Читать книгу Bone Box - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 6

The eye sees what it wants to see—and sometimes more.

Late summer in Upstate New York was glorious: warm but not hot with humidity kept in check. Deep in the woods, the sky was a blazing blue through the canopy of green trees with singing birds and humming insects, brilliant enough to turn the most curmudgeonly into optimistic fools. Rina stopped on the trail, breathing in air that would soon turn cool then cold. Back in Los Angeles, she would have never attempted a solo hike, but Greenbury was a small town, and somehow that made it feel safe.

Wearing a backpack, she made sure to keep to the trail. Cellular reception was spotty at best and as she walked deeper into the forest, it all but disappeared. The temperature dropped a few degrees and the vegetation turned thicker. Some of the oaks and maples were hinting at the fall colors to come; autumn was her favorite time of year. As she walked through the woods, she marveled at the way the light sparkled against the ground, the contrast between sun and shade. The stunning displays of nature were providing her with many Ansel Adams moments. Why not take advantage?

She took off her backpack, fished out her phone and a bag of camera attachments. One thing that was great about a phone was the nearly limitless amount of photographs she could take and delete and take again.

Having walked the trail about a half-dozen times, Rina was familiar with the terrain. Every time she shot photos along Bogat, she tried to pick out something new. Last month had been insects; she’d captured over a hundred snapshots of beetles, spiders, butterflies, and other winged creatures. Today she was aiming bigger, specifically for the magnificent, majestic trees and the interplay between light and dark. She found just what she was looking for in the form of a giant, old oak—a huge trunk with leaves shimmering in a gentle breeze, a thousand facets of broken light like the sun reflected off a lapping lake. Trouble was the oak was some distance away off-trail. Although she had a zoom lens, she wanted up-close-and-personal shots.

It isn’t that far away, she told herself. Go for it.

Taking out an old-fashioned compass, she made a note of her coordinates. It was very easy to get disoriented in the woods. Everything was green and lush and looked the same even if you were paying attention. But she was emboldened because as she walked closer to the oak, there was a clearing and some phone reception.

Off-trail, she had to be particularly careful about falling. Tree roots were thick and rocks abounded. As she inched forward, she looked around until she found a great spot to set up. She stepped forward and backward to get the ideal frame, the forest floor beneath her feet feeling spongy. Odd because it had been at least a few weeks since it had rained.

She took a giant stride backward to zero in on the tree and felt a sudden snap under her foot. At first, when she looked down, she thought she had stepped on a twig. Then she realized it was something different and in her confusion, it took a few seconds to register.

A skeletal hand with human fingers.

It had been several hours since she had eaten, but her stomach lurched and her gut felt leaden. Her head went light as her heart started pumping full force. She managed to stay upright, but she was finding it hard to breathe. Talking herself off the ledge.

Old bones, Rina. No one is here. You’re safe.

She brought her hands to her mouth and tried to calm down.

Go back to the trail.

Don’t run. Walk.

Then she heard her husband’s voice in her head.

But … first document this.

The attachment was already on.

It was easier to look at the horror through the filter of a lens. She snapped pictures not only of the hand but also of the surrounding area. She was feeling more and more anxious, so she stopped. Stowing the camera attachment, she took out her phone. Her husband’s mobile went straight to voice mail.

She took out the compass, slowly making her way down the hillside and back to the trailhead. As she walked, she kept trying her phone.

No reception.

Okay. At least you’re on the trail.

Keep going, keep going.

Don’t run. Walk.

Her perfect day had turned sour. But she didn’t dare wallow in pity.

Deep in those woods, it had once been an inconceivably hideous day for someone else.

The calls kept going to Peter’s voice mail, so Rina tried Tyler McAdams, her husband’s sometimes partner in crime solving, which really wasn’t a tall order in such a small town. When he answered, she explained what had happened. The first thing out of his mouth was “Where the hell is Bogat Trail?”

“Didn’t you live here for a year?”

“Two and a half but who’s counting? Have you personally ever seen me in a windbreaker or a parka?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“That’s because cashmere snags when caught on a tree branch. My idea of hiking is going from the law school to Widener. I repeat. Where is Bogat Trail?”

