Virals tb-1

by Kathy Reichs

“Or . . .” Hi drew out the word. “They knew the body was there. And why we were there.”

  Scary. But was it possible? How could anyone have known about our plan? My brain was running in circles.

  “Let’s deal with this tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll tell Kit at breakfast, then come get the rest of you.”

  Three nods.

  “Remember.” Ben ticked off his fingers. “We found the dog tag, visited the library, and noticed the satellite photos. Got it?”

  Everyone did.

  But Hi wasn’t finished. “For the record, you guys seem way too comfortable with the fact that someone just tried to murder us.”

  “Shut it, Hi!” I’d had enough for one night. “Tomorrow. First thing.”

  Hi frowned but went silent. Finally.

  With nothing more to say, we headed down to the runabout. I hoped I’d be able to sleep.

  The next morning promised to be wild.

  CHAPTER 27

  Iambushed Kit before his morning coffee. No choice. It was already seven o’clock. The others would be waiting.

  Kit sat speechless, Frosted Flakes forgotten. When I’d finished he tried to process my words. After many long seconds, he found his tongue.

  “Someone shot at you, last night? On Loggerhead Island?”

  I nodded.

  “You found a dead body?” Incredulous. “You dug it up?”

  Nod number two.

  Another pause. Then Kit rubbed his eyes. “Tory, if this is about me not spending enough time with you, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best—”

  “I’m not making this up! We uncovered a skeleton. Then thugs stormed in shooting. Maybe to kill us, maybe to chase us away. I don’t know. But it happened.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Kit scratched his temple, thinking hard. “Did you see who they were?”

  “No. They wore black and it was pitch-dark.”

  “And the body you found, you think it’s this missing Keaton girl?”

  “Heaton. Katherine Heaton. I know it’s her.” I didn’t say how. First I needed to recover the incriminating dog tag.

  A third interlude while Kit’s mind fought to catch up.

  “So we go to the police,” Kit finally decided. “Right now. You get ready; I’ll go talk to the other parents. Then we’ll drive down to Folly Beach. You’ll explain everything to me on the way.”

  The next hour was a blur.

  Kit started with the Stolowitskis. Ruth didn’t take the news well. After grilling Hi, she was convinced that masked executioners would soon be storming Morris Island.

  Shelton had already told Mr. and Mrs. Devers. Lorelei agreed to accompany Kit and Ruth to the Folly Beach station.

  Kit caught Ben’s father on the dock, preparing his boat for the day. When informed, Tom Blue looked askance at Ben, but agreed to meet the group on Loggerhead after his morning ferry run.

  Folly Beach stretches for six miles along a barrier island fifteen minutes from downtown Charleston. Far from high end, the area is a haven for young hipsters seeking good surf and cheap flats by the sea.

  Since Morris Island’s sole road runs through the tiny community, the FBPD is responsible for law enforcement out our way. Loggerhead Island is private property, so jurisdiction there is less clear. But Folly seemed the best place to file our report.

  We found FBPD headquarters on the first floor of City Hall, a pink stucco building with blue-and-white shutters. The place looked more vacation rental office than government epicenter.

  The department takes up very little space. In the offseason things are quiet, but come summer, tourists roll in and the phones start ringing. There are only a handful of full-time officers.

  Eight in the morning. Wednesday. Late spring. We were the only citizens present.

  If Tom Blue had been skeptical, Sergeant Carmine Corcoran was downright suspicious. And far from happy to see us.

  Corcoran was a big man, probably in his mid-forties, with mutton-chop sideburns and a bristly black moustache. His large frame wore his bulk like a sack of wet hay.

  Kit and Corcoran shook hands. The sergeant gestured to a metal chair facing his desk, then unfolded two more for Lorelei and Ruth. The three adults took their seats.

  The boys and I lined up by the back wall. To an observer it would have been unclear whether we’d reported a crime or been accused of one.

  As concisely as possible, Kit explained our adventure of the last few days and the bones we’d discovered.

  Sergeant Corcoran glanced at his half-eaten Egg McMuffin, sighed, and shook his head.

  “Mr. Howard,” he drawled. “That’s one incredible tale.”

