Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller

by V. J. Chambers

  You are losing it, Wren, she scolded herself.

  “It’s not that he’s not reliable,” said Gloria. “It’s just that he’s always focused on so much, and he’s all over the place.” She laughed, but it sounded rehearsed.

  Wren cringed.

  Reilly looked at her oddly as well.

  “Gloria,” called Sanders from within his office.

  “What?” she said, turning in the direction of his open door, blinking in confusion.

  “Make yourself useful. Go find Paul.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Gloria, smiling again. She shrugged at the two of them. “I’ll go find Paul.”

  PAUL Watkins finally appeared twenty minutes later, dragging behind him a huge bag full of white sheets. “Come with me,” he called. “I’ll show you how to get started.”

  Reilly hurried over and took the sheets from him, and Wren trailed after, not offering to carry anything.

  The laundry room was on the same floor as the offices, and it was a long set of laundromat-style washers and dryers. They even had coin operated dispensers on them, but they’d been disabled.

  “We got these donated, actually,” said Watkins. “It’s been a real lifesaver. So, anyway, here’s the soap.” He tugged out a large box of soap flakes. “You want to measure this out very carefully, because we need to make it last.” He smiled. “It’s easy enough. You dump the soap in first and then toss in the sheets and then set it for the regular cycle.”

  Wren started measuring out soap. “I’ll do the soap, then, and you guys can fill the washers. How many washers you think we’ll need?”

  “Probably four,” said Watkins.

  “What are the black robes for?”

  “Huh?” said Watkins, but he didn’t sound shocked or worried or anything, just genuinely confused.

  “When we were looking for you downstairs, we found a closet full of black robes,” said Reilly. “We figured they were graduation gowns or something.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Watkins, tugging sheets out of the laundry bag. “I’d have to look. We don’t have a graduation, so I couldn’t say.”

  Wren eyed him, trying to decide if he was putting on an act.

  “They were probably donated too,” said Watkins. “We never turn down a donation, let me tell you.”

  “Here,” said Reilly, “let me get those sheets for you.” He took them from the other man and piled them into one of the washers.

  “Thanks,” said Watkins. “After we get all the washers going, we should go upstairs and strip the beds of more sheets.”

  “Oh, were you doing that on your own while we were just standing around in the hall?” said Reilly.

  “I had another couple that was helping me for a while, but they had to move on to another opportunity,” said Watkins. “So, yeah, it’s just been me lately. I was glad when you guys showed up. I just knew you’d be perfect.”

  “We have laundry written all over us, huh?” said Wren.

  Watkins laughed. “Oh, Gloria said you were funny.”

  They started the washers and then headed up to the third floor, which was comprised of dorm-style rooms which was where people who were living at the facility were housed. Those people had all gone off to work for the day, and this was sheet laundry day, so Wren and the others stripped all the beds, splitting up to each take a room.

  They hauled the sheets down to the laundry room.

  By this time, the first sets of sheets were done, so they moved them over to the dryers and loaded up the washers again.

  “You two have any kids?” said Watkins.

  “No, just the two of us,” said Reilly.

  “That because you can’t, or you don’t want to, or…” Watkins spread his hands.

  Wren thought this was an invasive question, but she was trying to win this guy’s trust here, even if she really didn’t like him, so she just smiled cheerily. “No, we’re childless by choice.”

  “How come?” said Watkins. “Just don’t want the responsibility?”

  She exchanged a glance with Reilly. She knew that the people here were vetted, and she didn’t think that claiming to want to shirk responsibility would go over well. They wanted Watkins to let them in to his circle.

  “Nah, it’s a genetic thing on my part,” said Reilly. “My kids would have a good chance of inheriting this, uh, disease that my dad had. It skipped me, luckily, but I don’t want to take the risk.”

  “Oh,” said Watkins. “Well, that’s really too bad.”

  Wren shrugged. “We’re happy enough with each other.”

  “You ever think about adoption?” said Watkins. “Sperm donor?”

  Was Wren imagining this or were these questions getting progressively invasive? What was the obsession with kids?

  “Nope, never,” said Reilly, shrugging.

  “Well, maybe you should,” said Watkins. “After you get back on your feet, of course. You two seem like you’d make great parents.”

  “UM, excuse me, sir?” Maliah came out of her office, because there was a guy in his mid-twenties, dressed in a pair of shorts and a Che Guevara t-shirt walking through the hallways. She didn’t know who he was, or what he was doing there.

  The guy glanced up at her and then turned away without responding. He continued down the hallway.

  Maliah went after him. “Hey, excuse me!”

  The guy walked faster.

  “Look, if there’s someone you’re looking for, I’m happy to assist you, but otherwise you do not want to be walking through the halls of an FBI facility,” she called after him.

  He abruptly turned down a hallway and disappeared from sight.

  She muttered several choice words under her breath and followed him.

  She rounded the corner just in time to see the frosted-glass door to Trevon Aronson’s lab swinging closed. She hurried and caught it just before it shut and pulled it open. She stepped inside.

  Trevon was on the other side of the room, bent over a microscope, squinting through the lenses. He straightened.

  “Kayden,” he said. “You’re here. At my job. Wow.”

