Bone Dust White (11 page)

Carson waits a few seconds, and Jared imagines Carter’s head tilted toward the door expectantly. He’s a shade taller than Jared and several years younger. His blond hair is cut short, making his sharp chin and long nose even more pronounced.

He knocks on the door. “I brought you another shirt.”

Jared splashes his face with cold water, but it does nothing for him. He puts his hand in front of his mouth and blows and whiskey’s sour breath wafts right back in his face. His reflection in the mirror is a confession of sorts; his hooded eyes, bloated complexion, and unshaven cheeks are all evidence. Jared leans against the closed bathroom door and lights a cigarette. His face relaxes after a couple of drags. He blows smoke up at the No Smoking sign. He asks if Hayley’s mother has arrived yet.

“Haven’t seen her,” says Carson, just inches from Jared, leaning on the other side of the door, a mirror image minus the cigarette and hangover. “Lexxie pointed me in your direction. If I didn’t know her better, I’d swear she’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

Jared takes another drag. “What was I thinking?”

“When a woman like Hayley crawls through your window in the middle of the night I imagine
thinking
doesn’t really come into it.”

Jared bangs his head against his side of the door. “Yeah, it’s not like we ever do much talking.”

“I imagine not. So what happened this time?”

“I told her it was over. Brian is going to kill me when he finds out.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Lexxie threatened to tell him everything and this time I think she just might do it.” Jared opens the door and Carson falls inward, holding two cups of coffee.

“Damn, Jared, a little warning.”

Jared watches the locker room swim for a few seconds too long. He puts his hand to the door frame and gulps for air. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was six feet underwater. Carson places the coffee cups on the bench and puts a reassuring hand on his partner’s bare shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, searching for life signs in Jared’s eyes. “Are you in there somewhere?”

Jared blinks. “Whatever Lexxie gave me for my headache is giving me the spins.”

“Why don’t you go lie down,” says Carson, taking hold of Jared and leading him to a cot that sits in the back of the locker room. “I’ll tell dispatch you’re not well enough to work this morning.”

7

Macy stands in the shadow of the open doorway watching Grace Adams. She’s never seen someone sit so still. She’s nothing like the little girl Macy met eleven years ago. Macy remembers a skinny kid who couldn’t stop moving. Grace wore a summer dress a couple sizes too big, and her bangs had been so random, Macy thought she must have taken pinking shears to them. Eleven years on and Grace is the very model of composure. Her pale face is unblemished and her shoulder-length black hair hangs perfectly straight. It’s only when Grace looks up that Macy sees something familiar. The girl’s eyes are still haunted. Macy takes a deep breath and reminds herself to take it slow. Somehow she’s going to have to earn Grace’s trust.

Macy knocks twice. “So who’s Sam?” she says in a voice that is not from Collier.

Not waiting for an answer, Macy closes the door behind her and walks across the floor in her flat black boots. Making an exaggerated groan she leans over and picks up a pink teddy bear with a bandaged forehead from the floor. She turns it over in her hands before placing it on the bed next to Grace. She pokes through the get-well cards on the side table, picking one up and scrutinizing the message on the front cover. All the while she’s observing Grace from the corner of her eye. The girl’s dark eyes follow her every move, but she never once changes her pale expression. Macy decides she looks like a doll.

“There’s an old guy named Sam out there looking for someone named George,” Macy says by way of explanation. With difficulty she settles down in the vacant chair.

Grace stares at her. “Do I know you?”

Macy only says, “Not yet,” before pulling a small notebook from her bag. She takes a pen out of the breast pocket of her blazer.

“Are you a reporter or something?”

“No, but I am something.” She looks directly at Grace. “You haven’t been talking to reporters, have you?”

“No, ma’am. I haven’t been talking to anyone.”

Macy pulls a bifold wallet out of her jacket pocket and flips it open. It’s a man’s wallet and it’s well worn. Macy shows Grace the police badge. Grace reaches out and touches it, running her fingertips along the design stamped into the metal. Macy notes that Grace’s nails are chipped and bitten to the quick. She is not so changed after all.

