****
Daira closed the door, dropped her purse onto the chair, and kicked off her shoes, feet sinking blissfully into the carpet. Her boss had kept her running errands all day rather than typing and filing.
Lemon wound around her ankles. She picked him up, rubbing her cheek against the top of his head. He purred, and the sound soothed her.
She fed Lemon his dinner, popped a cup of water in the microwave for tea. When she turned around, the note on the refrigerator caught her attention.
Dare,
I borrowed the doll. I’ll bring it back tonight.
Love, Misti
She rushed to the living room, picking her purse up from the chair. She pulled her cell phone out and searched for Misti’s cell number. Why hadn’t she just memorized it? It would have been faster.
Her sister’s phone went to voice mail. Daira left orders for her to call immediately.
Could the doll hurt Misti? She pulled up the site and began skimming entries.
The curse said only that whoever was unfaithful to the owner of the doll would suffer.
Misti would never be unfaithful to her. Or would the doll consider Misti borrowing it without permission as being unfaithful?
She called her sister again. Again it went to voice mail.
“Call me immediately. I mean it. I’m worried about you.”
She picked Rory’s business card up off the desk and began to dial. She stopped before pressing the call button, took a deep breath, and closed the phone.
Her vision wavered. She brushed the moisture from her eyes. Misti was the only real family she had left. She hadn’t heard from her own father since high school graduation, when he’d sent her a note saying she was eighteen and he no longer had to pay child support.
She closed her eyes and imagined Rory’s arms around her, his voice a low rumble against her ear.
Her hand tightened on the phone.
It took a few seconds for the notes of “Fly Away” to penetrate her thoughts. She flipped open the phone. “Misti, where are you?”
“What’s wrong?” her sister asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She let out a sigh, and the fear came out with it. “I was afraid something had happened to you.”
“Didn’t you get my note?”
“Yes. What were you thinking, taking off with that doll?”
“You’re not mad ’cause I borrowed the doll, are you? I know it’s valuable, but I took good care of it.”
“I’m not mad at all, I’m just…” She shook her head. Misti was all right. That was all that mattered.
“I told you before that I was going to borrow it for the S.E.M.”
“The what?”
“The Scanning Electron Microscope. Julie and I are helping her dad gather images. He already has a ton. We thought it’d be cool to add whalebone. Anyway, don’t be such a worrier. Julie and I just left his lab. We’re going to stop at a drive-thru, and then we’re on our way home.”
****
An hour later, Daira stared at the open freezer. She could have a pot pie or thaw some chicken in the microwave. She was leaning toward the pot pie, just for the sake of time, when the phone rang. Misti.
Her sister’s voice squeaked as her words tumbled together.
“What? Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“The doll,” Misti repeated slowly. “It’s not made of whalebone.”
“What is it then? Walrus tusk?”
“Human bone.”
“Human?” Sparkles danced before her eyes, and the kitchen turned cold. Daira tried to focus on Misti’s words, but human bone…human bone… kept circling through her mind. She dropped the phone on the counter and ran down the hall.
She reached the bathroom just in time, dropping to her knees and heaving. When her stomach calmed, she buried her face in her hands for a long moment. Finally, feeling a little less shaky, she rose to her feet, splashed cold water on her face, washed off her make-up, and brushed her teeth.
The phone. She had left poor Misti hanging. She returned to the kitchen and picked up the phone. No one was there. She’d call her sister back in a minute, just as soon as she regained her composure.
She pulled a soft drink from the refrigerator, popped the top, and took a sip. She made a face as the taste of the cola mingled with mint toothpaste. Leaning against the back door, she closed her eyes and rubbed the cold can against her forehead. Human bone. Shit.
A thump-thump sounded at the front door. She headed for it reluctantly, checked the peephole, then let her sister in.
“You okay?” Misti asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“Thanks.” She plopped into the chair. “Please tell me that was your idea of a sick joke.”
“Nope.” Misti sat on the arm of the chair and started talking about mummified collagen fibers. It made no sense to Daira.
“Doctor Clark said there have been beads and things made from human bone, but this is the first time he’s heard of a doll made from human bone. Although it’s likely happened before, he’d just never actually heard of one.”
Daira took another sip of the cola. Her stomach still felt a little iffy, but it seemed to be managing the soft drink.
“Of course,” Misti said, “since the doll’s three hundred years old, we’ll probably never learn the history behind it, let alone whose bones it was made from.”
Daira’s stomach turned again, acid began to rise. She headed for the bathroom just as the doorbell rang. Misti could answer it.
She threw up cola and bile, splashed more water on her face, and brushed her teeth again.
Movement caught her eye and she turned, expecting to find Misti. Rory leaned against the doorframe.
She spit the toothpaste into the sink. He took the toothbrush from her, rinsed it, and put it back in its holder.
