Truth in the Bones Page 6

  Three

  Sunday morning

  Sunshine filtered through the drapes.

  Skye cracked open one eye and listened to Sierra’s playful, early morning baby babble over the monitor—little giggles, outright laughter, a few raspberries thrown into the mix for good measure.

  She never grew tired of this part of her life. Maybe that’s why she appreciated each and every day so much. She knew others who weren’t so lucky.

  Tossing back the covers, she swung her feet over the side, her feet hitting the cold wood floor.

  Josh shot up next to her, not quite fully awake. “What? What’s going on?”

  She pointed to the baby monitor. “Your daughter’s awake. I still don’t understand how you manage to sleep through the giggling.”

  “I’m up. And I didn’t sleep through anything. Wow, sounds like she’s happy this morning.”

  “She is, most of the time.”

  But with that declaration came a howling sound from down the hallway. Skye put her hand over her mouth, stifling the laughter. “Kiya must be entertaining her again. Do you ever wonder what will happen when Sierra does that at preschool? How will we explain Kiya and a spirit guide to a teacher and a roomful of four-year-olds?”

  “We’ll worry about that when she’s four,” Josh declared, throwing back the comforter. He sat on the edge of the bed, dragging his hand across his lean muscular chest in a scratching motion.

  Skye took the time to stare at his pecs and watched him get to his feet, yawning widely. The entire wake-up scene made her smile. She dashed around to the other side of the bed and brought his mouth down to her level. The kiss was tender but somewhat steamy considering they’d only been awake for a few minutes.

  “What was that for?” he asked, patting her on her rear end.

  “You have to ask? I must be losing my touch.”

  More baby babble, louder than before, sailed out over the monitor. “That’s my cue to get moving. She’ll be hungry.”

  “We’re all hungry,” Josh said, nuzzling her neck. But he gave her a quick kiss while reaching for a shirt. “I’ll get Sierra. Your turn to make your famous pancakes.”

  Skye grinned and reached her hands under his shirt to stroke those lean muscles. “Fine. But that means you’ll have to settle for pancakes as a bonus instead of...”

  “Early morning hot sex? Yeah, I got that, a poor substitute,” Josh moaned as he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

  At the word pancake, Atka had appeared in the doorway, licking her chops.

  Josh bobbed his head in the dog’s direction. “See, even Atka knows it’s pancake time and what that means for breakfast.”

  Atka pranced in place, waiting for Josh to get ready so she could lead him down the hallway to Sierra’s nursery.

  “I need coffee first before I even think about throwing together breakfast,” Skye muttered, scooting into the bathroom.

  After throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she made a beeline for the kitchen and the coffee machine. Dumping Italian roast beans into the grinder, she decided the racket was well worth the robust result.

  Once the brew cycle started, she drifted to the french doors and noticed the leaves in the orchard fluttering in the breeze. Seeking that aroma of spring, she flung open the back door and let in the fragrant fresh air. She wasn’t sure which was the stronger smell, the salty sea water of Puget Sound or the sweet apple blossoms in full bloom. Whichever won out, the outdoors would surely jumpstart her brain.

  While listening to Josh trying to decipher Sierra’s baby talk over the monitor, she rustled up what she needed for breakfast and lined it up on the counter.

  She poured coffee, splashed in half and half, before relishing that first kick of caffeine. Working on a coffee high, she began cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. She tossed in milk, added a shot of vanilla before dishing out baking powder, flour, sugar, and a dash of salt. Once she’d finished blending the mixture, it all went into a large pourable container. She got out the griddle and turned on the burner to the stove.

  Just as she finished pouring the first four pancakes out onto the hot surface, Josh came in carrying Sierra.

  “Ma-ma.”

  “Hey, sweet girl, how are you doing this morning?”

  “Ma-ma,” Sierra repeated, reaching out her arms.

  Skye took the baby, settling her on her hip. “Hungry? Want pancakes? Mama’s fixing pancakes.”

