His Garden of Bones

by Vickie McKeehan

  Skye held up her coffee cup. “See, this is the reason we’re hitting the streets tonight. We have to be out there when he strikes again.”

  “I wish every cop in America could get results like you two do,” Emmett admitted. “I mean we’ve discussed the whole spirit guide thing, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind a ride-along.”

  “Or in this case, a walkabout,” Josh quipped.

  “You should come with us,” Skye suggested. Scowling into her mug, she thought of a different approach. “Answer me this. How does someone like our messed-up killer splinter into two personalities in the first place?”

  Emmett picked up his iPad, scrolled to the screen he wanted. “I’d say the guy we’re after likely suffered long-term abuse from a family member in the same vein as Carroll Edward Cole—Cole’s tally when finally captured was sixteen victims that they know about.”

  “I’ve never even heard of Cole,” Josh admitted.

  “Most people haven’t. The public loves to focus on the Bundys and the Dahmers, or drifters like Ottis Toole and Henry Lee Lucas. Those killers loved the spotlight and milked the press. What they tend to ignore is all the others. The ones who were just as active but never received the same amount of dynamic media coverage. The ones who slip under the radar are the cross-dressers like Hadden Clark and Carroll Cole.”

  Over the profiler’s shoulder Skye read the details on Cole. “Among her other offenses, Cole’s mother forced him to dress up like a girl. Dual personalities seemed to be a side effect of horrific child abuse. Hmm, then we wonder how they develop into such sick perverted offenders.”

  Emmett dipped a shoulder, lowered his head. “What makes you think our guy suffers from just two personalities? It could be three, four, or more.”

  Skye started to respond to that and then just let her mouth drop open.

  It was Josh who thoughtfully stated, “So this guy is so broken that he’s losing a grip on the only persona he’s ever known—the one he was born with.”

  Emmett nodded. “Count on it. He’s likely been heading down that road for years.”

  “So what do we do?” Skye tendered.

  Before Emmett could answer, Josh did it for him. “What else? We go back to the beginning. Where’s that list Leo compiled for us? The one we’ve had everyone focusing on for days.”

  Skye left the room and was gone several minutes before returning. She tossed a folder on the table in frustration. “You want to start back at the beginning? Good. Because the first name on that list is Camilla Prentiss. City and state, Pocatello, Idaho. Status, missing fifteen years. Camilla disappeared at the age of eleven after being left alone on what should’ve been a routine babysitting job for a family named Grainger. The Graingers lived a couple streets over from the Prentiss family. According to what little police notes I could get my hands on, Mrs. Prentiss allowed her young daughter to babysit only if Camilla agreed to call every half hour to check in. Somewhere between seven and seven-thirty the night before Easter, someone entered the Graingers house through the baby’s window—the lock had been busted—and abducted Camilla. The Graingers had gone out to eat at their favorite restaurant, leaving a girl they’d left in charge before with their child, only to return less than two hours later to find the baby alone in the house and no sign of Camilla anywhere on the grounds.”

  Josh picked up the folder, went over again what Skye had recapped. “When did you find time to get the police files on Camilla?”

  Skye lifted a shoulder, crossed her arms over her chest. “That folder isn’t the complete file. But when you were in the hospital I had to do something to keep my sanity. Reggie showed me the ropes, a couple of tricks to drill down to obtain what I could. The thing is, we don’t even know for certain if any of the girls on that list are tied to our killer. If the two of us go storming off to Idaho we could easily miss an opportunity right here at home.”

  Josh glanced over at the profiler. “She means going out tonight might yield a better lead while the trip to Pocatello is a long shot at best.”

  “Then how about this? Why not let me take the trip to Idaho and do the legwork. Let me do my part in catching this guy,” Emmett offered.

  “That’ll work,” Skye said in agreement.

  “Good. At the very least I’ll shake things up in Pocatello in an official capacity. The local PD always appreciates interference from the Feds,” Emmett wisecracked with a cutting grin. “Not.”

  Josh slapped Emmett on the back. “As long as they’re willing to give us an update on the Prentiss case, I don’t care about stepping on toes. It would be nice if Pocatello cops could share what evidence they have.”

  “Then you guys should stay in town and try to pick up a trail while I push my way in with the Pocatello PD.”

  Skye turned to Josh. “Okay with you?”

  With a nod to Emmett, Josh agreed. “The road trip’s all yours.” But to Skye he tossed out a suggestion. “I think we should go back to Lake Union.”

  “Why? The volunteers exhausted that area yesterday. It seems Stockman’s houseboat was nothing more than a fluke, some convenient place our guy spotted and dashed inside with Ashley and Kiki in tow.”

  “I don’t think so. I think he’d been there before.”

  Skye arched a brow. “Since when? You and Harry claim Stockman is clean as a whistle.”

  “I’m not talking about Stockman. At some point, I believe our killer had been there, on Stockman’s houseboat, as a guest.”

  “Well, that’s certainly a giant leap.”