  “Doctor Howard,” I blurted. “And it’s not a tale. It’s the truth.”

  Kit hand-shushed me. “Sergeant, we didn’t come to waste your time. These kids found something, and someone fired a weapon at them.”

  “So they claim.” Corcoran settled his considerable derriere into his too-small chair. “Doctor Howard.”

  Okay. My input hadn’t moved this along.

  “Children are often mistaken.” Corcoran said. “We get crazy calls like this all the time. They never pan out.”

  “All four tell the same story,” Kit said. “Question them if you like.”

  Corcoran gave a half smirk. “Don’t take this personally, but I’ve found academics and their kids to be particularly unreliable. Prone to exaggeration, shall we say.”

  “No, we shall not.” Kit’s tone was glacial.

  Corcoran ignored him. “While this office is technically responsible for policing Morris Island, we don’t have the funding or the personnel for goose chases on Loggerhead. That’s Charleston University property. Campus security should deal with the situation.”

  Kit opened his mouth, closed it. Changed tack. “I’m reporting a possible murder. Are you refusing to investigate?

  “Don’t twist my meaning, Dr. Howard.” For the first time I noted hesitation in Corcoran’s manner. “Covering Morris strains departmental resources enough. It drains my time and manpower. Policing Loggerhead is out of the question.”

  “Strains your department!?” Ruth’s voice cut the air like a cleaver. “Your people never set foot in our neighborhood! Our own community watch is the only protection we have!”

  Shooting to her feet, Ruth grasped the edge of Corcoran’s desk. The sergeant flinched, regretted it, squared his shoulders.

  “My bubby says a man shot at him.” Ruth’s voice was shrill. “You will move your tuchus and investigate, or, so help me, I’ll be down at the mayor’s office faster than you can say Deputy Dawg.”

  We were cruising on a police boat ten minutes later.

  CHAPTER 28

  The rest of the morning was a disaster.

  The ride from Folly took thirty minutes. Sergeant Corcoran stayed inside the pilot’s cabin, avoiding Ruth. We Morris Islanders crowded together on the bow.

  Slowly, Loggerhead materialized before us. And with it, a serious problem.

  “Oh boy,” Kit groaned.

  Marcus Karsten was pacing the dock. Spotting the police boat he stopped, laced his fingers on his chest, and waited. A bird of prey, preparing to strike.

  And Karsten had company. Linus Stolowitski, Nelson Devers, and Tom Blue. It was obvious the fathers had already informed the agitated professor. The trio stood in silence at a safe distance.

  “What is this nonsense?” Karsten demanded, before we’d even tied down. “These children”—he spat the word—“claim there are dead bodies on my island? Ridiculous!”

  Kit’s face hardened. My heart went out to him. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. But I knew he’d soon be vindicated.

  “Dr. Karsten,” Kit answered, soft but firm. “The kids insist they found a human skeleton in the woods. If so, a crime may be involved. They also report that someone chased them firing weapons. We had no choice but to inform the police.”

  Karsten’s face grew so red I thought he might explode.

  Again,
I jumped in unbidden. Dumb, but that’s what I do.

  “Just let us show you the damn grave!”

  “Tory!” Kit’s eyes whipped to me, then back to his boss.

  Karsten pointed both index fingers in my direction, preparing to rip me a new one. Then he paused, seemed to reconsider.

  “Very well.” His tone was ice. “Lead on, Miss Brennan. But you’d better be right. For your sake.”

  We headed back to the dig site. Third time’s a charm.

  My gang led, followed by Karsten and a heavily sweating Sergeant Corcoran. The gaggle of unhappy parents brought up the rear.

  Soon Ben spotted the field.

  That’s when things bottomed out.

  As per our plan, while the group congregated at the grave, I slipped to my duffel. Inside, my tools lay haphazardly, still covered with soil. A quick rummage failed to turn up the dog tags.

  “Oh my God!” wailed Ruth Stolowitski. “There are bones down there!”

  Linus offered an arm to his wife.

  In grim silence, the others peered into the hole. We hadn’t tarped the site, and gusts of wind had covered the remains with a thin layer of dirt.