“Just like in the movies. You see what it says here?” She points to the engraved inscription.

“Detective,” reads Grace. Her eyes widen and Macy notices how she backs away a fraction. “You’re a detective?”

“Yes, I’m a special investigator for the state. My name is Detective Greeley but you can call me Macy.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“I am.”

Grace tilts her head to the side. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m normally down in Helena but I’ve got a nice room at the Collier Motor Lodge I’m calling home for the time being. Have you ever been to Helena?”

Grace lowers her voice. “The hospital there is much nicer than this one.”

Macy doesn’t disagree. Collier County Hospital seems like the sort of place people come to die. “I’ve got a few questions.”

“About what happened?”

Macy flips through her notebook until she finds a blank page. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I met you eleven years ago just after your mother left town. I was investigating the deaths of four young women. They would have been about the age you are now. Are you sure you don’t remember?”

“Did you ever catch the men who killed them?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped trying.”

Grace places her hands palm down on her lap. “Sam was the head janitor here for thirty-three years but he’s retired now.”

“He didn’t seem very retired to me.”

Grace almost smiles. “That’s because he couldn’t stand being away. From what I’ve heard, he practically lives at the hospital now.”

“Is he still the janitor?”

She makes a face. “I think he’s a bit of everything. He helps out whenever they need him.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“Sometimes he gets on your nerves but I think most people are fond of him.”

“Your doctors say you had a panic attack yesterday. They had to sedate you. Are you feeling better now?”

Grace nods.

“You’re sure?”

Grace looks toward the door. “Shouldn’t my aunt be here with me?”

Macy folds her hands on her lap and looks Grace in the eye. “Grace, you’re nearly eighteen.”

Grace focuses straight ahead and grips the bedsheets. “I didn’t know him. The man who attacked my mother, I didn’t know him.”

“We found the car your mother drove. Canadian plates but it’s not registered to her.” Macy has spoken to the Canadian authorities. She’ll make a trip over the border if anything interesting comes up about the owner.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. It just means we have to work a bit harder trying to figure out where she’s been all these years. There is a possibility her return is somehow linked to her murder.”

Grace fidgets with the tubes stuck into her arm.

Macy speaks softly. “Did she say anything?”

“She didn’t say anything important.”

“After eleven years? You’d think she’d have something to say.”

“She said she loved me and she was sorry for being away.”

Macy takes Grace’s hand and squeezes it. “But Grace, that
is
important. Had she been in touch at all?”

“She always sent me money on my birthdays.” Grace presses a tissue to her eyes and rocks back and forth. “It had been so long I didn’t recognize her.”

“There was probably a good reason for her to stay away all these years. Do you remember anything about the night she left?”

“I’ve never understood any of it. I don’t know why she left without me. I don’t understand why she never came back.” Grace’s hands begin to shake.

Before continuing Macy gives Grace a few minutes to calm down. “Did your mother say anything about the man who attacked her?”

Grace stares off into the distance and remains silent.

“Grace,” says Macy, waving a hand in the airspace between them when Grace’s eyes start to droop. “You in there somewhere?” Dr. Gibson had warned her that Grace had a tendency to fall asleep when she was stressed.
There’s nothing really wrong with her,
she said.
We’re sure it’s just a defense mechanism
.

“I don’t like trying to remember,” says Grace.

“Just start by telling me what happened earlier that morning. We’ll slowly work our way toward the difficult part,” says Macy, making notes in neat little rows.

Grace lowers her gaze and speaks in a monotone. She tells Macy that she cleaned up the kitchen after her aunt left for work. “I made breakfast for her. She’s been so busy looking after me I decided it would be nice to do something for her. I usually don’t have much energy in the mornings.”

“Did you hear the garbage truck come?”

“Yeah, but by then I was up in my room getting dressed.”