“Just call up Peter. Tell him I’m in my car at the trailhead. He’ll know where that is. And tell him to call me. I can’t get hold of him and by now, I’ve left so many messages, his voice-mail box is full.”

“He’s in a meeting with Radar and one of the college proctors. There was an altercation at one of the bars last night; punches were thrown and a window was broken. The owner is not happy.”

“The semester just started.”

“Exactly. Just stay put, Rina. I’ll go interrupt him.”

A few minutes later, her husband’s voice cut through the line.

“What in God’s name are you doing at Bogat Trail by yourself?” he thundered.

Rina paused before she spoke. “I’ve been on this trail alone at least a half-dozen times.”

“Well, you never told me you were there.”

“I’m certain I did but you never cared because I never found any human remains before.”

A pause. “Go home. We’ll talk later.”

“I’m not going home, because you need me to show you the spot. I copied down the coordinates from my compass.”

“Then I should be able to find it myself. Just go home.”

Rina sighed. “Look, sweetie, I know your anger is coming from a place of concern, but it wasn’t my fault I found bones and this call isn’t about me, okay?”

A long pause. “You’re right. You’re sure the remains are human?”

“Unless there are monkeys here, I saw human finger bones.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, but thanks for asking.” Rina felt her throat clog up. “Just get here as soon as you can.”

“I’m leaving now. It’ll take me about twenty minutes.”

“Is Tyler coming with you?”

“Probably.”

“You drive because he hasn’t a clue where Bogat is.”

“I’m sorry, Rina. It must have been awful for you.”

“It was, but I’m breathing normal again.” A pause. “I took pictures.”

“You took pictures? Of the bones?”

“Of the bones and the area around the bones. After the initial shock, I figured I might as well do something useful.”

“Are there people around?”

“No one, but I’m protected. I’m in my car eating a tuna sandwich with the windows slightly open and the doors locked.”

“Close your windows.”

“Not when I’m eating tuna. But stay on the phone with me.”

“Of course. We’re walking out to the car now. Did you happen to see anything else while you were up there?”

“Like a potential murder weapon? No. How’s your day been going? I heard about the trashing of the bar.”

“Stupid kids. Other than that, uneventful.”

“Same here until this.”

“What were you doing up there?”

“Enjoying a beautiful day. I found a magnificent oak and I was hoping to take some pictures of it. Oh well, I’m sure you’ll get lots of pictures of my tree now. I didn’t smell anything putrid, Peter. Whatever was buried rotted a long time ago. How long does it take a body to decompose?”

“If the weather’s warm, it can take weeks. Longer if the ground’s frozen, but it isn’t. Thaw was months ago.”

“So the body’s been there for a while?”

“I don’t know. There haven’t been any recent missing persons reported, but I’ll check the archives; maybe some local girls have gone missing. I’m turning on the car’s ignition. You’re going to Bluetooth. I may be cut off.”

A moment later, the line was reconnected.

“Are you there?”

“Still here,” Rina said.

“Hi, Rina.”

“Hi, Tyler. Thanks for giving Peter the message.”

“No problem. How are you doing?”

“Better than when we first spoke. Are you calling out SID?”

“Mike Radar is assembling a team,” Decker said. “He’ll call in a coroner and depending who’s available and how far away he or she has to come from, we’ll have the whole crew up there in a couple of hours. There’s still a lot of daylight left.”

“I passed a lovely meadow on the way. It was still filled with flowers. I’m sure the trail will be closed for a while. How sad. I mean it’s way sadder for the person buried up there. I’m kind of rambling. I guess I’m still a bit shaken up.”

“I’m shaken up and I’m not even there yet,” McAdams said.

“Said by the man who has been shot twice.”

“That was so last year.”

Rina laughed. “Just stay on the phone with me until you get here.”

It was the second time she said that. She was more shaken than she was letting on. Decker said, “Again, I’m sorry if I was gruff with you. It scared me, thinking of you alone up there, miles from civilization.” When Rina chuckled, Decker said, “What’s the joke?”

“I was just thinking. Despite all those spooky Grimm’s fairy tales, it’s probably still safer in the woods than in so-called civilization.”