  “Human? No BS?” Corcoran’s entire demeanor had changed.

  Told you so, I thought. Then felt bad. What was the point of smug satisfaction?

  I refocused. Where the flip were those tags? I was sure I’d put them in the bag, which sat exactly as I’d left it.

  “All right.” Karsten’s nose and eyes were pinched, as though he were conducting an unpleasant experiment. “Dr. Howard, please enter the excavation and verify the find.”

  Kit hopped into the grave, careful to avoid stepping on the remains. As he landed I shot a quick headshake at the boys. Questioning looks flew back. I shrugged. How should I know? The tags were just gone.

  Seconds passed before Kit passed verdict.

  “Uh, kids, I think you’ve made a mistake.” He looked . . . was that . . . embarrassed?

  “A mistake?” Impossible. I bit back the last word.

  “I’m sure it was too dark to see clearly.” Kit avoided my eyes. “It’s easy to get confused.”

  “Confused? What? The skeleton is right there!”

  Kit sighed. “Honey, these are primate bones.”

  I rushed to the pit. The others followed.

  If eyes really can bug, ours did it.

  The human skeleton was gone. In its place lay a jumble of old monkey bones. Anyone could see the stuff wasn’t human.

  “What the hell?” squeaked Shelton.

  “That’s not what we found!” I cried. “We dug up a young female with a bullet hole in her skull. I’ve never seen these bones before!”

  Hi and Ben nodded like bobbleheads, equally astonished.

  “Dear lord!” Sergeant Corcoran shot me a wicked look. “Monkey bones on a monkey island. Imagine that.” He wagged his head in disgust. “Kid scientists.”

  Karsten snorted. Like Corcoran, he seemed to be enjoying our disgrace.

  Hi’s mother was uncharacteristically speechless. Shelton’s parents looked relieved. Tom Blue just shook his head. Our credibility had dropped through the floorboards.

  Someone switched the bones!

  “The gunmen!” I sputtered. “They snatched the skeleton and planted animal bones in its place!”

  “Gunmen?” Corcoran scoffed. “You’re sticking to that crazy terrorist fantasy?”

  “Tory,” Kit said, “it was pitch black, right? Maybe you got overexcited after reading about that missing girl, and—”

  “Bullets!” I gestured at the trees. “The shooter hit a branch. The slugs will still be there.”

  I sprinted for the tree line. The boys followed. The adults didn’t.

  Frantically we scanned the canopy.

  No damage. No bullets. In the background I could her Kit trying to placate Karsten and Corcoran.

  “Tory, look! Eleven o’clock.” Shelton pointed. “See, near the trunk? Someone sawed off a branch and covered the spot with sap.”

  Shelton was right. I wanted to scream with frustration.

  “The shooters took the dog tags,” Ben said quietly. “That’s why you can’t find them.”

  “Then they replaced the skeleton with monkey bones. Making us look like fools.” Hi whistled. “I’m going to catch hell.”

  “Not another word until we figure this out,” I ordered. “Got it?”

  The boys agreed. Someone clever was working against us. We couldn’t walk blindly into any more traps.

  Dejected, we rejoined the adults.

  “Find anything?” Kit asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m sure you were frightened,” Lorelei empathized. “In the forest. In the dark. Any loud noise could sound like a gunshot.”

  Shelton nodded meekly. No point arguing.

  “Hiram Moshe Stolowitski,” Ruth rumbled. “You’re in big trouble, young man!”

  Hi rolled his eyes, reconciled to his fate.

  “Go easy,” said Kit. “It was an honest mistake.”

  “Honest mistake or not, this little escapade killed my morning.” Corcoran turned to Karsten. “In the future, doc, keep your own house in order.”

  “I did not invite you here,” Karsten seethed. “But I am inviting you to leave. Now.”

  Sensing he’d overplayed his hand, Corcoran lumbered off down the trail. The rest of us fell in step behind him.

  “There is another matter,” Karsten called to our retreating backs. “A break-in occurred at Lab Six last weekend.”

  We all turned, clearly apprehensive. Except for Ruth, each parent worked in some capacity for LIRI.

