Macy knocks twice. “So who’s Sam?” she says in a voice that is not from Collier.
Not waiting for an answer, Macy closes the door behind her and walks across the floor in her flat black boots. Making an exaggerated groan she leans over and picks up a pink teddy bear with a bandaged forehead from the floor. She turns it over in her hands before placing it on the bed next to Grace. She pokes through the get-well cards on the side table, picking one up and scrutinizing the message on the front cover. All the while she’s observing Grace from the corner of her eye. The girl’s dark eyes follow her every move, but she never once changes her pale expression. Macy decides she looks like a doll.
“There’s an old guy named Sam out there looking for someone named George,” Macy says by way of explanation. With difficulty she settles down in the vacant chair.
Grace stares at her. “Do I know you?”
Macy only says, “Not yet,” before pulling a small notebook from her bag. She takes a pen out of the breast pocket of her blazer.
“Are you a reporter or something?”
“No, but I am something.” She looks directly at Grace. “You haven’t been talking to reporters, have you?”
“No, ma’am. I haven’t been talking to anyone.”
Macy pulls a bifold wallet out of her jacket pocket and flips it open. It’s a man’s wallet and it’s well worn. Macy shows Grace the police badge. Grace reaches out and touches it, running her fingertips along the design stamped into the metal. Macy notes that Grace’s nails are chipped and bitten to the quick. She is not so changed after all.
“Just like in the movies. You see what it says here?” She points to the engraved inscription.
“Detective,” reads Grace. Her eyes widen and Macy notices how she backs away a fraction. “You’re a detective?”
“Yes, I’m a special investigator for the state. My name is Detective Greeley but you can call me Macy.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“I am.”
Grace tilts her head to the side. “You’re not from around here.”
“I’m normally down in Helena but I’ve got a nice room at the Collier Motor Lodge I’m calling home for the time being. Have you ever been to Helena?”
Grace lowers her voice. “The hospital there is much nicer than this one.”
Macy doesn’t disagree. Collier County Hospital seems like the sort of place people come to die. “I’ve got a few questions.”
“About what happened?”
Macy flips through her notebook until she finds a blank page. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I met you eleven years ago just after your mother left town. I was investigating the deaths of four young women. They would have been about the age you are now. Are you sure you don’t remember?”
“Did you ever catch the men who killed them?”
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped trying.”
Grace places her hands palm down on her lap. “Sam was the head janitor here for thirty-three years but he’s retired now.”
“He didn’t seem very retired to me.”
Grace almost smiles. “That’s because he couldn’t stand being away. From what I’ve heard, he practically lives at the hospital now.”
“Is he still the janitor?”
She makes a face. “I think he’s a bit of everything. He helps out whenever they need him.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“Sometimes he gets on your nerves but I think most people are fond of him.”
“Your doctors say you had a panic attack yesterday. They had to sedate you. Are you feeling better now?”
Grace nods.
“You’re sure?”
Grace looks toward the door. “Shouldn’t my aunt be here with me?”
Macy folds her hands on her lap and looks Grace in the eye. “Grace, you’re nearly eighteen.”
Grace focuses straight ahead and grips the bedsheets. “I didn’t know him. The man who attacked my mother, I didn’t know him.”
“We found the car your mother drove. Canadian plates but it’s not registered to her.” Macy has spoken to the Canadian authorities. She’ll make a trip over the border if anything interesting comes up about the owner.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. It just means we have to work a bit harder trying to figure out where she’s been all these years. There is a possibility her return is somehow linked to her murder.”
Grace fidgets with the tubes stuck into her arm.
Macy speaks softly. “Did she say anything?”
“She didn’t say anything important.”
“After eleven years? You’d think she’d have something to say.”
“She said she loved me and she was sorry for being away.”
Macy takes Grace’s hand and squeezes it. “But Grace, that is important. Had she been in touch at all?”
“She always sent me money on my birthdays.” Grace presses a tissue to her eyes and rocks back and forth. “It had been so long I didn’t recognize her.”
“There was probably a good reason for her to stay away all these years. Do you remember anything about the night she left?”
“I’ve never understood any of it. I don’t know why she left without me. I don’t understand why she never came back.” Grace’s hands begin to shake.
Before continuing Macy gives Grace a few minutes to calm down. “Did your mother say anything about the man who attacked her?”
Grace stares off into the distance and remains silent.
“Grace,” says Macy, waving a hand in the airspace between them when Grace’s eyes start to droop. “You in there somewhere?” Dr. Gibson had warned her that Grace had a tendency to fall asleep when she was stressed. There’s nothing really wrong with her, she said. We’re sure it’s just a defense mechanism.
“I don’t like trying to remember,” says Grace.
“Just start by telling me what happened earlier that morning. We’ll slowly work our way toward the difficult part,” says Macy, making notes in neat little rows.
