Could these items represent her life? What six items could represent yours?

6. Robert's office goes through three changes in the book. What are the three changes, and how do they parallel Gwen's changes?

7. Gwen loses her job by exceeding her role as forensic artist. What were her stakes? Would you have done the same given her circumstances?

8. The color pink to Gwen represents overcoming adversity. What adversity did she overcome? What would represent overcoming adversity in your life?

9. Aynslee is self-centered at the start of the story. Does she change? What makes her change?

10. Beth is a friend, sidekick, and wise mentor to Gwen. Do you have someone like her in your life?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ONCE AGAIN I'D LIKE TO THANK THE WHOLE
world, but I've learned a certain amount of restraint over the years. I must always start with the Perettis. Frank and Barb, you both believed in me from the start. To my husband, Rick, I love you for all your help. No, I really don't care to hear about the Sharks' chance for the Stanley Cup. Again. A grateful and appreciative thank-you to my agent, Terry Burns of Hartline Literary Agency. A big thank-you to Amanda Bostic, Editorial Director, and Natalie Hanemann for your spot-on editing, and to Jodi Hughes for your polishing of the manuscript. Thank you, Kerri Potts, Senior Marketing Associate, for your work on getting this in front of the readers.

I wish to send out a great big hug and thanks to the folks who helped with this story, some of you without even knowing how much you helped. Dave and Andrea Kramer, Aynslee Stuart, and the rest of my great family. Scott, you made it. Thanks to all my forensic students and friends in law enforcement for providing suggestions from your vast pool of knowledge, with a special
thanks to Detective Dave Prichard, CCA, Las Vegas Metro Police Sex Crimes Division; Sylvia Stone, Montana State Crime Lab, Missoula; Debs Laird, West Monroe Police Department, Louisiana; Heath Migliore, CFA. Hugs and thanks to very much alive Detective Margie Sheehan, CFA, Special Victims Detail, Orange County Sheriff's Office, California; and Mike Higgins, CFA, Orange County Sheriff's Academy.

The hospital thanks go to Shoshone Medical Center, Kellogg, Idaho, and Nancy Rahn Peacock, Gary Moore, and Jerry Brantz.

Thank you, my dear friends Kerry Kern Woods, Michelle Garlock, and everyone else who provided much needed insight as beta readers. A special thanks to Kelly Mortimer for all her help.

Thank you to Rogie and Papa, as well as all my beloved Great Pyrenees over the years for providing the template for Winston.

Mom and Dad, you were such inspirations. I miss you every day.

Finally, and most importantly, thank you to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. To You goes all glory, and honor, and praise.

C
ARRIE
S
TUART
P
ARKS
P
HIL
. 4:8–9