“Oh, stop it,” Skye said. “You guys act like this is the first meal I’ve ever cooked for you. I’ve watched you guys enough times chow down on meals I threw together instead of ordering takeout. I can cook. Sure. Just ask Sierra who happens to love her mama’s homemade vanilla pudding. Doncha, sweetheart?”
Instead of answering, Sierra licked mac n cheese off her fingers.
Skye waited a beat. “So what’s so special about this one spread?”
“Skye has a knack for throwing together a great meal from scratch,” Josh boasted, dishing up a plateful of roast beef. “Her crockpot ideas go beyond the norm. She even makes oatmeal in the slow cooker. And all that time she spent as a fry cook didn’t go to waste. She makes the best Monte Cristo sandwich that’s great with fries.”
“Using animals for food consumption is disgusting,” Francine tossed out, sending Josh a sympathetic look. “Some people don’t know that animals are crammed into cages and live their lives under filthy conditions.” The woman glanced around the table. When she saw everyone digging into the meat dish, she realized she might’ve spoken out of turn. “Besides, it’s hard to imagine Skye as a fry cook. You must’ve been desperate and poor to take such a job.”
Travis started to argue the point but Zoe did it for him.
The teenager’s eyes bored holes into Francine’s face at the use of the word poor. “Lots of people struggle to make ends meet. It’s not a perfect world out there. I know because I came from a very dysfunctional part of it. Some people are forced to exist on the streets because they have nowhere else to go. Ask Skye about that sometime. She and Josh have helped a ton of homeless people get their lives back on track. And Skye knows them all by name. They aren’t just empty faces to her. At least Skye learned how to take care of herself in high school. And she did something for others, she gave back to the community. She wasn’t always with Josh, you know. What strong woman doesn’t spend time alone? She spent years on her own taking care of herself. She did just fine.”
Skye patted Zoe’s arm. “Down, girl. I’m sure Francine didn’t mean anything by the statement. Because, let’s face it, fry cooks keep the world eating. Am I right?”
Francine’s cheeks had already turned a bright shade of red. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking. I just thought…you and Josh…you two…are so…different. Most of Josh’s employees couldn’t see him with a fry cook. That’s all I’m saying. I guess that explains a lot though.” Francine tried to recover by getting her foot out of her mouth. But no matter what she did, her pale cheeks kept getting more crimson by the minute. “The rosemary potatoes are delicious though, very tasty.”
Josh finally caught the gist of what Francine had implied. “Go back to what you said earlier for a minute. Explains what exactly?”
Francine kept her eyes on her plate. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t think so. Tell me how you think Skye and I are so different.”
Francine swallowed hard and finally looked up to meet Josh’s eyes. “Some of us at work…it’s just that…we wonder how she so easily got you to give up your business to fight crime. I mean, come on, you have to know how silly that is. I’m not the only one who’s tried to figure that one out. Coworkers talk. A lot of them wonder the same thing.”
Josh narrowed his gaze, boring holes at his employee. “I’m a little confused. I haven’t given up anything. Ander All Games is still as popular as ever. Our sales are through the roof. My business has never suffered because I choose to work from home instead of commuting back and forth to the mainland five days a week. I make it about three. But that’s no one’s business but mine. I’m surprised they gossip like that, especially since their bonuses have increased over the last two years. Besides, what I do with my off time is not for busybodies butting into my personal life, just as it isn’t any of my business what you do with yours. Why would you, or anyone, think I’ve given up Ander All Games?”
Sensing she’d hit a land mine, Francine tried to backtrack. “They might not have said that specifically. It’s just that you’re never there anymore. Hardly ever. The place doesn’t run itself. And Mr. Graham? Todd’s almost a basket case.”
“Todd is socially awkward,” Josh stated, all lighthearted teasing gone from his voice. “Socially awkward is miles apart from being a basket case. Todd suffers from Asperger’s, or as the condition is known these days, Autism Spectrum Disorder. He’s made great strides in overcoming some of his problems. I’m surprised at you, Francie. I’m disappointed to know you and your coworkers find his condition fodder for your office gossip. To talk about me is one thing, but to include Todd in your malicious rumor mill is harsh, to say the least.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Josh tossed down his napkin. “I think you did. You’re talking about the very people who pay your salary. And FYI, I discovered a long time ago that I don’t have to physically be in the office for it to run smoothly. Todd and I have hired managers, good ones, who take care of the day to day operations. Not only that, we’re in constant communication with each other, emailing back and forth at least ten times a day. We’ve been known to work around the clock just to get out a new product. Ask these guys you’re breaking bread with tonight. They bust their asses. Any time there’s a problem, we take care of it. Todd and I regularly go over the books ourselves. We don’t take anyone’s word for anything. We’re hands-on owners, always have been. I don’t see that changing any time soon. And I’ve known Todd since middle school, and believe me, Todd knows more about code than anyone in the city. He puts his heart and soul into this company just as I do. I strongly suggest you go back and tell your coworkers to limit their gossiping to other things—maybe their own flaws—and stick to why they’re getting paid. Do your jobs and stop second guessing everyone else. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely. I’m…sorry that I…upset you,” Francine stuttered, clearly embarrassed about the disclosure.
