River of Bones

by Dan Padavona

  She edged the door shut and returned to the office, hurrying when the phone rang. She answered on the fourth ring and was surprised by Scout Mourning’s voice on the other line. Scout had lost her ability to walk after a car accident. The girl and her mother, Naomi, lived on the lake road next door to Thomas Shepherd.

  “Hey, Scout. I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

  “Hi, Raven. I was wondering if you talked to Mr. Shepherd about tomorrow’s cookout. He’s supposed to host with LeVar at the guest house. But since the news broke about that dead person in the state park, I figured he would cancel the cookout.”

  Last month, Thomas and Darren started a new tradition. They gathered their friends for a barbecue once per week, alternating between the state park and the sheriff’s spacious lakeside yard. It was funny how much Raven looked forward to burgers, steaks, and macaroni salad on a summer afternoon.

  “It’s still on, as far as I know.”

  “My mom is heading to the store this afternoon and wants to bake a pie. But it won’t be as tasty as the ones your mom makes.”

  “Thanks, Scout. I’ll tell my mother how much you enjoy her baking. That will make her day. I haven’t spoken to Thomas today. But I’m eating dinner with Ranger Holt after work. He’ll know if the cookout is on.”

  “Okay, great.”

  A pause.

  “Scout, is there something else you wanted to ask?”

  “I’ve been talking to LeVar about the bones the sheriff found. Since LeVar is enrolling in a criminal justice course at the community college this fall, he wants me to show him how I catch criminals on the internet.”

  Raven covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She couldn’t picture her eighteen-year-old brother, four months removed from running the streets with the Harmon Kings, playing Scooby Doo with the wheelchair-bound girl next door. Raven gave Scout her due. The teenager belonged to an amateur sleuthing website called Virtual Searchers, and her research helped catch Jeremy Hyde in April. The girl had a future in law enforcement, possibly as an FBI profiler.

  “You know Sheriff Shepherd doesn’t approve of you researching murder cases without your mother’s permission.”

  “I understand. That’s why I’m calling. I figure LeVar and I can share our research, and if you think it’s worthwhile, you can bring it to the sheriff’s department.”

  Raven tapped her nails against the desk. They were pearl-blue this month, the color of fairytale moonlight.

  “Tell you what. Talk to your mother and get permission first. Then we’ll discuss combining forces on this investigation of yours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything before you talk to your mother.”

  “I promise.”

  “All right, Scout. After I speak with Darren, we’ll let you know about the cookout.”

  She wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Collaborating with Scout and LeVar? As humorous as it sounded, it would be a welcome change from the daily stress of investigative work and dealing with Chelsey.

  Which reminded her.

  Before she talked herself out of it, Raven picked up the phone and dialed Chelsey’s number. Raven convinced herself her boss wouldn’t answer. As she lowered the phone, Chelsey’s groggy voice came through the speaker.

  “Chelsey, is everything all right? It’s after ten.”

  Chelsey mumbled something indecipherable. It sounded like she was still asleep.

  “Hey, Chelsey. Do you need me to come get you?”

  “No…no…I’m just a little sick this morning. I hate to do this to you, but you’ll have to run the office today.”

  Sick again. This was the third time this month her best friend blew off work.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t, it’s nothing. Whatever it is, I’ll get over it.”

  “Do you have a cold or something?”

  Raven could hear Chelsey forming a lie.

  “I’m pretty sure it was something I ate. My stomach is a mess, and my head is killing me.”

  Checking the time, Raven grabbed her keys off the desk.

  “I’m coming over to check on you.”

  “No!” Chelsey snapped awake, the grogginess replaced by anger and desperation. “You don’t need to parent me. I ate something I shouldn’t have, and I’ll deal with it.”

  “Just like you’re dealing with Wolf Lake Consulting? This is your business, Chelsey. Your desk is overflowing with cases, you’re never here, and you still haven’t hired a third investigator.”

  “Just give me twenty-four hours to kick this sickness. I’ll take care of everything, I swear.”

  Raven buried her face in her hand. She hadn’t meant to corner Chelsey. But the pressure kept building. Either Chelsey turned away clients, or she showed up for work and stopped dropping the load on Raven’s shoulders.

  “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  “For what? So he can tell me to buy Tylenol and Pepto Bismol? I’m better off resting at home.”

  “I picked up another client at the state park yesterday. If I don’t hear from you tomorrow, I won’t have any choice but to turn away new clients.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be in at nine.”

  “Okay, Chelsey. Please call me if you need help. And swear to me you’ll visit the doctor if your sickness worsens.”

  “I will.”

  Raven didn’t believe her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tuesday, August 10th

  10:15 a.m.

  Thomas hadn’t prepared for the circus that awaited him outside the coroner’s office. The moment he stopped the cruiser along the curb, three reporters flanked by men with broadcast video cameras on their shoulders rushed across the sidewalk. He lowered his head and made a beeline for the entrance doors. But they ran beside him and blocked his path, shoving microphones in front of his face. A middle-aged man with gleaming, white teeth and a thick mustache jostled his way to the front.

