His Garden of Bones (Skye Cree Book 4) (24 page)

T
heir last mission of the day was to hit the streets. The sun had already gone down. Traffic had thinned out. As Josh and Skye patrolled their beat they enjoyed the stunning view of the downtown Seattle skyline. It was a perfect evening except for one thing.

Kiya had been a no-show.

Roaming back alleyways and over concrete viaducts that night, the wolf’s absence was worrisome to both, but it was hardly the first time. Kiya would appear when they needed her. They had to believe that.

While they weaved through landscaped greenbelts, the subject matter turned to Josh’s probe into the
Pridewin Star
.

“You’re talking about the bones of children,” Skye said in horror. “You’re saying this steamship went down, this
Pridewin Star
, more than a century ago and carried children slated for cheap labor in the mining camps?”

“It was a different time back then. Poor families often relied on their kids to bring in extra income by sending them away to work wherever they could get a job, boys especially. Many were children of immigrants and not missed. Bayliss believes these bones belong to males between the ages of six and thirteen. He’s confirmed a few sets already.”

“The age certainly fits your theory. But it’s sad to think that even if the boat hadn’t gone down those kids were headed for a life of unimaginable hardship. We should find a way to honor them in some way.”

“Like the commemorative plaque that marks the spot where the
Dix
went down? Good idea. But Bayliss still has some convincing to do with skeptics in the area. Some people don’t want to be reminded about using kids as cheap labor. That’s one reason he called in a forensic archaeologist from California State at Chico to verify the age of the bones.”

“I’m in the Bayliss camp. That man’s like a terrier with a pork chop. He won’t let go of a theory until he’s down for the count. By the way, have you heard from Hank or Melina? We’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to check on them.”

“Want to swing by and say hi?”

“I’m sure this time of night the baby’s fast asleep.”

“So that’s the only reason you’d want to stop by? To see the baby?”

“You know me too well.  That little boy is so cute. I could easily think up a reason to drop in every other day, but I don’t want to be viewed as a pesky landlord.”

Josh found that funny before turning serious. “We could adopt one of our own. Although sometimes I wonder just who in their right mind would bring a baby into the mix we call our lives.” 

Skye stopped walking. “You mean because mommy and daddy would go out every night to face down bad men? Need I point out to you that there are lots of mommies and daddies who are in the same boat? They’re called members of law enforcement, otherwise known as cops. They often go out and encounter the criminal element every day.”

Hope rocketed up inside him. “So you’re saying we need to think of this as routine, a normal occurrence that couples face who have dangerous jobs? That we could work out the logistics of such a daily event if we went the adoption route?”

“That’s a wordy way of saying it, but yeah. We could find a way if we really wanted to do it.”

Josh steered her around a homeless man asleep at the entrance to the alleyway. At least he hoped the man was still breathing. It was hard to tell. “You can’t even say it,” Josh pointed out.

“Say what?”

“Become parents. We could find a way to become parents.”

She huffed out a deep breath, making a mini fog form in the chilly night air. “I guess the prospect of becoming parents is daunting. I could easily panic about the idea if I thought about it long enough.”

To lighten up the mood, she added, “But that’s silly when what I need to be concerned about right this minute is having eighty people over to our house on Christmas Eve. You do realize I need a party planner in the worst way. Where will I get one at the last minute? Someone with a flair for red and green.”

“That’s it.” He grabbed her close. “We’ll hire one. We’ll do a theme. Everything in red and green colors including what the guests wear.”

“Like a costume party for Christmas?”

“Yep. We’ll see how creative our family and friends get when they have to dress in costumes. We’ll make it mandatory at the door. Anyone wanting to get in has to have on some outrageous getup with the required color combo. Anyone not wearing red or green pays a tribute at the door to the charity of their choice.”

