Silver's Bones

by Midge Bubany

  Chapter 4

  August 7

  My eyes sprung open forty-five minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Shannon stirred under the covers. I kissed her and whispered, “Want to go for a run with me this morning?”

  She grunted. I let her be and dressed quietly. As I walked into the hallway, Bullet meandered out of Luke’s room, tail wagging in hopes of going along. He used to sleep by my side, but this was two nights in a row he’d slept in Luke’s room. Bullet knew who needed him.

  “Ready for a run, boy?” I whispered.

  His answer was the beeline he made down the steps, his nails clicking all the way. He waited for me at the back door, his tail thumping against the bench.

  The temperature had only dropped to seventy-eight degrees overnight and the atmosphere was rich with humidity, so I held the run to thirty minutes, taking my short loop around the residential part of town. My running time was my best thinking time. Today my mind was on Silver Rae Dawson’s fifteen-year-old missing person case. Usually, a seventeen-year-old girl ends up dead and buried because of a sex crime. The bouquet of flowers intrigued me. Could be for a drowning victim, a location of a love affair, anything really. But then again, it could end up being the most important clue.

  By the time we got home, Bullet was panting heavily and my clothing was saturated with sweat. When I opened the door, Bullet made a dash for his water bowl and drank it nearly dry. Then he pranced by his food dish.

  “You live for food, good buddy. I’m going to have you wait until you cool off.”

  He bowed to me, lifting his rear in the air. While I drank two full glasses of water the boys’ orange tabby cats, Roy and Dale, slunk into the room looking for their kibble. While on duty, Shannon and I had discovered the three animals in a hoarder’s home, and later when the court ordered the animals be placed up for adoption, I gave Shannon first choice—the two cats or Bullet. She took the cats and later regretted it because the boys loved Bullet so much. When I visited her, she had me bring him along for the boys, which in the end, made the joining of the households an easier transition for the pets.

  When I walked into the bedroom, the radio alarm was playing away but Shannon was still dead to the world. I kissed her all over her face to wake her. She stretched her arms around my neck and said, “Sex makes me sleep so much better. Who knew?”

  “Babe, I’m at your service.”

  “Ick, you’re all sweaty. Did you jog?”

  “Yes and I like you sweaty.”

  “Yeah, well, you stink. Go shower.”

  After showering and dressing, I found Shannon still snuggled in. I sat next to her and kissed her again. “It’s after six. Get up or I’ll climb in with you and you’ll be really late.”

  She threw off the covers and said, “After six? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  When I got back to the kitchen, Bullet was still guarding his dish. I poured his food then watched as he gobbled without tasting it. Then I put him outside so I could feed the cats, who would meow and rub up against my legs until I filled their dishes. While Bullet inhaled his food, the cats ate delicately, picking out one piece at a time, taking it away from their bowl to eat it, then running back to grab another piece. The whole process must have taken an hour, as opposed to Bullet’s two minutes tops.

  Teddy Kohler knocked on the back door. He was Colby’s age, a cute little guy with his brown curly hair.

  “Hey, Teddy, you up working already?”

  He handed me a plate of warm blueberry muffins.

  “Mommy made these for you.”

  “Well, tell her thank you very much.”

  “’Kay,” he said and skipped off.

  Ever since I moved across the street from the Kohlers, his mom, Eleanor, sent over plates of goodies every week. I considered it her way of thanking me for solving her husband’s murder. I thought she’d stop when I got married, but this was quadruple the amount she usually gave me. I downed three.

  Twenty minutes later, Shannon walked into the kitchen fully dressed in her uniform. She sat at the counter while I made her a cup of dark roast with the Keurig we’d received as a wedding gift from Eleanor.

  “Scrambled eggs to go with Eleanor’s blueberry muffins?” I asked my bride.

  “I’m not hungry this morning, and I feel bloated. I put on three pounds.”

  “Can’t tell,” I said.

  “You should have woken me so I could’ve run with you.”

  I smiled. “Next time.”

  As I was eating my breakfast, I read the headline story in The Register: Skeletal Remains Found Near Lake Emmaline. After describing the precise location, the reporter speculated on whose remains they were:

  Ray and Franny Dawson believe the victim to be their daughter, Silver Rae, who disappeared fifteen years ago while babysitting at her neighbor’s farm just two miles from the shallow grave. Former Deputy Sergeant Ralph Martinson investigated the case and is now the Chief of Police with the Lafayette Bay Police Department, west of Minneapolis on Lake Minnetonka. Chief Martinson said in a phone interview the area where the remains were found had been thoroughly searched the day after Miss Dawson’s disappearance. The case remains open.

  “The paper gives directions to Adriana’s,” I said.

  “Great,” Shannon moaned. “That’s going to make keeping the nut jobs away harder. Are you going directly out there this morning?”

  “No, we have a case meeting first.”

  Brittany walked in from the backyard with wet hair.

  “That was so refreshing,” she said.