  “You know this guy,” said Maliah.

  “Oh, this is Kayden Rush,” said Trevon. “And my face is very familiar with his fists, if you know what I mean.”

  “We had an understanding,” growled Kayden, who was advancing on Trevon. “I told you to quit this job and leave town. I told you to leave Mischa alone.”

  Maliah got her phone out of her pocket and dialed down to the front office.

  It rang.

  She gritted her teeth. Honestly, for an FBI facility, the security here was lacking. They tended to let people come and go as they pleased a little too easily, she thought, probably because this was supposed to be a retreat for agents who needed a break from it all. But this was ridiculous. They were going to have to beef things up. How had this guy gotten in?

  “I haven’t contacted Mischa since you and I ‘talked,’” Trevon was saying, coming out from behind the equipment.

  “You didn’t leave town either.”

  “Well, you know, I didn’t agree to leave town,” said Trevon.

  “D.C. Field Office Auxiliary,” greeted a cheery voice in Maliah’s ear.

  “I need security in the crime lab on the first floor,” said Maliah.

  “Oh, seriously?” said the person on the other end.

  “No, I’m joking,” said Maliah sharply. “This is a prank. Yes, seriously.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m on it.” The person hung up.

  Maliah sighed, taking the phone away from her ear. Well, nothing like being hung up on to feel reassured that help was on its way.

  Kayden had come to a stop in front of Trevon. He had at least six inches on the other guy, and he was easily twice as broad. He poked Trevon in the chest with one finger. “Mischa doesn’t want to see you, not ever again.”

  “So you say,” said Trevon. “But I’d like to hear that from her, if you don’t mind.”


  “She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

  “That’s convenient for you, isn’t it?” said Trevon.

  Maliah looked around the lab, thinking that maybe she should arm herself. If Kayden tried anything, she could run at him from behind and bring something down on the top of his head.

  Of course, that probably wouldn’t work, and then Kayden would be coming after her, and where the hell was security?

  Kayden shook his head at him. “I can’t believe you followed her out here.”

  “I can’t believe you convinced her to leave everything behind and come out to the middle of nowhere,” said Trevon.

  “Maybe she just wanted to get away from you,” said Kayden. “You ever think that?”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Trevon. “You’re punching above your pay grade, Kayden. This is the FBI. What do you think happens if you damage some equipment in here, huh? What do you think happens if you’re arrested for being a threat on federal property?”

  This seemed to give Kayden pause. He turned to look back at the doorway.

  “She called for security. You heard her,” said Trevon. “Maybe you don’t want to be here when they show up.”

  Kayden turned back to Trevon. He leveled his forefinger at Trevon’s nose. “This isn’t over. If you bother us again…”

  Trevon folded his arms over his chest.

  Kayden shook his head and turned away. He glowered at Maliah and then stalked toward her.

  Maliah debated blocking the doorway, keeping him from getting out. Then she decided she didn’t want him to forcibly move her, and she stepped aside.

  Kayden left the room.

  She went out into the hallway, but he didn’t go back the way he’d come.

  Instead, he headed for another door at the end of the hallway, one that went directly outside. He pushed it open and was outside, strolling across the lawn, in moments.

  “Shit,” breathed Trevon.

  She turned to see him standing in the doorway to the lab.

  “I thought he was going to fucking kill me,” said Trevon.

  “I was looking around for something to use as a weapon.”

  Trevon let out a helpless laugh. “Holy fuck.” He leaned into the door, swinging it open, his breath coming out in noisy gasps.

  Maliah came over and put her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. We’re okay.”

  “I’m such an idiot.” Trevon laughed again. “I don’t know why I thought I could do anything for Mischa. I am no match for that dude.” He let out something that was surprisingly like a moan.

  “Security!” called a gruff voice, as two men in uniform burst onto the hallway, guns drawn.

  “Oh,” said Maliah, nodding at them. “Nice of you guys to show up.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KRIEGER sat with Wren and Reilly on the bus as they headed back home. They were in the back, on a seat that ran all the way across. Krieger was dirty and sweaty from a day of hard work, but he seemed pleased at how much progress they’d made.

  “I can’t believe how quick it was,” Krieger was saying. “The first freaking day.”

  “What do you think about the robes?” said Wren. “And the occult books?”

  “I don’t know,” said Krieger.

  “I think I’m reaching,” said Wren. “It’s a coincidence, and I’m just going to drop that.” She turned to Reilly. “I mean Watkins didn’t seem to know anything about it.”

  “Yeah,” said Reilly. “We’ll ask him about Sanders’s occult books, though, tomorrow, just to be sure.”

  “Even if it was some kind of occult thing, there’s no organized religion out there that’s sacrificing humans. You can’t convince people to systematically murder people, you know.”

  “Mmmm, Hitler begs to differ,” said Krieger.

  “Okay, but that’s the state,” said Wren. “I’m just saying there’s no precedent for cult murders.”

  “Uh…” Reilly just looked at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “The cult you grew up in—”

  “Not the same thing!” Wren threw up her hands. She glared at him, shaking her head. “If this turns out to be Satanic ritualistic sacrifice, I am going to…”

  “To what?” said Krieger, smirking at her.