Grace lowers her gaze and speaks in a monotone. She tells Macy that she cleaned up the kitchen after her aunt left for work. “I made breakfast for her. She’s been so busy looking after me I decided it would be nice to do something for her. I usually don’t have much energy in the mornings.”
“Did you hear the garbage truck come?”
“Yeah, but by then I was up in my room getting dressed.”
Macy stops her. “When they found you in the woods you were only wearing a red baby-doll nightie. Why was that? Were you expecting someone?”
“When I went outside I was wearing my kimono. It’s long and it covers everything.”
“Kimono?”
“It belonged to my mother. I like to wear it sometimes.”
Macy makes some notes. “Where is it?”
“Out in the woods; I used it to try to stop the bleeding.”
“It’s out in the woods?”
“I saw the paramedics throw it to one side. There are keys to the back doors and the garden gate in the pocket.”
Macy raises a hand and asks her to hold that thought. She pulls out her cell phone and barks instructions. The woods and the house need to be checked. They should be looking for a key and a silk kimono. She repeats the word “kimono” several times and then spells it for whoever is listening. She also tells them to dust the back gate for fingerprints if they haven’t already.
Macy’s voice is gentle when she speaks again. “Sorry about that, Grace. The missing keys worry me.” She checks her notes. “So, you saw everything from the window up in your room.”
Grace presses her fingertips to her eyes and bends forward. “I’m not sure why I looked out the window.”
“Did you hear something?”
“Maybe. I might have just seen something move. Sometimes we get elk moving alo
ng the hillside beyond the back gate.”
“Do you know what time this was?”
“A little after ten, I guess. I wasn’t really keeping track.”
“Who did you see first?”
“My mother. She was walking through the trees real slowly. She was stooped over and looked really old.”
“You didn’t recognize her?”
“I just figured she was a vagrant, living in one of the empty houses in my neighborhood.”
Macy arches an eyebrow. “It’s not really a neighborhood if you don’t have neighbors.”
“Sometimes at night I can see their fires.”
“Well, it’s been cold and they’ve got no place to go.”
“That’s what my aunt says.”
“The police are searching all the houses and clearing them out.”
“They’ll be back.”
“Do you often get homeless coming to the house?”
“Sometimes, but we don’t give them anything. There are too many. My aunt and I volunteer down at the mission instead.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“My aunt is the one who is kind. I just go along because I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“When did you see the man?”
Grace turns away and looks out the window. The whites of her eyes look raw under the lamplight. “He was hard to see at first.”
“Why’s that?”
“He was wearing a camouflage coat. He was practically standing in front of my mother when I first saw him.”
“So he didn’t look homeless.”
“No,” she said, her eyes widening. “He was wearing proper winter gear. His hat had earflaps and his face was covered.”
“Did he wear a ski mask?”
“I think it was black.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not really, I couldn’t see his face.”
“What about his build?”
“He was tall, possibly stocky, but with the big coat on it’s hard to be sure. He was much taller than my mother. He towered over her.”
“Did he move in any particular way? For instance, did he have a limp?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Was he carrying any flowers?”
Grace places her fingertips to her throat and holds them there. For a few seconds she says nothing. She stutters when she speaks again. “I don’t. I don’t remember anything like that. Why?”
Macy looks at her notes. “It’s just something we found. It may be unrelated.”
“I thought the man and my mother knew each other.” Grace describes how they’d faced each other in the woods. “They might have even said a few words. I’m not sure. It happened so quickly. My mother backed away and started screaming. He went up the hill after her.”
“When did you realize it was your mom?”
Grace looks away again. “When he attacked her she screamed my name. I wasn’t sure at that point but I had to find out.”
“So you went out looking for her?”
Grace says a quiet yes.
“You had no shoes and were only wearing a silk kimono and a baby-doll nightie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You must see how crazy that sounds.”
“I could hear her moaning. I couldn’t just leave her out there on her own.”
“Weren’t you frightened that the man who attacked your mother was still around?”
Grace blinks for the first time. “I saw him disappear over the ridge. He was long gone by the time I went out in the garden.”
“It was still pretty brave to go out there.”
“That’s what Jared said.”
“I interviewed him. He said he spoke to you.”
Graces slips a dark knitted cap between her fingers. “He gave me his hat.”
“That’s sweet,” says Macy, making a note to tell Jared to watch himself.
They both look up to see Lexxie standing in the doorway. Macy keeps her voice low. “Doesn’t anyone knock around here?”
Lexxie gestures toward Grace. “Excuse me, I’ve got a few things to do in here.”
Macy flashes her badge. “We’re in the middle of something. Can you come back in half an hour?”
Lexxie gives Grace a little wave and heads out the door, promising she’ll be back soon.
“She’s one of the nice ones,” says Grace.
“Aren’t they all supposed to be nice?”
“Not to me they’re not.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“My mother mostly.”
