Bone Dust White

by Karin Salvalaggio

  The two pills Lexxie gave him had looked harmless, but in the intervening hours, he’s passed in and out of unwanted dreams and memories. In his lucid moments he knows there is something worrying about how he feels, but his concerns fade each time he drifts off into pleasant numbness.

  Jared listens to the sharp tapping of a woman’s heels on the hard-tiled floor. He smells her before he sees her. It’s a fragrance that reminds him of a flower but he doesn’t feel confident enough to give it a name. But he’d know those heels anywhere. Somehow, Hayley’s mother has managed to find him.

  Pamela Larson is dressed in a powder blue jacket and skirt. Her blouse is white and crisply ironed and there is not a stray blond hair on her head. It’s been thirty-two years since she gave birth to Hayley and her twin sister Angie, but the only place her age shows is in her hands; they’re a contour map of raised blue veins. She gives Jared a worried smile and sits down on the edge of his narrow bed.

  “You okay?” she asks, reaching out to touch him lightly on the forearm with a chilled hand.

  Jared doesn’t know if he’s okay or not. He only wants to fall asleep again. He sits up, inching his way toward the wall, but her hand doesn’t slide away like he wants it to. He notices her nails are painted pale pink. Talons, he thinks.

  “How’s Hayley?” he asks, rubbing his damp face.

  “She’s confused. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Jared pictures his bathroom floor. He already knows too much about the blood she’s lost. “Is she awake?”

  “She’s awake and talking.”

  “What’s she saying?”

  “She’s saying what I tell her to say.” She digs her nails into Jared’s arm.

  He winces. “And what’s that?”

  “That she was upset and called you so you came and took her to the hospital.” She eases her grip and pats his arm. “You saved her life so she’s grateful.”

  “Not so sure about that.” Jared leans back and closes his eyes.

  Pamela doesn’t skip a beat. “Which part? Saving her life or her being grateful?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  Pamela rolls her eyes.

  Jared’s sluggish mind has difficulty putting together a coherent sentence. “I mean she did it because of me, and the way she fought when I tried to help makes me think she really wanted to die.”

  “That’s nonsense. If you really want to kill yourself, you don’t do it in a paramedic’s house.” She lays her hands flat on her powder blue skirt. The diamond on her wedding ring is the size of a pecan. “Brian is the reason she did it. Not you.”

  “If Brian finds out that Hayley spent the night at my place, I’m as good as dead.” Jared thinks for a slow second. “Ditto for Hayley.”

  Pamela puts her hand back on Jared’s forearm, gently this time. “Then he can’t ever find out. The police and the doctors have no reason to question our version of events. So relax. You’re a hero.”

  Jared won’t look her in the eye.

  Pamela tells him that she’s heard about what happened behind the Adamses’ house.

  “It’s been a difficult couple of days for a lot of people.”

  “Still, that’s all anyone in this town is going to be talking about.”

  “I can’t get what I saw out there out of my head,” he says, his eyes welling up. “And a day later I find Hayley on my bathroom floor.”

  “That girl Grace. She’s an interesting one. Those clothes she wears.”

  Jared can only imagine her red nightie and the scar running down her chest like a zipper. “What do you mean?”

  “She dresses like my grandmother. I imagine she smells like an old folks’ home.”

  “I don’t know how she’s managing. I’d be a wreck if I saw my own mother murdered.” Jared backtracks when he remembers he’s supposed to keep some things to himself. “I shouldn’t have said…”

  “That woman had a lot of nerve showing her face in this town after what she did to my family.” She digs her fingers into Jared’s arm again. “Do you know anything about Leanne?”

  Jared pulls away. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “They’re not rumors. That woman was a nightmare. Leaving Grace behind was the kindest thing she’s ever done for that child.”

  “She was lucky her aunt and uncle took her in.”

  “There was nothing lucky about it. Elizabeth couldn’t have children. She probably had her sights on Grace from the day she was born. I have to hand it to her though, she got what she wanted in the end.”

  “What about Hayley’s kids? Are they okay?”

  “I went and picked them up this morning. Isobel had her younger sisters up and dressed for school. She’d even made breakfast. That’s quite a lot for a nine-year-old to accomplish before nine in morning.”

  “I didn’t know,” he mumbles into his shirtsleeve, noting that the fabric feels pleasant on his cheek. “Whenever I asked after them, she’d always say her sister was staying over.”

  Pamela purses her lips. Her disappointment in her twin daughters is familiar territory for anyone who lives in Collier. “Angie’s in Chicago. She claims to have been shortlisted for a spot on the Chicago Bears cheerleading squad.”

  Jared laughs, but Pamela’s face remains immobile.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, forcing his features to mirror hers. He ends up looking lopsided.

  “Sometimes I wonder if that girl ever looks in a full-length mirror. She’s twice the size of Hayley and can barely get her fat ass off the couch to answer the phone.”

  Jared wants to sleep again. He yawns, hoping Pamela will get the hint. “I would have never let Hayley stay over if I knew the kids were on their own.”