  “Why didn’t I think to swim this morning instead of run?” I said. “Hey, Brit. That pot roast was so good last night, I considered having it for breakfast. But then Eleanor sent over muffins.”

  She laughed. “Do you want me put something in for dinner before I go to class?”

  “No, we’ll have the leftovers,” Shannon said.

  I grabbed an old department tan “sheriff” T-shirt and pair of black shorts to throw in the car, and Shannon and I both took off at the same time.

  In attendance at the case meeting were Sheriff Clinton, Leslie Rouch and Norman Edgerton from BRO, Katherine Abbott from our lab, Dr. Jennifer Kennedy from the University, Patrice, Troy, and me.

  First thing Sheriff Clinton did was announce Troy would be the department’s lead investigator for the case. I expected as much, but I wanted it.

  “I’m confident Troy will lead the team to solving the case in a speedy manner. He’s thorough and relentless in his pursuit of crime.”

  Whaaat?

  “As is Cal Sheehan,” Leslie Rouch said.

  “Yes, of course,” Sheriff Clinton said. “We have two highly qualified investigators on this.”

  What was she talking about? In the five months she’d been in office, we hadn’t had any serious crimes to investigate.

  We discussed the Silver Rae Dawson rumors and it was agreed that until we had a positive ID, we were at a standstill. Nothing would be released to the press, although that didn’t seem to stop them from reporting what they thought we had.

  The recovery would take days and the remains would eventually be moved to Bemidji to the crime lab. Either Troy or myself would have to be at the excavation site during the time when the crew was working. The other would help handle dispatch calls and inquiries from law enforcement officials and reporters across the Midwest.

  As Leslie left the room, she stopped me. “I was hoping you’d be lead on the case, Cal. I enjoy working with you.”

  “Thanks, but I expected Troy to get this one—he’s senior—and it’s a big one.”

  “Yeah, but there’s something else going on with your sheriff. Way I see it, she’s either trying to win his favor or rebuild his fragile ego by all the pandering she’s doing. As far as I�
��m concerned, you solved the Kohler case.”

  “It was teamwork.”

  “Perhaps, but I’ll see to it you get credit for your part on this one.”

  “I’m not worried about who gets credit.” I was lying. I did care.

  “Yeah, but Troy is, and that’s my problem with him.”

  After spending hours on the phone contacting law enforcement departments who had left messages, I was happy to hear from Troy. He’d forgotten the camera and asked me to bring it out, which meant I could get off the damn phone.

  As I approached the Ronson Development turn-off on Highway 51, I could see a line of media vans parked up and down the highway. Reporters and photographers were standing in a group outside the closest van, and when they saw my vehicle pulling up to the check-in point, they began moving as a herd toward me.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “What can you tell us?” one shouted.

  I held up my hand and said, “Nothing yet.”

  “How long before the body is identified?”

  “Is it Silver Rae Dawson?”

  The deputy on duty, Levi Anderson, moved the barricade and waved me through. I watched the crowd retreat. Levi was one of our youngest and biggest deputies. He handed me the clipboard and I signed the login.

  “How long have they been here?” I asked.

  “All night. They were here when I came on at eleven.”

  Leslie pulled in behind me with a container of Northwoods coffee and a large box of pastries and Styrofoam cups. We set the goodies on Adriana’s picnic table outside the sliding patio doors. A handwritten sign saying “Feel free to use the bathroom” was taped to the glass.

  Adriana came out dressed in a red suit. She always did look good in red.

  “I could take off today as well,” she said.

  “Why would you?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Well, the patio door is unlocked . . . Cal, don’t look so troubled. You’ll solve this, you know.”

  I nodded.

  When she went back into the house, Leslie said, “See? She has confidence in you as well.”

  “We used to date.”

  “Ah. I thought I picked up a vibe.”

  I smiled. “You’re just picking up all sorts of vibes today, aren’t you?”

  “That’s part of our job—to read people.”

  “I may need your skill set to help me read people.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Cal. Doughnut?”

  “You bet.”

  I brought the camera down to Troy, who was wearing shorts and an old department T-shirt like the one I had thrown in the car. Since all the crewmembers were wearing shorts, I changed into mine and joined Troy to help where I could: transporting buckets of dirt or fetching something for someone.

  Sheriff Clinton called Troy before lunch saying she was bringing lunch out, and wanted to know how many people were there. When he hung up, he said, “S’pose you’ll change back into your uniform before she gets here.”

  “Hey, I’m the rule follower here, not you, and I say let’s stand up to her.”

  About one o’clock Troy said he was going inside to use the restroom, but I figured he was hiding from Patrice. I was standing alone when the squad car pulled up. I felt like a defiant kid waiting for a reprimand from the principal for dressing inappropriately and not being where I was supposed to be. Would she write me up for something as trivial as this?

  But it wasn’t Sheriff Clinton—it was my wife.

  “Hey, baby, good to see you,” I said.

  She looked around before she gave me a peck on the lips.