  “What do you know about the body found in the state park? Is it Skye Feron?”

  A woman in high heels shouldered the man aside.

  “Is there another serial killer in Wolf Lake? Should people be afraid?”

  They fired questions as he pushed toward the doors. Once inside, they wouldn’t be allowed to follow. When he lowered his head, a baritone-voiced reporter yelled from behind.

  “Are you fit to serve as interim Sheriff? How can someone on the autism spectrum protect Nightshade County?”

  The question stung. He wanted to wheel around and shout the man down. But that’s what the reporter wanted—the new sheriff’s face plastered on every television screen in the county, screaming like a lunatic.

  He released his breath when the doors closed behind him. Their fists pounded the glass. The yelling blended together into an indecipherable cacophony.

  Virgil and Claire waited outside the examination room. The medical examiner raised a hand and motioned Thomas to follow. Shiny metal tables stood in neat rows. Dr. Stone was here with her female graduate assistant.

  “So glad you joined us this morning,” Dr. Stone said.

  Thomas caught the impatience in her voice.

  “What can you tell me about the victim?”

  Dr. Stone swept her arm over the table. Together with her team, she’d cleaned the bones and rebuilt the skeleton. Thomas was impressed.

  “After reconstructing the skull from seventy pieces, I can say with certainty the victim is female. Note the smooth skull and wide pelvis, also the jaw structure.”

  “Age?”

  “Molar eruption suggests late teens to middle twenties.”

  Thomas groaned. This had to be Skye Feron.

  “Do we know how she died, or how long she was in the ground?”

  “Bones decay slower beneath the soil than organic material. Judging by the amount of degradation, I’d guess this woman died between five and ten years ago. We’re fortunate animals didn’t compromise the
remains.”

  Virgil stepped forward and noted a hole cutting through the skull. At first glance, Thomas mistook the hole as missing bone fragments. Closer inspection told him this was an entry wound.

  “The victim received a sharp blow to the head, indicating perimortem injury. It punctured the skull and killed her.”

  “So a bullet wound.”

  Virgil glanced at Claire and Dr. Stone. The doctor shook her head.

  “A bullet would have caused further damage to the skull. This was a sharp object capable of puncturing bone.”

  Thomas scratched his chin.

  “What kind of weapon am I looking for?”

  The doctor’s mouth pulled tight as she reached into the bag of field tools.

  “Something like this.”

  Stone held up a pickax.

  * * *

  Darren propped his feet on an ottoman and relaxed on the couch. Through the windows outside his cabin, the trees swayed as the wind gusted off the hills. An hour ago, the campgrounds had been alive with the voices of children and parents eager to hike the many trails weaving through Wolf Lake State Park. Now it was tranquil, and Darren felt thankful for the opportunity to relax.

  He twisted the cap off his water bottle as he chewed on the peanut butter protein bar—Raven’s personal recipe for building muscle and cutting fat. It was better than he expected, and he craved a second bar with lunch. A horn honked as a camper pulled out of the lot, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Soon the busy season would end. He’d be lucky to host a camper once the snow flew in November.

  Darren had spent the morning trimming brush along the ridge trail. Since the forensic anthropologist left, he’d avoided Lucifer Falls and the creek. The scenic terrain was tainted now, and would remain so until they caught the killer. He set the water aside. With Raven working at Wolf Lake Consulting today, his schedule was open until she left work. He looked forward to spending the rest of the day with her—dinner with Serena at Raven’s house, then back to the cabin for a little private time. Glancing around the cabin, he realized the interior could use cleaning.

  As he straightened the couch cover, footsteps stopped outside his window. Years spent as a beat cop in Syracuse heightened his senses. This didn’t sound like a mischievous kid peeking inside the ranger’s cabin. The footsteps were too heavy for a child, and the person lingered along the wall, spying on Darren. Quietly, he shifted his body along the wall and pushed the curtain back. Nothing but green grass stretched back to the trees.

  A shadow rushed across cabin two. He swung in front of the window and spotted a male figure. The stranger plunged into the forest and raced down the hill, cutting between the trails. Darren grabbed his keys and ran after the man. He’d only glimpsed the fleeing figure and couldn’t say if the man was young or middle age. Whoever the man was, he ran like the wind. The figure was a hundred yards ahead of the ranger and pulling away as Darren pushed through a knot of branches.

  The forest flew past in a blur. His chest tightened as he sucked air into his lungs. Halfway to the lake trail, he stopped and leaned over with his hands on his knees, chest heaving. Stopping amid the gloomy forest, he listened for footsteps. He’d lost the man.

  Was this the thief who pilfered two-hundred dollars from Paul Phipps’s wife?

  Or had he glimpsed the Lucifer Falls killer?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tuesday, August 10th

  12:30 p.m.