Macy stops her. “When they found you in the woods you were only wearing a red baby-doll nightie. Why was that? Were you expecting someone?”

“When I went outside I was wearing my kimono. It’s long and it covers everything.”

“Kimono?”

“It belonged to my mother. I like to wear it sometimes.”

Macy makes some notes. “Where is it?”

“Out in the woods; I used it to try to stop the bleeding.”

“It’s out in the woods?”

“I saw the paramedics throw it to one side. There are keys to the back doors and the garden gate in the pocket.”

Macy raises a hand and asks her to hold that thought. She pulls out her cell phone and barks instructions. The woods and the house need to be checked. They should be looking for a key and a silk kimono. She repeats the word “kimono” several times and then spells it for whoever is listening. She also tells them to dust the back gate for fingerprints if they haven’t already.

Macy’s voice is gentle when she speaks again. “Sorry about that, Grace. The missing keys worry me.” She checks her notes. “So, you saw everything from the window up in your room.”

Grace presses her fingertips to her eyes and bends forward. “I’m not sure why I looked out the window.”

“Did you hear something?”

“Maybe. I might have just seen something move. Sometimes we get elk moving along the hillside beyond the back gate.”

“Do you know what time this was?”

“A little after ten, I guess. I wasn’t really keeping track.”

“Who did you see first?”

“My mother. She was walking through the trees real slowly. She was stooped over and looked really old.”

“You didn’t recognize her?”

“I just figured she was a vagrant, living in one of the empty houses in my neighborhood.”

Macy arches an eyebrow. “It’s not really a neighborhood if you don’t have neighbors.”

“Sometimes at night I can see their fires.”

“Well, it’s been cold and they’ve got no place to go.”

“That’s what my aunt says.”

“The police are searching all the houses and clearing them out.”

“They’ll be back.”

“Do you often get homeless coming to the house?”

“Sometimes, but we don’t give them anything. There are too many. My aunt and I volunteer down at the mission instead.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“My aunt is the one who is kind. I just go along because I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“When did you see the man?”

Grace turns away and looks out the window. The whites of her eyes look raw under the lamplight. “He was hard to see at first.”

“Why’s that?”

“He was wearing a camouflage coat. He was practically standing in front of my mother when I first saw him.”

“So he didn’t look homeless.”

“No,” she said, her eyes widening. “He was wearing proper winter gear. His hat had earflaps and his face was covered.”

“Did he wear a ski mask?”

“I think it was black.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Not really, I couldn’t see his face.”

“What about his build?”

“He was tall, possibly stocky, but with the big coat on it’s hard to be sure. He was much taller than my mother. He towered over her.”

“Did he move in any particular way? For instance, did he have a limp?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Was he carrying any flowers?”

Grace places her fingertips to her throat and holds them there. For a few seconds she says nothing. She stutters when she speaks again. “I don’t. I don’t remember anything like that. Why?”

Macy looks at her notes. “It’s just something we found. It may be unrelated.”

“I thought the man and my mother knew each other.” Grace describes how they’d faced each other in the woods. “They might have even said a few words. I’m not sure. It happened so quickly. My mother backed away and started screaming. He went up the hill after her.”

“When did you realize it was your mom?”

Grace looks away again. “When he attacked her she screamed my name. I wasn’t sure at that point but I had to find out.”

“So you went out looking for her?”

Grace says a quiet yes.

“You had no shoes and were only wearing a silk kimono and a baby-doll nightie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You must see how crazy that sounds.”

“I could hear her moaning. I couldn’t just leave her out there on her own.”

“Weren’t you frightened that the man who attacked your mother was still around?”

Grace blinks for the first time. “I saw him disappear over the ridge. He was long gone by the time I went out in the garden.”

“It was still pretty brave to go out there.”

“That’s what Jared said.”

“I interviewed him. He said he spoke to you.”

Graces slips a dark knitted cap between her fingers. “He gave me his hat.”