  Her skeptic nature didn’t bother Josh. In fact, her doubt gave him the opportunity to talk through his rationale. “Think about it. The volunteers asked every neighbor within that private boat dock and no one remembers seeing this guy’s truck in the parking area. Not so unusual but… They simply repeat what they told the cops. They’re used to seeing Stockman come and go on occasion, like when he throws a party or two, or when he has guests stay overnight. That means whenever he entertains on the water, the neighbors expect to see the guests stay around to watch a sunrise. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary or draw attention. They’re probably used to the place sitting vacant for long stretches of time, especially in winter.”

  “So what are you saying? Stockman admitted to us he rented the place out sometimes.” The tenacious look on Josh’s face said it all. He wasn’t willing to budge off his notion. But thinking it through turned on the light bulb for Skye. “Ah. Then we should really bug Stockman for his guest list. If he gave dozens of parties over several years, or had renters come and go, he could potentially hold the key to checking out a lot of people who might otherwise slip through the net.”

  “I’m glad you’re such a confident cynic because instead of looking for holes in Stockman’s story we should…”

  “Lean on him to give us that list, appeal to the fact that he’s a long-time businessman with a certain standing in the community. He’d be doing his duty, the side that says…”

  “Use the good citizen angle. That might do the trick.”

  Emmett stretched back on the counter, clearly fascinated at the way the two finished each other’s sentences. “I’ll say it again, you guys work well together.”

  Josh looked at Emmett now. “Hard not to when we share a spirit guide. It’s a powerful link.”

  “Kiya seems to have gone silent the last couple days.” She contemplated that while slugging down the coffee from the mug she held in her hand. “Any chance her absence has anything to do with your illness?”

  “The timing is certainly curious,” Josh noted. “However if you remember, Kiya’s gone MIA before. If she doesn’t show up tonight, we’ll do our own ritual to bring her back. This spell business, did you delve into its origins with Travis?”

  “Not really. There hasn’t been time. If the hex, or whatever it is, our killer used also included getting rid of Kiya then it shows some knowledge about spirit guides. Travis thought it sounded like one of the fifty-five ancient katares, ori
ginating somewhere in the Mediterranean.”

  “You didn’t mention that before. Why am I just hearing about this now?” Josh noted.

  “As I recall, at the time, you were struggling to get through a migraine from hell and stand upright,” Skye reminded him. “Before we get too far into this, I want to go on record, again, as resisting the notion that our subject is Native.”

  She pointed a finger at Josh. “Having said that, it seems to me that both you and Kiya should have been affected by this black magic spell or curse, whatever you want to call it. Logic dictates if he wanted to go for the spirit guide angle, it should have taken both of you down at the same time. Right?”

  “You’d think.”

  “And yet, this guy’s curse doesn’t seem to have touched Kiya at the same time it hit you. Maybe that means it was aimed strictly at you. Maybe the symbolism in the backyard with the white wolf wasn’t meant for Kiya at all, but rather meant for you. You’re the white wolf.”

  Frown lines formed above Josh’s brow. “Why target me?”

  “He’s afraid of you. The wolf inside you scares him. At least that’s what I think.”

  Emmett spoke up. “That isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. It’s likely this particular unsub could have major issues with both males and females.”

  Josh tapped the keys on the nearest laptop. “Okay, if this guy does practice a black magic type of mojo, it would benefit us to know its origin, almost like a footprint to what he’s into. If Travis suspected the curse came from the Mediterranean region that would take in places like Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, and Tunisia. All those cultures practiced a belief system that included supernatural powers, the occult, and voodoo— everything from protection to putting a curse on the enemy. I’d say he intended to bring me down. And he came damned close, too. If it hadn’t been for the elders showing up, I might not be standing here right now. So whatever he used, it’s safe to say, it packed a powerful punch.”

  “Let’s not forget he hit you with a truck,” Skye tossed out.

  “So what’s the plan?” Emmett asked.

  “We narrow down what it is he used on me and we check the shops around town that cater to that specialty.”

  “Now I’m impressed,” Skye stated with a grin.

  “Who’s to say he won’t try to weave another spell, this time with more teeth to it?” Josh suggested.

  “I don’t want to think about anything stronger than a cargo van or what he used to make you sick.”

  A sudden flashback had Josh replaying the scene where he hit the pavement with his head. “Me either. But since Kiya’s missing, maybe he already has.” When he noticed Skye seemed distracted and was no longer paying attention, he added, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’ve been kicking around an idea. Is Leo here?”

  “Leo’s in the middle of a project for Todd. And Reggie was so blown away at being asked to play Santa, he went out to hunt down a red suit. He plans to wear it to surprise the Fieldings. Uh, we might want to warn Hank and Melina before Reggie shows up at the front door with his Christmas agenda.”

  The joke cracked her up and served its purpose. It cut through some of the pressure hanging in the room. “I think it’s adorable if Reggie follows through with that.”

  Josh stuck his head into the outer office. “Hey, Winston, got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  When Winston came into the room, Skye laid out her request in one abrupt statement. “Is there any way you could get me into a chat room as a buyer?”

  “What kind of chat room?”

  “The kind that sells kids.”