“No, I’m glad you brought it up. We got a chance to clear the air. But I’m confused about something else. If you feel that way about helping fight crime, that it’s such a horrible thing to take on, why did you agree to come up to Everett this afternoon to draw a sketch that we hope does just that?”
Francine had stopped eating, and instead, clutched her stomach. “I think I need to…use the restroom…will you excuse me?”
“Bathroom’s right off the study,” Skye said as the young woman dashed out of the room and down the hallway.
Winston was the first one to break the silence. “That woman’s a real piece of work. Where did you find her?”
Josh picked up his water glass. “I have no idea. Personnel hired her. I was under the impression that Ander All Games had a fairly happy work crew. I guess I was wrong.”
Zoe snickered with laughter. “Francine has a major crush on you. That’s what brought her here looking like a celebrity walking the red carpet. You were right, Skye. Francine’s got it bad.”
“You knew about this?” Josh asked, turning to stare at his wife.
Skye chuckled. “Hard not to pick up on it. But I think after today, it’s over. You pretty much destroyed her illusion. I’m not sure what broke the bubble more, the fact that you’re a raging carnivore, or the fact that you married a lowly fry cook.”
Laughter from everyone broke the awkwardness.
Josh finally got the joke. “So that’s why you’ve been looking so smug?”
“Have I? It’s not every day a girl with a major crush and a hope chest full of ideas leaves here with her dreams crushed. It’s sad really, but inevitable that crushes like that seem to die a natural death. I sometimes forget though, how much you’ve given up.” Skye stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table and headed into the kitchen.
Josh followed with a stack of plates and slapped them down on the counter so hard they rattled. “Not this again. I didn’t give up a damn thing.”
Ready to argue, Skye faced him. “You did. You were all snug in your c
orporate world before that night in the alleyway.”
“Have you forgotten I wouldn’t be standing here, without you showing up that night?”
“That’s…a little dramatic…and a lot overblown, don’t you think?”
“Maybe for you. For me, it was facing down four thugs who wanted to rob me and didn’t give a damn if they stabbed me in the process. I have the scar to prove it. You kicked ass that night. Watching you in action woke up something inside me, emotions I didn’t know I had left.”
She pushed her hair away from her face. “Yeah, well, you hung around me and died because of it. How about that? You seem to forget how much of an idiot I was the day I got you killed, the day I thought I could take down Whitfield by myself. Have you forgotten about that little incident? It was the worst day of my life.”
“Oh, come on. Now who’s exaggerating? The worst day of your life was getting kidnapped at twelve by a pedophile.”
She made a noise in her throat. “But I still have nightmares about watching you take your last breath, lying there on the muddy ground, lifeless. Even now thinking about it, makes me sick at my stomach.”
“But thanks to Kiya, it all worked out.”
“It really pisses me off the cavalier way you handle dying.”
He stepped closer, picking her up off the floor. “Would you rather I bitch about it for the rest of my life? What would be the point of that?”
“You should’ve ranted and raved and blamed me.”
“Why? I don’t blame you for wanting to go after that bastard and take him out. I never did.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “You ripped his throat out for me.”
“See, right there. That’s what you should focus on. I’m here, alive and well. I’ll say it again. I didn’t give up a thing.”
“Do you have any idea how you’ve changed my life?”
He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. “Yeah? Right back at you.”
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“If it’s half as much as I love you…”
Their lips met.
She bunched his shirt into her fists. “That’s why Francine can never have you.”
He laughed from deep in the belly. “That’s good to know because I’m not one bit interested in the snooty Francine. Although she did draw a decent sketch of our Cross-country Killer.”
“Was she even curious as to why you needed the sketch?”
“Francine is much more interested in a trip to the mall than crime-fighting. She actually has a lot in common with Chenoa.”
“Maybe we should get them together for afternoon tea. In their world, they’d both love that. Do me a favor. While I load the dishwasher, will you go put gas in the minivan?”
“You mean as in fuel?”
She took hold of his chin. “As much as I love your hybrid and your desire to impact the environment in a positive way for Sierra, I also respect the idea of not getting stranded. So before we journey into the Cascades tomorrow, don’t you think it would be a good idea to fill the tank…with good old-fashioned fossil fuel? I don’t feel like getting stuck at the side of the road without gas.”
“I’m surprised at you. So little faith in technology.”
“Yeah. Well. Sue me because I’m a tad old-fashioned when it comes to running out of gas. I’m opposed to it.”
“And here I thought we were like-minded about greenhouse gases and their impact on the earth.”
“Oh, we are. I just vote for gasoline this trip over the charging station. For once indulge my instincts.”
He shook his head. “We’ve taken trips before using nothing but electricity. What’s so special about going out to the woods now?”
“Call it intuition. Kiya protects all of us one way or another.”
“Fair enough. Fine. I’ll go gas up under one condition. You show Francine out to her car. I don’t want to even look at her right now.”