  Sierra bobbed her head, clapped her hands, and stuck her finger in her mouth. “Down!”

  “Nope. Breakfast first, young lady. Then you can play.” After getting Sierra settled in her high chair, she turned back to the stove to flip the cakes over to brown.

  “Kiya. Kiya. Kiya,” Sierra sung out, banging on the tray.

  Skye glanced over at Josh. “See what I mean? Most of what Sierra says is babble. You can’t make out most of it. But Kiya comes in loud and clear.”

  Standing at the coffee pot, Josh gave her a shrug. “I don’t see the harm of her connecting early to her spirit guide. I don’t think it’s a big deal. It wasn’t with you.”

  “But I wasn’t this young. I knew enough to keep things like that to myself. Plus, my parents had cautioned me that I might be laughed at if I shared Kiya sightings with anyone else so I didn’t. But Sierra’s way too young for that.”

  “We shouldn’t stifle this side of her,” Josh determined, opening the pantry and bringing out a large scoop of dog food for Atka. After filling the dog’s dish, he leaned back against the counter, prepared to argue his point. “In a tribal sense, she’s simply doing what comes natural. It would be a mistake to try and suppress the bond she’s made with Kiya. Early or not, that link is vital. You ought to know how important it is.”

  Skye plated a pancake for Sierra while Josh poured milk into a sippy cup. “You’re right. I know I should stop worrying about it. But as a mother…I don’t want her ridiculed for being different. I know what that’s like, too.”

  Josh leaned over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. “The day you stop worrying about anything, I’ll have to check your pulse. Just let it go. Let Sierra be who she is. I can’t believe I’m the one who’s advocating for this.”

  Skye flipped more pancakes onto plates while Josh poured two glasses of orange juice for them. They sat down at the table as a family.

  “I get it. I do.” She looked over at Sierra, who was stuffing her face with the sticky, syrupy pancake. “She’s already different enough without piling on. She has us as parents.”

  Josh sent her an eye roll. “She’s loved. We’ve already discussed at length about keeping her as much out of the spotlight as we can. But we shouldn’t bring her up to repress who she is. No one should have to go through that. She should celebrate her Native roots, not hide them.”

  Skye rubbed her forehead. “I think this Cross-country Killer case is already starting to get to me.”

  “That’s what I thought would happen. It did last time with Carpenter. You insisted on stopping him, too.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of compartmentalizing these cases.”

  “You are, but are you willing to try harder to do it? That’s the question. I heard you get up this morning at three o’clock and come downstairs.” When she sent him a disgusted look, he added, “You forget my hearing is supercharged.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

  “Harry knows.”

  “That’s not surprising, considering you pick up on details no one else could possibly see at crime scenes. Did he actually say that?”

  “Joking around, yeah. But he’s serious about catching this guy. What else did you learn from the files this morning?”

  “That the Cross-country Killer isn’t taking anything of value from his victims. Which tells me he’s there for one reason and one reason only. He likes the kill.”

  Skye’s cell phone trilled with a text message. “Harry says the homeowners are willing to let us inside the house between eleven and
noon today.”

  “Then we’ll take advantage of the hour to look around. What can it hurt? Although I’m not sure what good it will do after two years have passed.”

  Skye recognized an opening for a jab. “Oh really? What about those powers of yours? Let’s see how super they are after such a long time since the murders took place.”

  “Am I sensing a loss of faith in my abilities?”

  “Never.” Skye leaned in next to his shoulder. “I’m just jealous.”

  “Hear that, Sierra? Mama’s jealous of Daddy’s wolf skills.”

  “Dad-dy. Wolf. Kiya!” Sierra lifted her head and did her best to howl in response. And with that the dog set up a din of her own, barking in response to Sierra.

  “Everyone just calm down,” Skye prompted. “We have to get dressed and loaded up. We’re taking a road trip to the mainland.”