  Thomas peeled the wrapper open and stared at the soggy sandwich. Meat and onions spilled out between the bread, and there was more dressing on the wrapper than on the sandwich. He groaned. This was the last time he’d buy lunch from the new sandwich shop in the village center. He took one bite, chewed, and twisted his mouth. The rest of lunch ended up in the trash.

  Wiping his hands clean, he poured over his case notes and located Sheriff Gray’s number. He hadn’t spoken to his mentor since the abrupt retirement two weeks ago, after Gray derided himself for suspecting Father Josiah Fowler in the angel of mercy killings.

  “Sheriff Shepherd,” Gray said with a grin in his voice. Thomas smiled. Gray hadn’t sounded this chipper in years. “How’s my office treating you?”

  “Terrific. I trust you’re enjoying retirement.”

  “I’m loving every minute. Last week, I walked along the river for three hours, and I haven’t set my alarm since my last day at the department.”

  “We’d love to see you again.”

  “Bah, you don’t want me puttering around the office, offering suggestions and making a nuisance of myself.”

  “Just a heads up. A group of us get together for dinner every week. Right now, it’s me and Darren Holt running the show. I can’t convince Aguilar to come. She’s been weird since…well, you know.”

  “Since you became sheriff.”

  “Right.”

  “Let me tell you about Deputy Aguilar. She’ll roast the hell out of her fellow deputies. But she respects authority, and you’re the new sheriff in town, so to speak. Give her time to grow comfortable with the changes.”

  Gray’s words rang true. Maybe Thomas was pressing Aguilar. He couldn’t force his deputy to let her guard down and act as if nothing had changed.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. The gang would love to have you over for dinner. It’s no big deal, just a small gathering and barbecue on the grill.”

  “Now you’re talking. Give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

  “How about tomorrow at five-thirty? You know where my uncle’s old place is.”

  Thomas had purchased his Uncle Truman’s old A-Frame after he moved from Los Angeles to Wolf Lake.

  “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring the porterhouse.”

  “That’s unnecessary. You’re our guest.”

  “No, I insist. Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason you called?”

  Thomas snickered.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I worked in that department longer than you’ve been alive, Thomas. I’m pretty good at reading people.”

  “You’ve probably read about the bones by now.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m worried we found Skye Feron.”

  Gray turned silent for a second.

  “I was afraid of that. Are you sure it’s her?”

  “It’s a female in her late teens or early twenties. We brought a forensic anthropologist in to excavate the bones and help Virgil make a determination. Until she spends more time studying the bones, we won’t be able to say with certainty it’s Skye. What do you remember about the investigation?”

  “Everything,” Gray said, the tenor of his voice sinking. “Sometimes it feels like the investigation happened yesterday. You weren’t around during those years, Thomas. The case tore the village apart. We’d lost one of our own, and a popular girl at that. Skye Feron ran varsity track for Wolf Lake High, she sang in the church choir, and she volunteered at the humane shelter.”

  “Sounds a little too perfect.”

  “Everyone hides a skeleton in the closet. Sorry, poor choice of words. From what I recall, Skye hung out with two cheerleaders—Paige Sutton and Justine Adkins. I interviewed them after Skye disappeared. Skye was supposed to meet Paige and Justine the night she vanished.”

  “Did she have a boyfriend?”

  “A boy named Benny Pritchard. We checked him out. Benny was in Bangor with his parents that week. He’s clean.”

  “Did Skye cancel the meeting or act like something was wrong?”

  “Not according to the girls. But I didn’t trust the two friends, especially Paige Sutton. They were hiding something, and I never figured out what, despite grilling them in front of their parents. All Justine did was cry, and Paige went stoic, as if nothing was wrong. Paige acted like Skye would show her face in a few days. That never happened.”

  “What makes you believe Justine and Paige were holding back on you?”

  “They were evasive. Wouldn’t meet my eye when I questioned t
hem. Whatever happened, it had to do with school. I’m positive of that.”

  “Did they make an enemy, someone who’d hurt Skye?”

  “That was my guess. But why protect someone who posed danger to them?”

  “Could be a broken friendship.”

  Gray grunted.

  “Cliques have been around forever. But I’ve never seen a clique lead to murder. My advice? Start with the friends. Paige Sutton is still in Wolf Lake. I’m not sure what became of Justine Adkins. By now, the girls must have heard about the bones. That might be enough to get them talking. Thomas, how’s your father doing?”

  Thomas dropped his eyes as if Gray was lecturing him from across the table. He called his parents every few nights. But Mason always wanted to discuss the business instead of his health. Thomas played along, shielding himself from the sadness.

  “Time is short, Sheriff.”

  “Make amends while there’s time. Take it from me. There are so many things I wish I’d said to Lana, and now I can’t.”

  “I understand.”

  “Go to your father. Don’t live with regret.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tuesday, August 10th