Skye Cree 02: The Bones Will Tell Read online

  Over salad, prime rib, and asparagus tips, the talk turned to Orcas Island and the cabin there that had been in the family since the 1930s.

  “Josh tells us you two spent the Fourth of July over there? How did you like the place, Skye?” Doug wanted to know.

  “It’s beautiful. The second time we spent there was much better than the first though. Over the Fourth we got to bike around the area, take the nature trails into the hills and explore. Josh even took me out on the water.”

  “So you’ve been over there twice,” Phyllis asked eyeing Josh’s face.

  Realizing she’d said way too much, Skye attempted to tap dance around the truth. “Well, the first time we went—”

  “We spent most of the time indoors as I recall, never left the cabin,” Josh admitted without the slightest hint of embarrassment. “We didn’t take advantage of all the area had to offer until the holiday, which meant everywhere we went was jam-packed with sightseers.”

  “That’s true. The shops in Olga were very crowded. And the roads…the roads were clogged so Josh suggested we...we motored over there in the boat.”

  Taking pity on a nervous Skye, Josh reached to pick up her hand, placed a kiss on the palm.

  Delighted with her son’s reaction, Phyllis went on, “Isn’t that the cutest little hamlet for artists? What did you buy?”

  Skye smiled. “We bought a gorgeous giclée print by James Hardman depicting a trail and the forest in soft pinks and blues.”

  “We have his Mandolin Player framed in one of the guest rooms. It’s a shame you two can’t stay the night. But Josh tells us you have to get back.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Skye said and meant it. She sent a sideways glance in the direction of Josh, and added, “I suppose we could stay longer. There’s no real hurry.”

  But Doug surprised her. “You should do whatever you have to do. Your work is essential. No other private citizen I know can do what you seemed to be able to do with such a success rate. We understand that.”

  On the way back to the loft, Skye had to admit she adored the Anders. “Your dad is a hoot. I see where you get your sense of humor.”

  “He’s fond of you, too.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “Skye, in case you didn’t notice, my parents are so grateful I have a woman like you in my life, they can hardly see straight.”

  “It’s hard to follow in the footsteps of Annabelle. Your mother took down your wedding photos and showed them off tonight while you and your dad were outside on the terrace. You both looked so happy in those pictures. It’s sad that Michelle Reardon took away that happiness from you.”

  Josh ground his teeth, a little annoyed with his mother for doing that. He tried to downplay the anger and sadness that wanted to creep in. “Yeah, well, that’s why I want to be there when Michelle’s ninety-day evaluation is up. I’m already working on my statement that goes to the judge. Hopefully it’ll make an impact.” He reached for Skye’s hand. “But my mother shouldn’t have shared the album with you, Skye.”

  “Why not? That’s a part of who you are, were. Both of your parents told me enough times tonight that they were happy we were together so I know Phyllis didn’t do it out of malice or because she thought it would upset me. It occurred to me she might’ve been hinting at a repeat performance for you.”

  Josh sent her a wide grin. “I could get onboard with having another advocate in my corner about that.”

  “She wants grandchildren.”

  “She said that?”

  “She was angling at it, very cleverly I might add. She wasn’t too subtle about making her wishes known.”

  Josh ran a hand through his hair and breathed a huge sigh. “One thing about my mother, she’s never been shy about letting me know right upfront what she expects.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ten days went by and Seattle’s serial killer was still out there somewhere. But during all that time he hadn’t surfaced.

  It might’ve been because the police had ramped up their efforts and increased their manpower. Members of the task force put in massive amounts of overtime, spent twenty-four-seven on call. They followed up on tips that came in via phone, ran down leads the old-fashioned way on foot. Extra patrols were set up particularly in the neighborhoods where petty burglaries or break-ins had occurred before a murder.

  But they turned up nothing.

  That’s why husbands and boyfriends did more to keep a vigilant eye on the women in their lives. They purchased extra guns and ammo to have on hand just in case. Single women moved in with sisters, brothers, cousins or anyone else who would offer them a bed. Those women who chose to stay put, bought weapons of all kinds, added locks for their doors and had security systems installed.

  During this dormant period, Josh’s vivid dreams came to an abrupt halt. Since Skye’s hadn’t returned either, business went on as usual. Skye still went out every night on her nightly patrols and Josh went with her.

  But the woman still refused to have anything to do with Travis Nakota.

  Toward the end of September, the North American Gamers Association, NAGA, put pressure on Josh to appear at their fall convention in Denver as their keynote speaker. For two months, he’d been putting them off. Kendra had given him hell about it, pestering him to give her the go-ahead to make his travel arrangements. While he’d neatly resisted his secretary’s repeated requests, when Skye learned about the invitation, she was a lot tougher to dissuade.

  Because he had no desire to go out of town and leave Skye to deal with things alone, Josh had spent a week trying to convince Todd Graham to make the trip in his place—which, of course had turned out to be a waste of time. Even though Todd was an unlikely candidate to make an appearance outside the company, Josh had given it his best shot. When that hadn’t worked out, he had spent an additional week attempting to persuade Skye to come with him out of town as a change of pace. But when reality sat in and he realized he had surrounded himself with very stubborn people, Josh eventually gave Kendra the go-ahead to finalize the necessary travel itinerary.

