Bed of Bones (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book Five)

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  When she finished talking, he’d battered his fists on the steering wheel. He commanded Shelby to return to the floorboard once again. He put the truck in gear and drove to a house. She knew this because she heard a garage door go up. They transferred from the truck to a car. The car smelled like lavender inside. They drove out of the garage, and the garage door went down. He drove several minutes then stopped again. He asked her to hold out her hands.

  He didn’t tell her.

  He asked her.

  He then scrubbed her hands and fingernails with a wet cloth. It smelled like hand sanitizer, but stronger. He gave her specific instructions which he made her repeat before reaching in front of her, opening the passenger side door, and letting her go.

  As Shelby told her story, every person witnessing her statement was baffled.

  To my left, a short female rushed toward me, flailing her arms. She entered the interrogation room. “We found something when we were processing the girl’s coat.”

  All eyes shifted to the woman and the white Ziploc dangling from her hand. A single slip of paper was inside. “This note was shoved inside the girl’s pocket.”

  The chief turned to Shelby, eyes wide. “You know about this?”

  “How could I? There was a bag over my head.”

  “You have no idea when it was put there?”

  “Umm…like I said…no.”

  Emphasis on the “no.”

  The chief held the bag in front of him, read aloud. “Proverbs 28:10 Whoso causeth the righteous to go astray in an evil way, he shall fall himself into his own pit: but the upright shall have good things in possession.”

  This one was different. It didn’t fit. What message was he sending, and to whom?

  Before we left, I took Carlo aside, pressing him about whether they’d spoken to Ronnie about Brynn.

  “We did,” Carlo said. “Get this. He didn’t deny she had the abortion. He knew about the baby, but he claims it wasn’t his.”

  “I thought they were a couple?” I asked.

  “A few months ago, they took a break. The way Ronnie tells it, the break was Brynn’s idea. They got back together a month ago, and she confessed she’d had a one-night stand.”

  “Did she say who with?”

  “He told her he didn’t want to know. In his opinion, she only told him because she found out she was pregnant and she wanted to keep the baby. He said the only way he’d take her back was if she got rid of it.”

  “Nice,” I said. “I guess carrying the baby to term and giving it up for adoption to a loving couple desperate to have a child of their own was out of the question.”

  “He claims he was embarrassed. He didn’t want anyone to know what she had done. He said they couldn’t be together again until the deed was done, and if he found out she’d told anyone, even one of her friends, they were over for good.”

  “So she had the abortion,” I said. “And he has no idea who the father is or was. Terrific.”

  “Were you thinking the Sundance Killer was the father?”

  “No. None of the victims had been violated sexually. In my opinion, he sees them as unclean. It was probably random, and while he was hunting Brynn, he found out about it somehow.”

  “I agree.”

  An image emerged in my head of the Sundance Killer—a silent predator, lurking, following, hiding in the shadows. Waiting and watching for months, maybe even longer. His obsession growing day after day as he monitored the movie. Disruption or not, he’d keep going. He was three down, and there were still four more to go.

  CHAPTER 36

  I wouldn’t have blamed Cade for splitting as soon as he was given permission to take his daughter, but he didn’t. He asked to stay another night. It was late. The roads back to Jackson Hole would be icy. It was safer if he left in the morning.

  It took a couple hours, but with the help of a sleep aid, Boo snuggled by her side, and the kind of comfort only her father could give, Shelby finally dozed off.

  After Cade had suffered through the loss of his daughter twice in one week, I decided it was only fair to answer his questions, starting with the explosion on day one and going from there. By the time I finished, he knew as much as I did. It felt good to let it all out. I ended the conversation by expressing how sorry I was.

  Again.

  It was a word I had become an expert at saying.

  “You don’t need to keep apologizin’ for everything. Do you think I haven’t ever lost someone on a case I was workin’? We never want these things to happen. Sometimes they just do. As a friend, I’m tellin’ you right now, it’s time you get an alarm system installed in this house. I don’t wanna hear about your guns either. Sometimes guns aren’t enough. Not with the kind of cases you take on.”

  He was right.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  “I don’t want you to think about it, I want you to do it. If it’s too much hassle, I’ll install it myself before I leave.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you can’t wait to get out of here. I’m glad you stayed tonight. It makes me feel a lot better knowing you’re here.”

  “Even with the officer across the street?”

  For a minute, I’d forgotten the officer was there. Most people would feel safe knowing an officer of the law was outside their home, specifically assigned for their protection. Instead, I felt trapped.

  “I don’t know him,” I said, “the officer in the squad car. I know you. There’s the difference.”

  “You think you’ll hear from him again?”

  “The killer?” I asked.

  “Him too, I guess. But I was talkin’ about Giovanni.”

  I wondered when Giovanni would come up again.

  “He…chose his family.”

  “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “His father put him in a position, forced him to make a choice,” I said.