  ***

  Almost from the moment Josh had discovered Skye was pregnant, he’d traded in his compact Ford Fusion for a more family-friendly minivan. From the husband of one of his employees, he’d gotten a bargain on the hybrid Chrysler Pacifica. To Josh, the vehicle was a dream to own and drive because it could go more than five hundred miles on one charge up, something that appealed to his sense of duty as a parent to save a little part of the planet for Sierra.

  Packed with all the kid paraphernalia that parents drag with them on trips, the backseat held more than Sierra’s car seat. A lot more. The diaper bag held more than diapers. Stuffed inside were all the essentials for an overnight stay in the desert or any other remote place in the world—extra food, milk, snacks, clothing, even an extra pair of tiny shoes.

  Atka rested her chin on Sierra’s leg. Protective and loyal, the malamute stayed on alert whenever the dog spent any time around the baby. The pooch didn’t like strangers and eyed anyone with distrust who got close.

  After sailing across Puget Sound via the ferry, Josh navigated traffic on busy Yesler until he took a right on MLK and headed south. He went under the I-90 Expressway, veering left onto Rainier Avenue South and into the Columbia City neighborhood where the Maldonados once lived.

  Culturally diverse, people began pouring into this section of Seattle during the postwar boom. Remodeled homes now replaced rundown, sixty-year-old cottages. The stylish upgrades sat on quaint streets with names like Ferdinand and Hudson, a reminder to residents the historic link they had to the past.

  Musicians and artists shared the neighborhood with doctors and dentists. Along the business district, a thriving thoroughfare where restaurants, coffee houses, and bars made up the nightlife, it was commonplace to find an assortment of residents hanging out in fun and laughter. There were plenty of businesses that served their own without residents having to take a trip into other parts of the city. On weekends, neighbors could pick up vegetables at the farmers’ market, spend an afternoon at one of the art galleries, or take the kids to the playground or the dog for a walk around one of the parks.

  Where vacant buildings had once stood, savvy developers and real estate moguls had snapped up property and vacant lots to build trendy townhomes alongside multiple-story apartment buildings.

  With some reluctance, Josh pulled his burgundy-colored van up to the former house where the Maldonado family had lost their lives.

  The Craftsman bungalow didn’t seem like it had ever been the scene of a horrific crime. But Harry had provided them with a slew of gruesome photos that proved otherwise. It had changed since that terrible night. Today, red and orange gerbera daisies grew in colorful window boxes on the front porch. A bench with bright red pillows sat to the side of the front door. The setting seemed like the perfect place to live. Maybe that had been the point, maybe the attraction for the killer. Take something so meaningful, something so normal, and ruin it with blood and madness.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, Skye squirmed at the prospect that a murderer had been in this very spot two years earlier. She fidgeted with her seat belt before asking, “Are we waiting for Harry before we go up to the door?”

  “He’s the one who got permission. So, yeah.” Josh glanced in the rearview mirror and thumbed a hand toward the back of the van. “He’s pulling up now.”

  “Good, because Sierra might not be patient enough to sit in the car for very long.”

  “This is the nearest thing to a crime scene we have,” Josh said in return. “It won’t take long to get the lay of the crime scene, go room to room, and be able to tell if there’s still a hint of anything remaining for me to see from that night.”

  “Progress often comes in slow, short spurts. Let’s hope you’re able to pick up on something, anything really, that we don’t have now.”

  Harry met them at the curb. “Sorry about the redacted files. Emmett assures me he’s in the process of correcting that. By the end of the day he promises to send over what he has on the murder weapons. You wanted to know if the guns were left behind—they were not. Turns out, the firearms used were all different calibers. You think this guy has money, yeah, he probably does. But he also has access to lots of different firearms.”

  Skye followed Harry up to the front door. “We decided to call him the Cross-country Killer, just so you’re up to speed on everything. Winston came up with the nickname.”

  “Catchy. But it doesn’t matter what we call him. We need…”

  Skye didn’t let him finish. “A workable theory. I know. Maybe he steals the weapons by burglarizing the houses in his targeted area. It would create the illusion of a large arsenal when the opposite is true. There was no mention of other petty crimes in the area though.”