  “There’s no need to worry,” Skye assured Josh as she helped him fold the last of his things into his suitcase. “I handled myself just fine without you for seven years, I’m certain I can handle going out for three nights in a row alone. Stop worrying about me.”

  His hand tightened over hers. “Please be careful. I know the dreams have stopped for me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t out there waiting somewhere, watching for the right opportunity to strike. You and I both know that. It could be while you’re walking the streets down some dark alley.”

  “I’ll be careful, Josh. But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop what I’ve been doing all this time. Because I also know there are other kinds of predators out there who have to be dealt with. The world doesn’t revolve around our serial killer, no matter how much he wants us to believe that. Deviants come in many shapes and sizes. They don’t stop. They don’t give up.”

  “That’s right and neither will our serial killer. That’s why I’m worried.”

  “Josh, we talked about this. Worrying isn’t gonna cut it. You can’t run your company and hold my hand twenty-four-seven. Now go to Denver and enjoy the time you have there. Get some work done. And stay away from the groupies.”

  Josh’s forehead creased with worry lines. “Why are you not getting this, Skye? My heart is here with you, not at some convention giving a damned speech.”

  “I know. But there are two sides to Josh Ander now. Maybe there’s always been two. Josh the business owner. And Josh the superhero with wolf tendencies still has to relax once in a while. You started out as a gamer. Now go game.”

  “Just be careful out there. Listen to Kiya. Don’t take any chances. Promise me.”

  “Yes, I promise I’ll be extra careful. Now go and try to have fun. The cab’s already waiting for you downstairs. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “And I wi
ll miss you,” Skye said as they hopped on the elevator. “A lot. Who’s gonna nag at me about stuff?”

  “There is that. Stay here at the loft while I’m out of town. Security’s better here.”

  “I already told you I would,” Skye agreed as she rolled her eyes.

  “This guy will be gunning for you, Skye. He’s that crazy.”

  “You and I both know if he wants to find me, he will. I’m not that difficult to track down.”

  “That’s it,” Josh said as he punched the stop button for the elevator. “I’m not going. I’m cancelling the trip.”

  “Josh Ander, you have no confidence in me, do you?”

  “I have every confidence in you. It’s the sexual deviants who keep me from getting a solid eight hours sleep anymore.”

  Skye reached around him, pressed the button to get the elevator moving again. “Then know this. I am perfectly capable of handling this guy if he decides to come around and hasn’t already left Seattle for greener pastures.”

  Their back-and-forth banter continued until Josh crawled into the taxi and it sped away.

  As Skye stood watching the car disappear around the corner and Josh with it, she had to wonder if he had a point.

  She’d gone up against sexual predators who preyed on little girls before. Even though they were violent in nature, this might be the first time she’d have to go head-to-head with a guy bent on brutalizing his victims just for the fun of it. Which made her wonder exactly when the guy’s serial killer instincts had kicked in? How many years had he been at this?

  She refused to admit to Josh or anyone else for that matter, that the guy they were after unnerved her. Considerably. But then she wouldn’t be human if a monster like that didn’t get to her. Even after Josh left, she wasn’t surprised he called twice from the cab. In fact, she bided her time. When he phoned again from the airport, their conversation took on a gentler tone and lasted forty-five minutes before he had to board the plane.

  But there was unease on both sides.

  Skye wondered if he suspected she’d held back. If what she was sensing was a premonition, then she’d keep it to herself. There was no need for Josh to miss out on his convention. That’s why she hadn’t mentioned anything to the stressed-out man for that very reason. Telling him would only make him worry more and she didn’t think that was possible. Besides, she needed to do this herself. They weren’t joined at the hip. So she had kept her mouth shut and had blocked her thoughts, making sure he couldn’t pick up on anything.

  For the remainder of that morning, she logged onto her computer, determined to search for sex offenders using the program Josh had built for her. The application allowed her to access several different databases that would spit out a commonality list. Things like the sex offender registry could cross-check with state employment records, the motor vehicle department, and tax record databases across the Seattle area.

  After several hours, she hit compile and watched as the program narrowed down a list of sex offenders. She hit print and watched as it spit out enough names and addresses to use as a starting point.

  Crazy as it sounded, she would check them out on her rounds. If she ran across any of the houses that matched the one she’d seen in her dream, the one painted gray with red trim, then she’d have a starting place. At the very least, she’d have a neighborhood in which to look.

  When she’d exhausted her resources and felt confident with the results, she donned her leather and black and sailed out the door with Kiya at her side to find a predator, the one who had been haunting her dreams for the past couple of nights.

  She could only hope it wasn’t too late to save the latest girl the man had been abusing over the last forty-eight hours. At least she thought it might be that recent. While her vision last night had been weak in its overall punch—certainly not like the ones she’d experienced so vividly for years—it had given her enough strong impressions of the house that she felt confident she could recognize it. But first, she had to put in some legwork. From there, she’d have to rely on Kiya, which of course, she would do.