  “Let’s start talking about the baby stuff,” said Wren. “That was weird, right?”

  “That was weird,” said Reilly. “At first, I thought he was just making conversation, and he was being a little rude, because maybe he’s not used to the people he interacts with having any boundaries, you know? He probably feels superior to the people who come there for help, and so he thinks he’s entitled to know their business. But then he was like a dog with a bone.”

  “Well, so… what does that mean?” said Krieger. “Like, he’s breeding people?”

  “If that’s the case, we fucked up,” said Reilly, “because I might have indicated that I had diseased chromosomes or something. I just thought it was easier to stick kind of close to the truth, and I don’t want to have children because of being afraid of passing stuff on to them, so it seemed like something to say.”

  “Well, I thought that we shouldn’t say that we didn’t want responsibility,” said Wren. “I didn’t think that would go over well.”

  “Right,” said Reilly.

  “Well, how did he seem after you told him about the chromosomes?” said Krieger.

  “I mean, I didn’t say that word,” said Reilly. “But, um, anyway, he didn’t seem deterred. He asked if we’d considered adoption or having a sperm donor.”

  “Yeah, and he was really pushing that,” said Wren. “He was asking me if I wanted to have children, really being nosy.” She cocked her head to one side. “I mean, I don’t know, but a lot of times, when serial killers have victims that are couples, they only fetishize the woman. Like Richard Ramirez killed tons of men, but he’d just break in and put a bullet in the guy’s head and then he’d take his time with the woman. She would be his sexual target. He was never sexually interested in his male victims—well, his grown male victims. So, maybe, Cai, you just don’t matter.”

  “So, why take couples at all?” said Krieger.

  “I don’t know,” said Wren. “Why didn’t Richard Ramirez just break into the houses of single women? Killing the guy is part of it somehow.”

  “This is assuming he’s a serial killer,” said Reilly. “But this could a much bigger thing, and everybody in the whole place could be in on it.”

  “Right,” said Wren. “That Gloria woman…” She turned to Krieger. “What’s her deal?”

  “What do you mean?” said Krieger.

  “Yeah, she seemed nice to me,” said Reilly.

  “Are you kidding me?” said Wren. “She’s weird. You guys just see an attractive blond woman and your brains turn off, apparently.”

  “Hey, take that back,” said Reilly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You know I only have eyes for you. I don’t even notice when other women are attractive.”

  She snorted. “Okay, Cai, sure.”

  “I know what you’re saying,” said Krieger. “She’s, um, a little vacant.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” said Reilly. “I didn’t think it would be polite to point that out, though. And seriously, Wren, that is not the kind of woman I find attractive.”

  “I’m not actually insecure,” said Wren.

  “No, you never are,” said Reilly, giving her an appreciative grin.

  “Anyway,” said Wren, blushing in spite of herself, “do we think she’s hiding something? Like maybe she has to be so weird and fake because she knows we’re all going to die. Lambs to the freaking slaughter?”

  “I think it’s just a certain affect of a kind of affluent type of woman,” said Krieger. “She’s probably volunteering here because she doesn’t have anything else to do except lounge around the pool and spend her husband’s money. Doing charity work gives her purpose, but she’s kind of detached from reality.�
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  “No, there’s more to it than that,” said Wren. She considered. “Well… I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

  “Have all of the people who’ve gone missing been working with Watkins?” said Reilly.

  “Since I’ve been here, the past six months, yes,” said Krieger. “Now, the other six people that have gone missing? I don’t know if they were working specifically with Watkins or not. All I know is they were associated with Love Over Want.”

  “Well,” said Wren, “we’re in, so I guess we just keep up the work, right?”

  “Yeah, and we hope that Watkins takes the bait,” said Krieger. He smiled at both of them. “Have I told you recently how grateful I am that you guys came out here?”

  “Not recently,” said Wren.

  “You could tell us again anytime,” said Reilly.

  “Yeah, we never get tired of hearing that,” said Wren.

  “WAIT, what?” Maliah said into the phone, thoroughly surprised at what Wren had just said. “Did you just say Satanists?”

  On the other end of the phone, Wren groaned. “I know, I know. I think I’m losing my mind. I just want you to look into it, okay? They’ve got to be getting funding from somewhere. Dig into it, hack some bank accounts or something. Can you do that?”

  “I mean, I’ve got the time,” said Maliah. “But you don’t really think it’s a front for Satanic virgin sacrifice, do you?”

  “Oh, or worse,” said Wren. “Baby sacrifice.”

  “Eeew, don’t even say that!” Maliah sat up straight. “That’s not a thing, is it? That’s made up.”

  “I think so,” said Wren. “But this guy here, he was asking weird leading questions about babies and it just popped into my head.”

  “If it’s dead babies, I’m quitting,” said Maliah. “I have a freaking limit, Delacroix. I have to sleep at night.”

  “It’s not dead babies,” said Wren. “We’re not out here looking for babies who disappeared.” But there was an undercurrent to her voice.

  “Oh, God,” said Maliah, a shudder going through her. “Look, I’m going to prove to you that it’s not Satanists.”