  “A girl like Hayley, you should have checked.”

  “They might take her kids away,” he says, thinking the courts already have enough reasons to declare her an unfit mother. “Or Brian might leave her and claim full custody.”

  “We’ll lie and say they were with me.” She presses harder into her thighs. The blue-veined rivers swell on the backs of her hands. “The police will want to talk to you.”

  Jared keeps his mouth shut.

  “You okay with lying?”

  He yawns again. He thinks of asking the time but forgets. “I have to be, don’t I?” He remembers Hayley’s car and his eyes widen. “Her car is still at my place.”

  She fidgets with her phone, frustrated there’s no coverage. “I’ll deal with that. I’ll also tell everyone that her father and I cleaned up her place.”

  Jared relaxes.

  “I think Brian gets off on threatening her with losing the kids if she causes too much fuss.”

  Jared doesn’t know how many times Hayley has left her kids on their own, but he imagines it’s been every time she’s stayed over. She’s not a good liar. He should have seen through it. “She’s not exactly mother of the year.”

  Pamela’s head snaps up. “You think I don’t know that. She’s desperate, that’s all.”

  They get real quiet and Jared almost falls asleep. Pamela’s voice revives him, pulling him back into the room like a collared dog. “She should have never taken the fall for him on those drug possession charges. No judge in their right mind would give her custody of the girls.”

  “He must have bullied her into doing it. Everyone knows he’s been bringing stuff over the border for years.”

  “He would have gone to jail. Hayley could have made a clean break. I can’t believe she was so stupid.”

  “What about the physical abuse?”

  “She’s never reported it. Not once.”

  “Has anyone managed to contact Brian?”

  “When the authorities tracked him down he said he’d been ice fishing up near Calgary.”

  “You didn’t call him?”

  “We don’t talk, or rather he no longer takes my calls.”

  Jared keeps his thoughts to himself.

  She looks around the little bunker he’s sleeping in, noticing
how awful it is for the first time. “Why are you still here? You should go home.”

  “What time is it, anyway?”

  Pamela shakes her wrist so her watch sits right. “Nearly three. If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem right.”

  “I think Lexxie may have slipped me a mickey.”

  “I imagine she’s pretty angry with you.”

  “This might be a deal-breaker.”

  “Rumor is you’re planning on marrying her.”

  “My mother’s been talking too much. How she manages to spread gossip all the way from Wilmington Creek is beyond me.”

  “So it’s true.”

  “Lexxie is getting impatient and I’m not getting any younger.”

  Pamela jostles him a bit more to keep him awake. “This place is depressing. You should get out of here. I can give you a ride.”

  “Can’t quite face the mess.”

  It takes Pamela a few seconds to realize what he’s talking about. “Shoot, I didn’t think of that.” She picks up her phone and starts to scroll through her address list. “I’ve been calling in favors all over town. One more isn’t going to hurt.”

  “There are already enough people who know Hayley was at my place. Let’s not add to the list.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “This is my mess. It’s up to me to clean it up.” He sits up and rubs his face. “I’m going to have to work this evening. I need a shower and a cup of coffee.”

  “You really should go visit Hayley. She’d like to see you.”

  “I can’t risk it. Brian might be there.”

  “You’ll be fine. Brian said he won’t be back until morning.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to him.”

  Pamela hesitates. “He left a message.”

  9

  GRACE called, GRACE cried, GRACE shattered my deafness, GRACE sparkled, GRACE blazed, GRACE drove away my blindness, GRACE shed Her fragrance, and I drew in my breath, and I pant for GRACE. GRACE brought Thee down from heaven; GRACE stripped Thee of Thy glory; GRACE made Thee poor and despicable; GRACE made Thee bear such burdens of sin. Nothing whatever pertaining to godliness and real holiness can be accomplished without GRACE. One who loves a pure heart and who speaks with GRACE will have the king for a friend. It is by GRACE you have been saved. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under GRACE.

  The words covering the wall above Grace’s bed are written with a thick black marker and stand three inches high. The animal posters that once hung there have been ripped into pieces. They’re scattered on the floor, crackling underfoot. Macy spots the torn chestnut mane of a once coveted mare, its silky brown eyes no more. She steps forward in shoes sheathed in protective covers and starts reading to herself.

  A few feet away Warren clears his throat. “According to the brains down in Helena, most of the words have been lifted from the writings of Saint Augustine and John Bunyan. They’ve promised to send us the full text in the morning.”

  Macy doesn’t turn to face him when she speaks. “Did you find the pen he used?”

  “Yes, but no prints. He must have been wearing gloves. We’re pretty sure he used a pen he found here. Grace’s desk is filled with art supplies. There’s a black marker missing from a set.”

  “And aside from the office downstairs, this was the only room that was disturbed?”

  “That’s what we’re thinking, but we’ll know for certain after Grace and her aunt have a look.” With his gloved hands he picks through a stack of sketchbooks on the desk. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea bringing them up here?”