  Two hours and several blocks later, Kiya’s instincts paid off. Skye and her wolf stood outside a wood and stone cottage that looked as ordinary as any grandmother’s on the block. All it needed was the gingerbread trim and it could’ve jumped off the pages of a fairy tale.

  But Skye was pretty sure there was nothing magical taking place under that roof. No, what was inside those four walls crossed into horrific. It didn’t matter that the unusual color scheme made the place stand out from all the other houses on the street. That alone would cause anyone to take note.

  Even in broad daylight, the slate-gray house with the red door and shutters and peeling paint job gave her the creeps. It could have been nothing more than the spit of rain that hit her face or the fact that the heavens overhead were turning darker and more threatening by the minute. The clouds indicated a storm churned and brewed out over Puget Sound. But that was nothing compared to the roiling in Skye’s stomach.

  She took out her iPhone along with the file she’d printed out. Once again, she logged into Josh’s program to access it so she could get the ownership of the residence. The search results came back with the name, Perry York. She scanned the data. To her disappointment, York did not match any of the names on her registered sex offender list. She rechecked everything a second time and then a third. Still no Perry York came up anywhere. Damn. Maybe this guy had flown under the radar.

  According to the public tax records database she’d accessed, Perry York was forty-five years old and worked second shift as a stocker at a big-box retail chain. He’d owned the house since his mother died six years earlier and left the property to him. At some point he’d taken out a second mortgage to pay for a new roof.

  Skye studied the digital screen and then looked back up across the street to survey the layout of the small bungalow. Rocking back on her heels, she could tell the place had a basement by the windows at ground level. Every last fiber in her said this was the house from her dream. But she’d have to do her own reconnaissance to be certain of that. To get in there, she’d have to be patient and wait for the guy to leave. If the database was correct and he still had the job stocking shelves, he’d be leaving for work soon.

  In the meantime, she logged out of one application and into vital statistics, checking to see if Mr. York had ever been married. When that didn’t yield what she wanted, she tried Facebook. Sure enough his relationship status showed him as single.

  Two hours ticked along and by the time the bright red front door flew open, her watch showed three o’clock. Skye eyed the man, around five-feet-eight, walk out and head to his dark green Dodge Ram pickup parked in the driveway.

  During the time Skye had waited, she’d gotten fully drenched. Now, feeling like a drowned rat, she watched the truck disappear around the corner at the end of the block. Water dripped from her purple watch cap as she made her move around to the back of the house.

  When she reached the back door, she took out the lock pick from the inside of her jacket. She squatted down, toyed with the tumblers. One at a time, each clicked into place until she could turn the handle.

  Good thing there was no deadbolt, she thought, as the door creaked open. She stepped inside an older, dated kitchen. The room was neat as a pen, not a dirty dish sitting in the sink, or a mess left out on the counter.

  But the late fall afternoon coupled with the cloudy skies had her straining her eyes just to see. Squinting into the area beyond the kitchen, she reached into the inside flap of her coat and removed her penlight so she wouldn’t have to turn on the lights. The room was fairly dark anyway due to the old brown cabinets that needed refinishing and the ugly tan paint someone had slapped on the walls. The color combo didn’t do anything to lighten the place up.

  Skye moved farther into the interior of the small house. It didn’t take her long to do a quick walk-through of the place to ensure she was alone. With each step, she shined the be
am searching for the door leading down to the basement. Once she backtracked into the kitchen, she spotted what she’d missed earlier. A door at the end of the open space where the washer and dryer stood had to be the one that led down to the basement.

  Hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she muttered to Kiya’s form, “Unlike the back door this one’s got a deadbolt lock installed on the outside. Not a good sign. Whatever or whoever is down there is locked in.”

  She flipped the lock back and sucked in a breath as she turned the knob. The smell of urine and feces hit her nose first with full force. She knew then for certain what she’d find at the end of those stairs. She hoped she wasn’t too late.

  But the odor had a memory popping into her head—that of another day last spring when she’d walked into a warehouse near the docks and found several young girls in holding cells waiting to be shipped out to South America. Their cells had reeked of the same foul mess.

  Skye forced that image aside. With her penlight as a guide, she grabbed the old wooden railing and took each step in measured precision, stopping to listen for any sound as she went. Once she reached the last step, she took a chance and looked around for the light switch.

  All of her instincts told her what she’d see, but she wasn’t prepared for the reality of it. As tidy as the upstairs first floor had been, below ground level was chaos. A layer of filth and dank air had chills tingling up her spine. Skye stepped off the stairs into a river of sticky wetness. The bottom of her boots slipped on the cement floor.

  Because of that she took careful steps to inch her way farther into the abyss. That is, until she made the mistake of glancing up.

  Revulsion hit her.

  Perry York might’ve left to go to his shitty job but he’d left a naked girl chained to his basement wall. The teenager looked to be about fifteen. Her feet dangled about six inches from the floor. Her wrists were shackled with huge metal cuffs. The girl’s body either twitched with involuntary spasms from the abuse she’d taken or shivered from the cold.