  Harry cut his eyes toward Josh. “See what I mean? She hasn’t lost a step formulating those renowned theories of hers. She still thinks on her feet. That’s what we need right now…lots of thinking outside the box.” He tapped Josh’s chest. “Let’s hope you’re as sharp as ever before, too. We need your…whatever it is now more than ever. Are you ready for this?”

  “I better be since I don’t have much choice. ”

  They entered through the front door, past a hall tree laden with winter gear. Coats and hats and scarves hung from the pegs with several sizes of rain boots littering the floor underneath.

  Josh took his time, his eyes flitting from one wall to the next. But when he picked up nothing from the foyer, he moved on into a smallish living room. He circled it twice, stopping to peruse book titles from the built-in bookcase.

  But he didn’t feel a single vibe from the night of the murders. “Two years is a long time in between for me to pick up anything at this point,” Josh declared, as he wandered into the kitchen.

  Just when he thought this trip had been a waste of time, images bombarded him. Once he reached the back of the house, something akin to flashbacks zipped out like a movie reel.

  Figuring out the point of entry—the small utility room and the door leading out to the garage—triggered the pictures inside his brain. Like streaming media, the download of images brought to life and told him what happened that night. He watched it play out from the beginning like a horror film coming to life on the big screen.

  It started outside the house as the villain stood in the shadows between a narrow space of lawn. There, the killer had slipped a mask over his face before jimmying the lock on a side door to get into the garage. Simple B&E move, Josh thought.

  But what happened next gave the man total access. He crept between the two cars parked in the garage as if he had nothing to lose. Because the door to the house had been left unlocked, the man had simply made his way inside without fanfare.

  Walking past dirty laundry lining the utility room floor, past a large recycling container that held plastic water bottles, the intruder looked menacing enough even to Josh, a scary monster set to intimidate anyone he encountered.

  Josh stared into the man’s cold blue eyes, hoping to glean some type of information. But nothing was there. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, this man lacked a conscience and gave off little or no
empathy with no moral compass. No surprise there.

  Knowing what was about to happen and unable to stop the bloodbath, Josh wanted to reach out and yank the mask off the guy’s head. But that wasn’t why he was here. He tried to pick up on the killer’s demeanor and watched him slip quietly into the kitchen.

  The guy took a seat at the island, settling in as if the house had been empty as hell instead of a family of six sleeping upstairs. The intruder didn’t seem concerned about that fact. While the Maldonados slept, Josh marveled at the way the man took his time going over his list, taking it from his pocket, perusing the piece of paper as if boning up for the night’s events by memorizing the checklist. But when Josh watched the man get to his feet again and take out a gun, everything changed.

  Skye noticed Josh’s face drain to the color of pearl-white paste. His eyes became riveted on one area of the room while his body went completely still. “What’s wrong? Are you picking up anything yet?”

  “Take Sierra out of the house. Now! Go back to the car,” Josh directed, his voice quiet and calm, but the tone intensifying. “I don’t want Sierra anywhere near this. She might somehow be able to pick up on the evil that was here.”

  “Want me to take her back to the car?” Harry offered. “You can stay with Josh.”

  Skye shook her head and backed out of the room, retracing her steps to the front door. Knowing full well what was happening inside Josh’s head at that moment, and knowing what he’d probably already seen, she scurried down the steps clutching Sierra to her body and away from the ugliness.

  Once she reached the van, she bounded into the front seat, met by seventy-five pounds of friendly dog. Atka hopped between the seats, burrowing her nose into Skye’s shoulder. As if picking up on her anxiety, the pooch did her best to reassure her master with wet licks to the face that the situation would be okay.

  Settling Sierra on her lap, Skye glanced back at the house before studying her daughter’s face for any sign of distress. Once she realized the toddler seemed fine, she relaxed her shoulders.