  Macy gazes out a window that overlooks the backyard. The wooded hillside is lit up with portable lights. She has told them to search the whole area again. A half-dozen police officers fan out through the trees in a single line.

  “I need Grace to make sense of what’s been written on this wall. Given her name is written sixteen times, I’m guessing it’s personal.”

  Warren checks his phone. “They should be here any minute. I’ll go downstairs to meet them.”

  “Elizabeth is pretty angry.”

  “That’s an understatement. She didn’t want us in her house and now it’s a crime scene.”

  “I don’t want her up here. I think Grace will be less inhibited on her own.”

  “I’ll get Elizabeth started downstairs. She’s gonna have a fit when she sees the mess in the office.” Warren tilts his head toward the wall. “I wasn’t expecting to find something like this.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “It makes me wonder if Grace was the intended target all along.”

  “The fact that Leanne is stabbed to death her first day back in Collier in eleven years is too much of a coincidence to ignore. What happened out in the woods was definitely about Leanne.” She points to the wall. “This, however, is about Grace.”

  “So he wants to kill her too?”

  “Perhaps, but this looks more like something a stalker would do.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Warren turns to go but stops. “By the way, you should have a look at Grace’s sketchbooks. It’s not just drawings. There’s a lot of writing. Poetry, stuff like that.”

  “Thanks, Warren, I’ll go through them when I get a chance.”

  Macy climbs up onto the bed and stands with her arms stretched high. The first two lines of text are well out of reach of her fingertips. The bed is made of solid oak and there are no drag marks in the carpet, which would indicate it was recently moved. The killer would have had to stand on the bed. She steps away and inspects the writing carefully. The lines are almost perfectly straight and the curves consistently uniform. It doesn’t look like any handwriting she’s ever seen before. He took his time. There are no spelling mistakes. The grammar is perfect. Reading Grace’s name comes too easily; GRACE strikes Macy in the eyes over and over again. The wall demands her attention. GRACE, it hisses. He wrote her name sixteen times. GRACE.

  Aside from the window and desk, there’s a closet, two large bookcases, a chest of drawers, and a full-length mirror framed with delicate fairy lights. Macy runs her eyes over the books, stuffed animals, and dolls and is struck by everything that is missing. There is no laptop, television, or phone. The only hint that Grace might be a teenager is a modest stash of CDs and a small radio. There’s only one photo sitting on the chest of drawers. Macy picks it up. Elizabeth, Arnold, and Grace stand in front of Mount Rushmore. Grace must have been around ten years old. She squints into the camera.

  Macy pulls open drawers one by one. The contents are carefully folded. Grace’s undergarments are the only things that appear to have been disturbed. Macy reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out an evidence bag before plucking a silver strand of hair from where it is caught on the clasp of a bra. She holds it up to the light. It’s a couple of inches long so it could belong to Elizabeth. She puts it into the bag and rummages around but she can’t find anything else of interest. She closes the drawer and shifts her attention to a tube of lipstick sitting next to the framed photo.

  She pulls off the cap. The color is blood red, and it’s hardly been used. There’s a plastic bag from Collier Drug Store. Along with more cosmetics there’s a bottle of hand lotion and a box of tampons inside. Macy unfolds the receipt. None of the cosmetics are listed and the date indicates it’s a recent purchase. She pictures Grace walking along the aisles filling her pockets with blusher and mascara while her aunt stands in line at the pharmacy filling Grace’s prescription for immunosuppressants.

  Warren knocks on the half-open door and Macy steps out into the hallway. Grace doesn’t look well. Her skin has a yellowish tint, and she casts her eyes about nervously. She’s propped up between Warren and Jared, but leans more heavily on Jared. Jared sways on his feet, and they almost topple like bowling pins. Macy takes Grace firmly by the elbow and guides her into the bedroom.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, Grace, but I need your help.”
She looks the young woman in the eye. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?”

  Grace’s chin bobs up and down silently.

  “You just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”

  Grace catches sight of the writing over Macy’s shoulder and hesitates. “My mother’s killer did that?”

  “We think he broke in last night.”

  Grace can’t take her eyes off the wall. Her mouth moves with the words but she makes no sound. Halfway through she starts to tremble. By the time she’s finished she’s crying.

  Macy continues to hold Grace’s arm. “Grace, does this mean anything to you?”

  Instead of answering, Grace slips from Macy’s grip, collapsing into a heap on the floor.

  Jared kneels down next to her. “Warren, could you go get Carson?”

  Macy catches Warren’s eye. “Elizabeth doesn’t need to know about this.”

  Jared elevates Grace’s legs and takes her pulse.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I think so.” He looks up at the wall and Macy can see his eyes trace across the lines. “Why did you bring her here? Couldn’t you have just shown her a photograph?”

  “Jared, please don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  Carson follows Warren into the room.

  “What have we got here?”

  “I’m pretty sure she fainted.” Jared pats Grace on the cheeks and calls her name several times.

  Carson sets his bag down on the floor. “Did she hit her head on anything?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  Grace opens her eyes and blinks a few times.

  Jared almost smiles. “Hey, Grace. You okay?”