  Winston sucked in a breath. “Sure. Once I get you in, what is it you’re looking for exactly?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll be able to hijack a dormant buyer account. After that, I’m looking for a steady seller with an IP address somewhere near Lake Union or at least within a five-mile range of that area. If that comes up blank, we look for an alternate IP with a similar account history located farther out, using the lake as the epicenter.”

  “Okay. But what if I could do better than that? What if I could give you a phony history that a seller would trust right upfront? A user ID with multiple buys, multiple transactions that went off without a hitch.”

  “I love the way you think. That would be fantastic if you could pull it off. Thanks.”

  Winston scratched his head. “As my gran would say, it’s more like looking for a needle in a haystack but I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “I know you will. And Winston? Remember, I’m looking for that one seller in particular who advertises a local delivery so the buyer has to be within a reasonable driving distance.”

  By the look on Winston’s face, the reality of human trafficking was never more real or disgusting. “No problem. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “While Winston’s performing a minor miracle, I’ll go lean on Stockman,” Josh offered. He punched a finger in the air at Emmett. “New strategy. What about contacting the cops back in Pocatello from right here on the phone first before making the trip.” He thumbed a motion toward the outer office. “We have plenty of long distance at your disposal.”

  “Why the different tactic?”

  “Because if this thing heats up, we may need you right here in Seattle.”

  With a half laugh, Emmett cut the tension with a joke. “Then I’ll start by getting what I can out of them while sitting here on my butt. It won’t be the first time I’ve done my best investigative work sitting at a desk.”

  Laughter erupted and made for a good way to end the meeting. Because they each had their assignments, they promised to triangulate their efforts.

  Emmett got to work on the phone, dialing up the authorities out of state.

  Josh headed out to wheedle more info out of Stockman.

  And with Winston’s help, Skye spent her Friday afternoon entering the online world of sex trafficking. The young hacker had located an inactive account with the kind of history they were looking for, one she could use to pose as a buyer named Reinhold Tannenbaum.

  Peering over his shoulder, she gaped at the ID. “Tannenbaum? You’re kidding?”

  “In honor of Christmas. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “You’re a wonder, Winston, a pure wonder.”

  Pleased, the young man lapped up the praise like a sponge. “Looks like it’s an account north of here in British Columbia. It would still work. The drive from Vancouver to Seattle for a local pick up is only three hours at most. The ID was created two years ago in the hopes of buying a twelve-year-old girl in the Seattle area.”

  A sickening feeling settled in Skye’s stomach. “A horrible thought but one I need to take advantage of at the moment. You’re coming to our Christmas party on the twenty-fourth, right?” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she started a new thread in the forum, determined to engage the other members in a wordy dialogue using as many catch phrases as she could think to type.

  “I’m not much of a party-goer.”

  “Come on. Everyone else is coming. You could bring a date.”

  “Girls don’t exactly find me all that attractive,” Winston admitted from a few feet away. Sitting in front of his own screen monitoring the chat, he added, “It’s hard to believe these guys could be this vile with children.”

  “I’ve seen worse but not by much. This is the dark side of the web no one wants to talk about much.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could write a program to track these trafficking rings starting with this particular website.”

  Skye’s fingers stopped in mid-composing. “Winston, have I told you lately that you’re my hero?”

  He grinned and adjusted his glasses. “I’ve never been anyone’s hero before.”

  “You are now.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “You track this website for other buyers and I’ll see to it that a certain cute tester named Rhonda Braddock shows up at the party solo. What do you say?”


  “Really? You could do that?”

  “You bet. But after I get her there, it’s up to you to wow Rhonda.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  While Skye and Josh coordinated their energies ramping up assignments for the contingent of volunteers, the workweek came to a close for Dillard Barstow.

  Friday afternoon found him drifting further into crisis mode. He found it difficult to function without Oreias.

  Without the panther at his side, who would be left to take on the white wolf when it came to that?

  He’d had almost a week to dwell on the fact that he’d boggled the whole baby thing. Failure had never sat well with him. He also had to admit he’d underestimated Skye Cree’s dogged persistence. Aside from the botched abduction, his magic had failed to stop the white wolf. The spell had slowed Ander down somewhat, zapped his strength, but had done little to end him. He feared his second attempt had been just as ineffective. Destroying Kiya hadn’t been the main objective. Killing the dog and bringing it to his enemy’s door was supposed to weaken an adversary.

  His grandmother would not have approved.

  To be outdone by members of a Nez Perce tribe, savages really, left him feeling disappointed and humiliated.

  On top of knowing Skye’s people had managed to somehow counter the ancient curse, Josh Ander’s release from the hospital had sent Dillard crashing into a minefield of past disasters. The combination of all those things had sent him reeling. The idea of failing at anything had always made him angry.

  To boost his spirits, he pawed through his trophies—an assortment of earrings, bracelets, driver’s licenses, wallets, handbags, and datebooks. Unlike before, even those failed to make him feel any better.

  That left only one place to find solace. He opened his computer.

  As he so often did on bad days, Dillard rallied people online in the chat rooms he frequented. Logging into his favorite website as a seller, using the ID King Oreias, he encountered a few hostile buyers. Stalling the ones he’d left dangling since Thanksgiving.