His hand pressed against her forehead, then shifted so the backs of his fingers were against her cheek.
“You all right? Misti said you were sick.”
She went into his embrace, felt his arms enfold her, and began to cry. No wonder the doll was cursed. Everything inside her screamed someone had been murdered to make it.
Rory’s hand stroked her hair. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on.
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I take it this isn’t a stomach bug. Did something happen at work?”
She pulled back far enough to see his face.
“It’s the doll. It’s—”
“Daira—”
“Listen.” She waited until he gave a little nod. “It’s made of human bone.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Doctor Clark—Misti’s roommate’s father—is an anthropologist. They got some electron something and scanned the doll. Doctor Clark said it’s made of human bone.”
Rory’s forehead creased. “Why would someone make a doll out of human bone?”
She shook her head.
He placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her down the hall and back to the living room.
Misti had settled into the chair, Lemon curled up in her lap. “Feel better?”
“A little.” She sat on the couch, and Rory settled next to her, his arm around her shoulders.
“All right, ladies. Let’s start from the beginning.”
He listened as Misti explained, asking an occasional question, but otherwise refraining from comment until she finished.
“Doctor Clark said he’d like to do some further studies on the doll,” Misti said as she wrapped up her explanation. “He said the head was probably carved from the ball of the hip joint.”
“Does he still have the doll?” Rory asked.
Misti shook her head and picked her backpack up from its spot next to the chair. She pulled out the doll, still wrapped in a bath towel.
“I told him I didn’t think Daira would mind if he kept it for a little whil
e, but he said it’s valuable, and he’d have to have something from her, notarized, before he could keep it. Even for a few days.”
How would that affect the curse? She didn’t want to pass it on to someone else.
Rory kissed the top of her head and gave her shoulders a squeeze.
“It was some kind of gruesome trophy,” she said. “You know how serial killers take jewelry and things so they can look at them and relive the murder? The doll was the ultimate trophy—a piece of the victim he could keep forever.”
“The victim might not have been murdered,” Rory said.
Daira rubbed her temple. “Why else would they have carved someone’s bones?”
“Maybe the doll came from an area where people practiced some type of magic. I remember reading about primitive cultures that honored the dead by consuming them. Maybe it was an honor of some kind.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing on the website about that. The doll was passed down in the same family for generations. From what I read, it started out as a child’s doll.”
“Now that is just creepy,” Misti said. “Who would give their kid a doll made out of human bone?”
“Maybe they didn’t know what the doll was made of,” Rory said. “They could have bought it from someone or the doll could have been a gift. You know, sailors carved scrimshaw ornaments. The doll could have been carved from the bones of a sailor, someone who died on the ship.”
Misti shook her head. “I think they just tossed them in the water.”
“It was carved from a woman’s bones,” Daira said. “Carved by someone she knew.”
“Why do you say that?” Rory asked.
She looked into his eyes, tears on her cheeks. “I just know it.”
Chapter Twelve
Daira curled into the corner of the couch, an old, red afghan wrapped around her shoulders.
Misti bent down to place a kiss on her cheek. “I have a lot of reading to do for my morning class, but I could get my books and come back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rory said. “I’m going to stay the night.”
Daira raised her head. “Since when do I need a babysitter?” The comment didn’t have the strength she’d intended.
“It really shook you up when I told you it was human bone,” Misti said. “I thought it was really interesting. I didn’t expect you to freak out on me.”
“I did not freak out.”
Her sister and Rory exchanged a glance.
“I didn’t freak out,” she insisted. “It’s just…gruesome.”
Rory gave Misti a pat on the shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”
Misti nodded, hefted the backpack onto one shoulder, and left.
“I don’t know about you,” Rory said, “but I’m starved.”
She waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Help yourself.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall, studying her until she felt the urge to squirm.
“Quit staring at me. I’m fine. I’m not going to pull my hair out or run naked through the neighborhood.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “How about running naked through the house?”
She offered him a weak smile in return. “I’m fine. Really.”
He sat next to her, rubbing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “You’re getting a little color back, but your skin’s still cold.”
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “You know how I felt about the doll to begin with.”
He leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “I have a craving for Mexican. I was going to stop by my house and grab a few things. If I call in an order now, it should be ready in time for me to swing by and pick it up on my way back. What would you like?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She focused on his eyes, noting the fine lines at the corners. “You don’t have to come back.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Daira knew she should send him away, but she didn’t want to spend the night alone.
He stood up, towering over her. “Tell you what, why don’t I toss that damn doll in my SUV? Get it out of the house until you figure out what you’re going to do with it. Or better yet, I’ll toss it out a window.”
Oh, how she wanted to take him up on the offer. It made her sick to her stomach just thinking about it being in her home. She opened her mouth to tell him “Yes, take the doll,” but an image flashed through her mind—Rory’s SUV crashing—rolling—and the doll laughing. “No,” she said instead.