  “I’ve got lunch,” she said.

  Together we unloaded the bins of food and I talked her into staying to eat with me.

  When Adriana returned home that afternoon, she changed into shorts before she came outside.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  Troy got a goofy look on his face and said, “Slow. I’d rather be on a pontoon out on the lake. You ever consider buying one, Adriana?”

  “Actually, yes. Know of any good used ones for sale?”

  “A buddy of mine has one he wants to sell. If you’re interested, I’ll give him a call.”

  “Do that.”

  “Well, all right all right all right,” he said, trying to sound like Matthew McConaughey.

  I lifted my brows and looked at Adriana, who was smiling at Troy.

  Really?

  “Does anyone need anything?” she asked.

  “Thanks, but we’re set,” I said.

  Troy looked at his watch. “How about a beer? I’m officially off duty.”

  “Sure. Cal, you want one?”

  “No . . . thanks.”

  When Troy followed her into the house, I felt a pang of something I had no right to feel. I didn’t want her, but I didn’t like her wanting someone else. So, I stood in the heat, sweating, watching people brush dirt off bones with a toothbrush. It was twilight before everyone else called it a night, and I didn’t see Troy or Adriana after they went inside.

  Three hours later, Shannon and I were relaxing on our back deck when my cell phone rang. We both made a face. I looked at the display. Adriana? Shit.

  “Sheehan,” I answered.

  “Cal, as we were eating dinner, three kids came walking right onto my property from the east side.”

  We?

  “Did you call 911? There are patrols nearby.”

  Adriana hesitated. “No . . . I thought I’d call you.”

  “Yeah, well, you need to call dispatch and let them know of the breach.”

  “Sorry I bothered you,” she said, and hung up.

  “Adriana?” Shannon asked.

  “She called to tell me kids walked onto her property.”

  “You were a little curt with her.”

  “I don’t want her calling my phone.”

  A momentary silence hung heavy in the night. She took a sip of wine, then narrowed her eyes. “I feel sorry for her having to deal with all this. This afternoon Tamika and I were having a conversation about how security needs to be tighter out there. With the exact location given in the Register, every screwball curiosity seeker is going to try to see the site.”

  “I’m not sure Patrice understands what we went through with the Kohler/Peterson case.”

  “Do you think you should call Patrice to tell her about the breach?”

  “No, I don’t. Dispatch will handle it.”

  Shannon shrugged. “Okay.”

  I took a pull of my beer.

  “I liked seeing you today,” I said. “It was a nice diversion in a long day.”

  “For me, too.”

  “I didn’t ask how your day was, Mrs. Sheehan.”

  “Quiet. Two speeders, one stop sign, and one window tint.”

  “Warnings, or did you write ’em up?”

  “Warned the window tint. The others got citations.”

  “You are one tough cookie . . . but a beautiful one.”

  When she put her hand on my inner thigh, I whistled “Dixie.” We went to bed.

  Chapter 5

  August 8

  The next morning at seven thirty, I drove out to Adriana’s to apologize for being abrupt (Shannon’s idea), and to find out about the intruders. I caught her and Troy drinking coffee at her picnic table. She was wearing the royal blue suit dress I liked.

  She held up her mug. “Want one?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  When she went into the house to get it, Troy said, “She had some kids here last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then about eleven o’clock, five more people walked in right toward the site. I wrote ’em u
p.”

  “You were here?”

  “Yeah. I came out to help guard the site. Spanky was parked out by the road and turned away several people. This morning I caught people in kayaks pulling up along the shore. We don’t have enough deputies out here. I told Adriana she should call Patrice and demand a greater security presence. I gave her the number.”

  “And what did Patrice say?”

  “She apologized and said she’d put a guard at the site. And here I be.”

  “People love this shit. Don’t they?”

  “Yep. Since you showed up, I think I’ll go home and catch a few hours. Anything big happens, call me.”

  “You got it. Hey, before you go, did you record the intruders’ names?”

  “What do you think?” He handed me his small notebook. I read through the two lists of names.

  “Phillip Warner’s kid?”

  “Yeah, Adriana’s boss’s kid.” He laughed. “Hey, I like the black shorts with your uniform shirt. Good thinking. I’m doing that, too.”

  “Did you have dinner here last night?” I asked.

  He smirked. “No, why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Because she said “we.”

  He took off for home, and then I saw who the other half of the “we” was—Adriana’s mother, Magna, also known as Mean Magna or Mugs.

  Magna’s brows looked an inch higher than when I had seen her last. She must have had yet another lift.

  Adriana came out to hand me a mug of coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I’ll be right back,” Adriana said.

  I said good morning to Magna before I took a sip. Her lips were pinched in self-importance, like always.

  “Good morning,” she responded. “How are you, Cal?”

  “I’m dandy, and you, Mrs. Valero?”

  “My, aren’t we formal? When do you think you’ll be done with this business?”

  “When the forensic team is done.”