Flash and Bones

centered in the occipital bones.

I’d recognized the earrings instantly upon seeing them in the screen. Small silver loops with race cars dangling from one edge.

I pictured the little oval face. The pixie blond hair.

Push it away.

You didn’t kill her, I said silently to Cale Lovette. You probably tried to save her.

I’d supervised the excavation, done preliminary bio-profiles on the skeletons. Then Slidell had taken charge of the scene.

I watched him emerge from the trees now. He conferred with Williams, then turned and walked in my direction.

Hitching a pant leg, Slidell squatted next to the car, one hand on the open door’s armrest. His face was raspberry, and perspiration soaked his hair and armpits.

“Not the outcome we were looking for.” Slidell’s voice was a bit husky.

I said nothing.

Slidell reached behind his back and yanked a hankie from his pocket. His palm left a small saddle of perspiration on the vinyl armrest.

“You find anything down there with them?” he asked.

“Her earrings. Zippers. Some moldy shreds of clothing.”

“Shoes?”

“No.”

Slidell shook his head.

“You think they were killed here?” I asked.

“Hard to say. They could have been forced to take off their shoes. Or their bodies could have been transported from somewhere else.”

“They pick up anything with the metal detector?”

“Nothing useful.” He knew I was asking about bullets or casings.

Behind Slidell, I could see two attendants carrying a stretcher. Together, they transferred both body bags to the morgue gurney and buckled the black straps.

When I looked back, Slidell was studying my face.

“Can I get you something? More water?”

“I’m good.” I swallowed. “Did Winge do it?”

“Dumb-ass keeps mumbling he’s sorry. Over and over. Sounds like a confession to me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been able to understand how these mutants think. But trust me. We’ll get everything he knows out of him.”

The heat in the car was like hot syrup against my skin. I got out and lifted my hair to feel the breeze on my neck. There was none.

I watched the morgue attendants slam and secure the van doors.

And felt a sob build in my chest. Fought it back.

I spotted Williams walking toward us. He says one thing to me and I’ll rip his goddamn lips off, I promised myself. I meant it.

Williams spoke to Slidell. “We about done here?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Winge?”

“Being booked.”

For a few moments the three of us stood in self-conscious silence. Sensing strong emotion, the men didn’t know how to act, what to say. I didn’t feel like helping them out.

Avoiding my eyes, Slidell addressed Williams. “Meet me downtown. We’ll grill this cocksucker.”

On the drive home, my eyes burned and my chest heaved intermittently.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

Somehow, I didn’t.

A bubble bath and a change of clothes did wonders for my body.

My spirits remained in the cellar.

Slidell’s visit did nothing to lift them. Maybe it was his BO. More likely his report on Grady Winge.

“The prick’s stonewalling.”