The forensic teams were relegated to hand tools and brushes in order to preserve the integrity of the bones. It didn’t take long before the hints of a skeletonized body emerged. Decker spoke to the coroner, a man in his forties from Hamilton Hospital about thirty miles away. His name was Jerome Donner and he mostly dealt with assigning death certificates to natural causes. He wasn’t ideal, but since Greenbury was not near Boston or New York, he was as good as it gets on short notice.

“No soft tissue left so far. There is hair and nails, which can outlast soft tissue by a long stretch.”

“Long dark strands. Female?”

“Can’t tell from the position of the body. I have to wait until I get the bones in the lab.”

The body was curled in a fetal position. An unusual way for a body to be buried, but it did require a smaller grave.

Donner turned to Rina. “You didn’t notice the hand sticking out right away?”

“No. I just stepped back, heard a crunch, looked down, and saw the fingers.” She made a face. “Sorry if I ruined the crime scene.”

Decker put his arm around his wife. “Why are you still here?”

“Because I want to be here.” She stared at the open grave. “Can you age the skeleton?”

“Not easily,” Donner said. “I’ll try once we get it into the morgue. You’ve got the hair. Dead hair, but at least we have a length and a color.”

“Probably a woman,” Decker said.

“Probably.” The coroner looked up. “Aren’t these things usually women?”

Decker’s shrug was noncommittal. He said, “Once all the biological material is removed, we can poke around and see what else we can find.”

“Like a purse with ID?” Donner asked.

“In a perfect world.”

“Paper by itself would disintegrate. Paper in a purse or wallet would take longer. Even if we can’t find ID, maybe we can get bits of clothing.”

“How long do clothes last before disintegrating?” Rina asked.

“If it’s an artificial fiber, it could be a while. If there’s a purse and it’s made from plastic, then we get lucky.”

McAdams came over. “Reception’s really spotty, but I finally did connect to Kevin. He’s going to pull all the missing person cases going back around five years. I told him it could be anyone, although with long hair it’s probably female.”

Decker nodded. “The body could be local or from anywhere. This is prime dumping ground.”

“But she wasn’t dumped, she was buried,” McAdams said. “Someone took the time to dig a deep hole and cover her up.”

Rina said, “If it was a random killing, would a random killer have taken the time to bury the victim?”

“If he wanted to hide his handiwork and he had the time, sure,” Decker said. “Some killers get a big thrill out of the burial. But I know what you’re thinking: that the killer could have been someone close to the victim who thought it was disrespectful to leave her in the open.”

“Any indication of how the victim was killed?” McAdams asked the coroner.

“Nope.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to remove all the bones?”

“We’ll be working through the night.”

Decker turned to Rina. “Let me walk you back to your car.”

“Sure. You want my other tuna sandwich? I think I might even have two of them left. I always come prepared with lots of food when I hike.”

“I’ll take the sandwiches. Cool it with the hiking for a while.”

“Winter’s coming anyway.”

“Let’s go, darling.”

While they walked back, they made small talk. Then there was silence. Rina broke it. “She could be a student from the Five Colleges of Upstate. How far is the campus? A fifteen-minute drive?”

“Not even.” Decker was quiet. Then he said, “Do you know anyone who has been at the colleges for a while? Someone who might remember missing girls from years ago?”

“Tilly Goldstein has been at Hillel for over twenty years as administrative director.”

“How old is she?”

“In her late fifties. Want me to ask her about missing students?”

“Sure. She’ll ask you why. You can tell her about the bones, but tell her to keep it to herself for the moment. And just ask her and no one else. I need to keep track of who we talk to.”

“Of course. I’ll call her when I get home.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else I can do?”

“There’s a lot you can do, but unfortunately you can’t do it in public.”

Rina smiled and hit him.

“What?”

“What what?”

“It just means I’m still interested. At my advanced age, isn’t that a compliment?”

She took his hand. “I suppose it is a compliment. When exactly is this little tryst supposed to take place?”

“Certainly not tonight. Can I hold you to it at a later date?”

“I’ll have to see if my calendar is open.”

Decker smiled. “As they say in our former city, have your people call my people.”