“Your mother has been gone for eleven years. You would have thought they’d have moved on by now.”
“Collier never moves on.”
Macy keeps her eyes on Grace. “Well, at any rate, it’s good to know Jared is with someone nice.”
“What do you mean?”
Macy tilts her head toward the door. “Lexxie is Jared’s girlfriend.”
Grace hands tighten around the cap. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do.” Macy seesaws her pen with her fingers. “Did you know the fire trail behind your house ends at Dray Creek Lane?”
“Until the day before yesterday I’d never been on the trail.”
“No matter. Anyway, there’s evidence that a car was parked near the trailhead. There’s a nice big rectangle where the snow isn’t quite as deep as everywhere else. Went out and found it myself. So I’m thinking the killer parked there and then hiked the rest of the way to your house. It’s only a little over a mile.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m asking myself the same question. No one uses the road much except during hunting season. He would have been confident he could come and go unseen. We’re clearing away the snow and looking for tire tracks. Who knows what we might find?”
Macy picks up her phone again, scrolling through the numbers to find the one she needs. “Hello, Colin. This is Detective Macy Greeley. We spoke earlier.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I need you to track down the sketch artist. His name is Robert and I think he’s hanging out down in the cafeteria. I’m just finishing so bring him up here in ten minutes.”
“Is he the guy who looks like a liberal?”
“Yeah, but try to be nice to him anyway.”
Macy hangs up and gives Grace a friendly smile. “I know you said you didn’t see him very well, but Robert is good at what he does. He can probably help you remember details you’ve forgotten.”
Grace shrugs.
Macy looks at her notes. “I’ve got it written here that your uncle ran a trucking company? Cross Border Trucking?”
“Yes, ma’am. We didn’t find out until after he died that things weren’t going too well.”
“Your doctor told me that your uncle was against you having the operation.”
“I guess he had his reasons.”
“Didn’t you find it a little odd?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so.”
“You’re lucky your aunt didn’t feel the same way.”
Grace runs her palms downward across her face, eventually making two tight little fists, which she rests against her chin. “I’m not feeling so lucky these days.”
“Were you close to your uncle?”
“We used to go on camping trips together. He was always very protective of me.”
“And yet he didn’t want you to have a lifesaving operation? Strange.” Macy pulls out a business card and places it on Grace’s lap. “You’re to call me if you remember anything new.”
“Do you think you’ll find him?”
“I hope so. I seem to have a knack for finding people. That’s why they’ve brought me up from Helena.” Macy rises from her chair.
“I think my mother rang the front doorbell.”
Macy bites her lip. “What makes you say that?”
“When I was up in my room it rang several times, but I was on my own in the house
so I ignored it.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But not so lucky.”
“No,” Macy admits. “Not so lucky.”
Macy leaves Grace with the sketch artist and slips into the hospital chapel for privacy. Warren answers on the third try.
“Sorry, it’s a bit hectic over here.”
“Please tell me you found the house keys.”
“I wish that were the case. As far as we can tell the killer used them to get into the house last night.”
Macy starts pacing between the pews. “What’s been taken?”
“We’re not sure, but Arnold Lamm’s office has been thoroughly searched. It looks like an entire file cabinet has been cleaned out. Then upstairs in Grace’s room there’s been some vandalism.”
“What do you mean by vandalism?”
“There’s a fairly strange message written on the wall. A forensics team arrives any minute. I’ll have them get started immediately.”
Macy slumps down in a pew and stares up at the cross above the altar. “This is a major screwup.”
“Not our finest hour. I was out there searching the hillside along with everyone else. I don’t know how we could have missed it.”
“Stranger still is that the killer thought to come back for it.”
“He might have stuck around for longer than we realized.”
“At this point there’s no way of knowing. He may have just got lucky.” She looks at her watch. “I’m going to speak to Grace’s doctors. It makes sense for her and her aunt to come have a look. They can tell us if anything is missing.”
“Elizabeth isn’t going to take the news well.”
“I imagine not. I’ll call you when I have a better idea when I can head up there. In the meantime, let me know if you find anything.”
“Will do,” he says before ending the call.
8
Jared stares at the low basement ceiling and watches the tail end of the fluorescent lights blink on and off. His eyes follow a line of exposed piping and he counts three disused fire sprinklers. Cobwebs hang off thickly wrapped cables like tinsel that’s lost its shine. The narrow bed where he’s been sleeping in fits and starts is hidden in the back corner of the men’s locker room, a concrete wall to one side and the backside of a bank of lockers along the other. Unwelcome images have run through his dreams in loops, doubling back to overtake him just as he thinks he’s broken free. A discarded shoe and a red stain in the snow—that’s how he found Grace and her mother. That’s what he saw. His dreams of Hayley are more frantic. No matter what he does, the gauze he uses to wrap her wrists keeps falling apart like wet tissue. He can’t stop the bleeding.
Bone Dust White Page 9