“Mind telling me why not?”
She lowered her gaze to the arm of the couch. “It might find a way to get even,” she mumbled.
Rory sighed. “You don’t sound rational, sweetheart.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “Do you have a storage shed?”
She waved a hand toward the backyard. “A small one. Why?”
“Is it locked?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the key?”
“What? You’re going to mow my lawn?”
“Do you need me to?”
Was he serious? She frowned. “I’ve been mowing my own lawn ever since I bought the house ten years ago.”
The light in his eyes told her she was being teased.
“Tell me where the key to the shed is, and I’ll toss the doll in there.”
She pictured the shed: small, dark, and home to spiders. It seemed an appropriate place for the doll.
“The kitchen drawer closest to the back door. The key ring has a hot air balloon on it.”
Misti had put the doll back in the closet. Rory took it out again. A minute later, she heard him searching through her junk drawer, then going out her back door. He returned to the living room long enough to pick up his keys and give her a quick kiss.
****
Without Rory’s substantial presence, the house felt empty. She turned on the TV just for the background noise and went to her computer. She intended to check her email and turn the computer off, but the doll’s website seemed to call to her.
There was a reply from Numbers Lady. She called Daira a selfish bitch for keeping the doll to herself. She still wanted to buy it and promised to pay a hefty sum. Daira was tempted to sell it to her just to get the ugly little thing away from her house and out of her life.
The doll is made of human bone, she typed. I don’t see anything in the doll’s history about that. I don’t want it in my house. My sister wants it, but I’m afraid of passing the curse on to her. Misti is all the family I have. How do I get rid of the doll and the curse? Throwing it away doesn’t work. According to what’s written on this website, getting rid of the doll doesn’t end the curse anyway. Only true love. The problem is, I don’t believe in true love. The women in my family have no luck with love.
True love ends the curse. How she longed to believe in true love.
****
It was almost midnight, and she really should go to bed, but Janet Mable was celebrating. She poured a second glass of wine. Daira Gleeson. In the end it had been simple to locate her. She didn’t have much information to help track her down, but Daira was an unusual name. It hadn’t taken long to go through the Gs in the Anadarko phone book.
Now she just had to figure out a way to make Daira give her the doll. She’d offered to buy the doll and would have gladly paid well. Stupid bitch should have just sold it to her.
She was about to learn just what lengths Janet would go to in order to get what she wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
At three in the afternoon, Janet Mable stood on the front porch of Daira Gleeson’s house. It wasn’t anything special. Small house, small yard. No dog barking, thank goodness.
And no car in the driveway. Daira G. was probably at work.
“Are you looking for Daira?” a voice asked.
Janet whirled. A teenage girl stood in the next yard, too lazy to walk all the way over to talk to her.
“Yeah,” Janet called. “I’m her cousin. I thought I’d stop by and vis
it, since I was passing through.”
“Her car’s not here,” the girl said, stating the obvious.
“Maybe she’s at Misti’s?” Did Misti even live in Anadarko? Daira hadn’t said.
“Could be.”
“I forgot Misti’s address, and I don’t have her number on my cell.”
“She lives at the Country Club apartments.”
Janet smiled. “Can you tell me how to get there?”
****
Daira put the marinated steak in the bottom of the refrigerator. Rory had assured her this morning that he would be spending the night again.
She pulled a soft drink out of the refrigerator and closed the door.
Rory certainly seemed to be making himself at home in her life. It had been nice this morning to wake up with his arm around her, to sit across the table from him at breakfast and share a goodbye kiss before they headed off to work.
She told herself not to think in terms of permanence, but to settle for a pleasant interlude and hope her heart didn’t break when it was over. If she didn’t plan on something more permanent, would it keep the doll from thinking Daira had been betrayed when Rory finally left?
She was searching the cabinets for side dish ideas when the phone rang. She caught it on the second ring, more than a little afraid it was Rory calling to say he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t be coming over.
“Daira, it’s Julie. Have you seen Misti?”
“Not since last night.”
“She’s not here.”
Daira glanced at the clock on the microwave. “It’s not even six. She’s probably at work.”
“She worked this morning.”
Daira gathered the ingredients for a green bean casserole. “Maybe they called her in to work the dinner rush.”
“She’s not at work. Her car’s here.”
“Well, she can’t have gone far. Maybe she’s at a neighbor’s. Maybe a friend picked her up.” She wrinkled her nose. “She’s probably with Lucky.”
Across the phone line, Julie sighed. “She’s not with Lucky. She decided to break up with him by ignoring him. Besides, her cell’s here. I found it on the floor. You know she never goes anywhere without it. Something’s wrong. When I came home the door was closed, but not locked. Misti’s real careful about things like that.”
The Bone Bride Page 6