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “I’m not. It’s almost like I expected this to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Our relationship had been strained lately.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Callin’ it quits.”

  It was a loaded question, and it deserved a careful, well thought-out answer. I resisted the urge to blurt out my initial thought, knowing I couldn’t unsay something once it had been said. I didn’t want to admit a fragment of my heart felt like it had been severed from me. I didn’t want to reveal I’d considered calling Giovanni several times over the last two days, once even dialing his number and then hanging up before it started to ring. Those kinds of admissions were embarrassing, and not the kind another guy wanted to hear, no matter what they said to the contrary. No straight man remains close to a woman only to be content in the role of friend. Anyone who says different is lying, to themselves and to the other person. In my world, whether they admitted it or not, men wanted all or nothing.

  “I try not to live my life with regrets,” I said. “I’m a realist. I accept things the way they are, learn from my mistakes, move on.” A good, safe answer, except he wasn’t buying it. I could tell. I’d never been much of a salesperson.

  “You should go to bed. Your eyes are startin’ to close.”

  “No they’re not. I’m fine.”

  He leaned forward, framing my face with his hand. “Trust me, they are.”

  I stood.

  “Do you need more blankets? Another pillow? Anything?” I asked.

  He kicked off his boots, set them to the side, pulled his hat over his face.

  “You’re sleeping in your clothes?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he said through the hat. “I’m just waitin’ for you.”

  The thought of him dressed in anything other than Western wear was amusing.

  “What time are you thinking you’ll head out in the morning?”

  “We’ll see.”

  We’ll see. Noncommittal.

&nb
sp; I walked over, pulled the hat off his face. “Cade?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You are leaving, right?”

  “Why’d you ask—you want me to?”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “You’re avoiding the question,” I said.

  “And you’re avoidin’ sleep.” He pulled the hat back over his face. “Goodnight, Sloane.”

  CHAPTER 37

  The time on my wall clock said it was a little past eleven in the morning, which couldn’t have been right. I never slept past seven. Maybe the batteries were dead. I reached for my cell phone, hoping the clock was wrong. No such luck.

  I wrapped my hair around an elastic band, brushed my teeth, and did my best to walk a straight line to the living room. My head was pounding. Too little sleep followed by too much does wonders for a person. Cade sat on a chair, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes glued to a hunting show on the television on a channel I never knew I had. Three men, dressed in camouflage from head to toe, crouched down, rifles in hand, all of them whispering.

  “What’s with the lowered voices?” I asked.

  Cade turned around, tried not to seem startled to find me standing there, even though he was. “They don’t want the animals knowin’ they’re there.”

  He was whispering too. Odd.

  “What animals?”

  Before he could answer, one of the guys stuck a small device in between his lips. He squeezed it then blew into the hole. It emitted a sound so shrill, I imagined a chipmunk screaming.

  “They’re callin’ in a coyote.”

  “Using that…thing? I thought they were trying to be quiet?”

  My lack of intelligence in the area of hunting seemed to amuse him.

  “It’s supposed to sound like a rabbit.”

  “A rabbit doing what?” I asked.

  “Uhh…dyin’…the sound brings ’em in.”

  I wasn’t sure what face I pulled, but the TV was switched off without delay.

  “There’s no rabbit,” he said. “It’s just a device. Okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “You hungry?”

  He walked to the kitchen, uncovered a plate of eggs, bacon, potatoes, even toast.

  “When did you get all of this?” I asked.

  “Last night. We stopped at the store before all the madness happened.”

  I bit into a piece of bacon and revisited my question from the night before. “So when do you plan on heading out?”

  “Let’s talk about it.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Leaving.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “This guy you’re lookin’ for…when he took my daughter, he made it personal.”

  “They’ll catch him.”

  “Maybe they will or maybe I will. I don’t give a damn if I don’t have jurisdiction here. I’m not leavin’.”

  There was no point trying to talk him out of it. I knew he wouldn’t listen. I opened my mouth to object then closed it. Having him stay wasn’t such a bad thing. I just needed to keep us both under the radar.

  “What are your plans today?” he asked. “You’re still goin’ after him, right?”

  I shot him a wink. “Do you really have to ask?”

  …

  I stood in Maddie’s living room giving her my best “I need your help” stare. I used it often. She recognized it right away.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I need a favor.”

  Maddie gave Shelby a once over. “I can tell.”

  “I dig your…house,” Shelby said. “It’s so…orange, and bright, and colorful.”

  Maddie had never been one to adhere to any specific trend. Her living room walls might have been adorned with massive orange-and-white flowered prints, with an accent wall in the brightest hue of hot pink, but her bedroom was another story. It was black and decorated in a spicy shade of red that men couldn’t resist. It made her relationship with the straight-as-an-arrow Chief Sheppard seem even more surreal to me. I supposed everyone had secret fantasies. Even him.