“Like an entry fee. I like it. There’s just one small problem. I don’t see Travis coming as an elf.” She tossed out a quiet laugh at the idea of her father in green pants and a red shirt, more in relief that they’d moved on beyond the adoption topic. “Hmm, we’ll need to recruit a Santa Claus. You know who’d make a good one? Reggie Bechtol.”

“Reggie? Because he’s a tad on the pudgy side?”

“No, of course not. It’s his personality. Did you know he offered to play Santa for Alec Fielding? Reggie found out the family was having a rough time of it and took up a collection among the programmers to buy them a Christmas tree. The guy has such a good heart.”

“Okay, I’ll ask him. Speaking of a tree, we need to get one.”

“It’ll have to go on the list. We’re running out of time.”

Josh knew they were no longer speaking about the Christmas season. “Then we need to up our game.”

I
nside the little kitchenette at the Artemis Foundation, Josh noticed Skye standing near the window deep in concentration. He knew that look, that formidable determined set to her jawline and knew it wasn’t good news. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got off the phone with a woman named Polly Claypool in Corvallis, Oregon. Polly’s name appears on our list as next of kin for Lindsey Claypool. Lindsey went missing four years ago this coming March fourteenth. She hasn’t been seen since.” Skye shifted to meet Josh’s eyes. “After a lengthy discussion with the mother I think the Pine Street Jane Doe might be Lindsey.”

Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “Why do you say that?”

“Because Polly gave me a detailed description of her sixteen-year-old daughter. It fits the police report here in Seattle right down to the shoe size and hair coloring. Polly said Lindsey was a high school sophomore who went missing after a basketball game. According to her mother, the junior varsity cheerleader was a member of the National Honor Society and active in drama club.”

“You should contact Harry with your suspicions. If Lindsey went missing four years ago that means it took two years for her body to surface here in town. Where was she all that time?”

“These murders have all the signs of sex trafficking, the victims discarded after fulfilling their purpose. Look, I think we need to go out again tonight.”

“Then we will.”

“No squabble about the timing? We were planning on picking out the tree.”

“Nope, no argument from me. No doubt our guy’s on the prowl because I’m picking up on some of his negative energy. It’s like a black hole that keeps getting bigger. It won’t go away unless we stop him.”

“We’re on the same page then. It’s building up and I’m not sure how we stop it, him.” She glanced back at Josh before staring out the third-story window again at the towering skyline. “The thing that gets me is how this guy keeps these girls for so long? Where does he contain them? He has to be a sex trafficker who moves them through his system and then takes them back.” She contemplated that before answering her own question. “The only explanation I can come up with is that in doing business, this guy exchanges them or trades them up for another or a better product.”

“That’s disgusting. Maybe that’s why I’ve sensed his urges growing stronger lately, ever since he left the scarf and the stuffed animal hanging from the tree. There’s no question in my mind that what happened Wednesday was a ramp up.”

From the doorway Emmett sauntered over to the coffeemaker, made himself to home by taking a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “That’s because his main personality is likely losing out to the one who wants to take over.”

“Split personality disorder is a difficult concept to wrap my mind around. It’s so bizarre,” Skye muttered under her breath.

“You have a nice setup here,” Emmett went on.

“Thanks,” Skye said. “This place is all Josh’s doing.”

Emmett smiled a little and continued, “Together you guys make an impressive team. You’ve even managed to pull together a roomful of volunteers who take the work very seriously. That’s not an easy task to pull off.”

“And now we have you onboard as well,” Skye tossed out with a wicked grin. “What exactly can you tell us about this sadistic asshole and these ‘so-called’ personalities of his?”

“What he’s likely experiencing, the experts refer to as ‘commando’ hallucinations. It’s where the person hears voices telling him when and how to act and giving him a window. I’d say Josh is right. At this point the unknown subject’s veneer is beginning to crack. There’s always one personality stronger than all the rest anyway. And it’s usually not the one he grew up with. The pressure of knowing he failed with the Kendrow kidnapping is weighing on him. He feels badly in need of a victory.”

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, originating 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.”