“Deal,” Skye said quickly. “Strangely I don’t mind one bit escorting the lovely and talented Francine Gaines right out the front door.”
***
That night after putting Sierra to bed, Skye and Josh took advantage of the indoor gun range Travis had set up on his property so he wouldn’t have to make the trip into Seattle every time he wanted to fire off a round.
They often found themselves here practicing their aim so they wouldn’t get rusty.
Travis had done some remodeling lately, taking the old shooting gallery and moving it behind a natural berm that helped in soundproofing. He’d also added sound-absorbing acoustic paneling to better keep the noise in, and enlarged the space so two could fire at the same time. He’d built an additional berm backstop outside using piles of dirt to absorb even more echo. The goal of the renovation was to keep stray bullets from escaping the gun range. He’d done all this for his granddaughter’s safety. As soon as Sierra was old enough to walk, he was taking no chances that any type of gun accident might occur.
Skye aimed the powerful Glock Josh favored at the paper target while Josh used her Ruger. Emptying the clip in rapid-fire succession, her seven shots at twenty yards had hit dead center.
Josh looked on from the side. “You always look so hot doing that.”
She punched him lightly in the ribs. “You just focus on what you’re doing instead of me. You could use a sharpshooter moment.”
“You just like rubbing it in because you’re a better shot than I am at a still target. But, we both know I do better with one that’s moving.”
“And you never let me forget it either. We should ask Harry to get us those crime scene photos from Henderson. With everything going on, I’ll send him a text now.” She put down the Glock long enough to key in her request, letting the former detective know the FBI nerd might’ve missed one.
“He must be asleep already, which is not a bad idea for us. It’s been a long day.”
“And it’ll be another long one tomorrow. Let’s head for the house and call it a night.”
Six
Sunday night
The air felt sultry, a summer night with steamy humidity so thick it seemed more like fog. She moved along the residential street heading north to Aurora Avenue.
On this hot night, she was on the hunt. But for what? Or whom?
She couldn’t remember.
If only the breeze would kick in off the Sound, she thought. But not a twig stirred along the quiet lane lined with oak and sycamore. She walked along the sidewalk littered with the blooms of dogwoods and magnolias that had fallen like rain from the branches.
As she strolled through the neighborhood, she noted the pretty little houses on either side. Here, old world charm mingled with Craftsman style, some renovated with fancy upgrades, some needing a fresh coat of paint.
Over her shoulder was the George Washington Memorial Bridge. Traffic was light, probably because it neared three a.m. in the morning. Almost time to call it a night, she decided, changing direction.
A memory flitted on the fringes of her brain but refused to come into full focus. She passed a homeless person asleep near the tunnel and wondered why he seemed so far away.
It was as if she floated toward the intersection where Green Lake Way dumped into Aurora. She put her hands up to block out the blinding light of the string of motels along this section of the roadway. But the blinking neon served to underscore she still had work to do.
She heard footsteps behind her. Unwilling to take chances, she ducked behind the nearest fence…and waited. It turned out to be another homeless person, drunk on too much Thunderbird and looking for a place to crash.
She let him pass and popped out of her hiding place to continue along her route. By this time, the scenery had changed again.
There was a wooded area near here where a body had been discovered some years back. Skye tried to remember the details, but could bring nothing that made sense out of the brain vault.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t sh
e focus, concentrate? She used to be good at this sort of thing. Why was she having so much trouble recalling her routine?
Thrown off balance, she thought she heard a baby cry. As she moved on past the Methodist church, the crying got louder. She had no choice but to follow the sound to an abandoned storefront.
Who in their right mind would leave a baby here in this dilapidated building?
Peering inside through one of the filthy windows, she spotted a familiar round cherub face. Sierra. Her baby. The panic was immediate and strong. What was her precious daughter doing in a place like this?
Skye bolted straight up in bed as if she’d been shot out of a cannon. Wet with sweat, she realized it had all been a dream. She struggled for an intake of air. It was okay, just a nightmarish walk through the past that didn’t mean anything. Thankful for that, she scrubbed her hands down her face. Glancing to her right, she saw Josh was still deep in slumber.
Okay, everything seemed in its proper place. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned back against the headboard. Sierra was safe in her own bed all was right in her world. But then she noted they weren’t back home at all. For a few minutes she struggled to get her bearings. No, this wasn’t her bedroom, she wasn’t back on Bainbridge Island tucked under her own covers, but at her dad’s place. Now, everything clicked into place. They’d spent the night with Travis.
Did her unease mean something was wrong with Sierra?
She threw the covers off in a hurry, determined to test her mother’s intuition. The minute her feet hit the floor, she grabbed a robe off the nearest chair and scampered out of the room, darting down the hallway to check on Sierra.
She ran into the baby’s room. As soon as she spotted Sierra sleeping peacefully in the crib Travis had bought and put together especially for his only grandchild, she whooshed out a sigh of relief. She ran an unsteady hand over the birch rail, gripping the crib until her knuckles turned white.
Truth in the Bones Page 9