  “I live alone which means I can do whatever I want,” Maddie boasted. “That’s the beauty of flying solo.”

  “Sloane lives alone,” Shelby said. “Her house doesn’t look like this.”

  Maddie and Shelby laughed in unison. Nice.

  “I dig your outfit,” Maddie said.

  Shelby blushed. I’d made the right decision bringing her here.

  Cade, who’d skipped the pleasantries, stared with an intense fascination at Maddie’s DVD collection. He looked different today, surprising me by slipping on a ball cap instead of his usual hat, which made him look like a bull rider at a summer rodeo. In a ball cap and a button-up shirt with frayed pockets, he reminded me a lot of the country singer, Eric Church. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  “Madison, good to see you again,” Cade said.

  “Is this cute one yours?” She nodded at Shelby.

  He raised a brow indicating “cute” depended on the day. “She is.”

  Maddie looked back at me. “What do you two need from me?”

  “Can Shelby hang out here today, if you’re not working?” I asked.

  “I need to go in for a while. I’ll take her with me.” Maddie looked at me then placed a hand on her hip. “What, you’re afraid of her seeing a few dead people? I’m sure she can handle it.”

  Maddie didn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t be fascinated by deceased bodies on a coroner’s table.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.

  We walked into the other room.

  “Calm down,” Maddie scolded. “Don’t be so paranoid. I won’t let her anywhere near the dearly departed if it’s a problem. She can hang out with my assistants, watch them process stuff.”

  “How much do you know about what happened to Shelby?” I asked.

  “I’d know a lot more if you returned my phone calls.”

  “Maddie…”

  “Wade stayed over last night. I know all about it anyway.”

  “This guy, he let her go,” I said. “I’m not worried he’ll come after her again. I just don’t want her to be alone, and Cade insists on going with me.”

  “Since when did you allow a guy to insist on anything?”

  “The killer took his daughter. He has a right to go after him.”

  “I got it. She’ll be fine. Go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “Where to?” Cade asked once we’d returned to the car.

  “When I met with Butch he told me they’d had a robbery at the museum awhile back. He thought one of his female employees was behind it, but he didn’t have enough proof.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “He gave me her name. Karin Ackerman.”

  “Do you know where to find her?”

  Silly question.

  “She has a yoga studio over in Kimball Junction.”

  “And she’s there now?” he asked.

  “She’s just finishing her last class and is getting ready to start another one.”

  “Let me guess—with you?”

  “I’ve requested a private session.”

  “What would you like me to do?” he asked.

  We turned in front of Tranquility Yoga and parked. I tugged the nylon cord on my duffle bag in the back seat, leaned over, and patted Cade on the shoulder. “Would you wait here? If she’s a runner, I might need back up.”

  As a detective in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, he was used to giving orders, not taking them. But the odds of him taking a yoga class were slim to never-in-this-lifetime.

  I entered the building, changed into more suitable clothes, and found Karin sitting on a mat. Her slim yet muscular legs were folded one over the other. Her hair was in a fishtail braid cascading down the side of her neck. Her hands wer
e pressed together, head down, eyes closed. She was either meditating or praying. Several feet in front of her was a basket filled with rolled mats. I took one, sat down, bent my knees, waited.

  “You haven’t ever done yoga before, have you?” Karin asked. Her eyelids fluttered open like she’d awakened from a deep sleep.

  “Jujitsu mostly. Is it obvious?”

  “Your posture is a bit…off.”

  I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about. My posture was perfect.

  “I’ve been meaning to branch out, try something new,” I said.

  It was true. I’d received a red-and-black belt, accomplishing my goal in mixed martial arts.

  “What do you know about yoga?”

  “Not much,” I said. “I’ve heard it’s relaxing.”

  “Depends on what kind you do.”

  We began the session with some deep breathing and then moved into some restorative poses, focusing on relaxation. I wanted to get right down to business, ask my questions, but I found myself enjoying the way I felt. The tightness in my body diminished, my stress faded.

  We stood and began sun salutations followed by something she called “tree pose.” I shifted my weight to the right, bent my knee, lifted my left leg off the ground, and rested it on my inner thigh, my toe pointed toward the floor. She asked me to fix my gaze on an object in the room and hold it there. Once we mirrored each other in balance, the questioning began.

  “Am I allowed to talk?” I asked.

  “Do you need a break?”

  “I like the pose. It’s just hard for me to stay quiet this long.”

  In real life, I preferred to sit back, remain a quiet observer. On the job, it was a different story.

  “You’ll get used to it. I’d rather you stay quiet, try to focus.” Her eyes were steadfast, unmoving.

  “I got your number from a girl I met at the Park City Museum,” I said.

  The statement didn’t seem to rattle her in the least. My delivery was lacking. I tried a more direct approach.

  “The girl I met told me she’d gone to the museum when she heard the indie film Bed of Bones was coming to the Sundance Film Festival this year.”