  “I’ll be conducting an investigation,” Karsten continued, an inquisitor confronting wicked souls. “I expect everyone’s full cooperation.”

  “Of course,” Kit answered. The other adults nodded.

  “For openers, I want to know why these children are here so much. What they do. Where they go.”

  I started to protest. Kit’s hand clamped my shoulder. Firmly. I got the message.

  “For now, I’ll only add this.” Karsten smiled without warmth. “If I’d done something foolish, like, say, stolen something, I might try to misdirect the authorities.”

  Karsten’s eyes drilled into me.

  He suspected. And he wanted me to know.

  “And what better way to divert suspicion,” Karsten said, “than to fabricate a tale of masked marauders with firearms rampaging across the island?”

  With that, Karsten pushed past us and strode down the trail.

  CHAPTER 29

  On the return trip, my mind spun wheelies. I couldn’t believe what had happened. The skeleton was gone. We’d been humiliated.

  What had we stumbled upon? Who were we up against?

  Hi had it the worst. Ruth grilled him nonstop, firing a barrage of pointed questions. He bobbed and weaved with his answers.

  Lorelei Devers was convinced that, due to nerves, we’d imagined the whole thing. Rolling with his mother’s theory, Shelton emphasized how “chaotic” and “alarming” the night had been. Lorelei ate it up.

  I felt a sharp pang of sadness. Where was my mom, to comfort me? Why did I always have to take care of myself?

  Tears welled behind my lids. The sudden grief spread, threatened to overwhelm. I gave my head a quick shake, tried to dislodge the thoughts. I didn’t want to go there. Not with others around.

  Ben sat next to me. Kit had remained on Loggerhead and Tom was driving the boat, so we were alone. For now. A bit of luck on a day having none.

  After Karsten’s revelation, Kit had seemed less receptive to my version of events. Not outright suspicious, but definitely wary. He’d said that we “needed to talk” when he got home. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. At all.

  “We looked like idiots,” Ben muttered.

  “Total morons,” I agreed. “And now Karsten suspects we’re responsible for the break-in. Talk about bad mojo.”


  “They must’ve come for the remains,” Ben said. “To dig Heaton up. We were in the way.”

  “I think so, too. They confiscated the skeleton and the tags, then planted monkey bones to discredit us.” I sighed. “The bastards erased all traces of Katherine from that grave.”

  But the timing mystified me.

  “After what, forty years?” I asked. “Why now? Why remove Katherine yesterday, just twenty-four hours after we learned about her disappearance?”

  Ben shook his head. No answers.

  I considered the last few days. I don’t believe in coincidence. Something bothered me.

  Synapses fired in my brain. Images. Sounds.

  A seed of suspicion sprouted. Sent out roots.

  Maybe.

  I kept the theory to myself. I needed proof.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived back at Morris. We’d missed an entire day of school. I stretched, tired. A nap beckoned.

  But the gang needed to dissect today’s fiasco. To tease meaning from the melodrama that had just played out.

  How? Sneaking off to the bunker would be impossible.

  “I’m texting Shelton and Hi. Download iFollow.” I told Ben about the app Jason had shown me. “Load the program onto your laptop, too. iFollow has real-time videoconferencing. After dinner tonight, we can meet online.”

  “Will do.”

  As Ben worked his mobile, I fired my message into cyberspace. It only took a moment.

  Hi glanced at his current phone, an older model he’d dug from a desk drawer that morning. His iPhone was still missing, no doubt lining the ocean floor below us. Ten seconds. Then, careful not to alert his mother, he flashed me a thumbs-up behind his back.

  Shelton read my text from his pocket. Staring into space, he nodded, seemingly at nothing.

  I leaned back, mentally poking and prodding my theory. I needed to be sure.

  From now on, I wasn’t going to play the fool.

  At dinner I danced around Kit’s questions. Telling the truth was pointless. He’d never believe it.

  “I made a mistake. Got scared.”

  “A mistake?” Kit’s eyes narrowed. “About bones?”

  Two-shoulder shrug.

  Distracted by his own problems, Kit didn’t press. His face looked drawn. Getting chewed out by your boss will do that, I guess.