Alone (Bone Secrets, #4)(25)

“Jason. A friend of Brooke’s.”

“Friend of yours too? I haven’t heard you mention him before.”

See?

“Her friend. I’ve met him once or twice. He doesn’t go to our school. I’m surprised he has my number to text me,” she lied. Why was she lying? Was it because it was about a boy she barely knew?

“Well, that makes no sense,” Katy logically pointed out. “You gave him your number or Brooke did for a particular reason. Which is it?”

Once again, Katy wasn’t one to let the little details slide.

I should have admitted it in the first place.

“I think he got it when we were arranging a ride to meet at the mall a few weeks ago. I’d forgot about that.” That was better. And the truth.

“Uh-huh.” Katy didn’t question any more. In a roundabout way, she’d pointed out that Trinity was lying. And in a roundabout way, Trinity admitted it. Case closed.

A nurse bolted by the waiting area, and two other medical staffers followed within seconds.

Trinity’s heart stopped, and she stood to see where they’d gone.

Brooke’s room.

The uniformed cop who’d sat outside Brooke’s door was on his cell phone, alarm on his face, pacing in and out of Brooke’s room as medical staff rushed the room.

It’s a code.

Beside her, Katy stood and grasped Trinity’s hand, squeezing tight as she watched the personnel fill the room. “Oh, no,” she whispered. Trinity’s heart echoed her words.

Shrieks from Brooke’s mother reached Trinity’s ears. She clapped one hand over an ear, unwilling to let go of Katy’s grip, but the sounds didn’t quiet. They thundered in her head.

Brooke.





He frowned at the article in the newspaper. They were looking at the old cases again? They’d kept the evidence all these years? He’d assumed the bodies had been cremated or buried. How could the medical examiner’s office have room to store unidentified remains for decades? He read the article again, slower this time, squinting in the dim light. It was noon, but the rain clouds and tall trees blocked the sun around his home. And his eyes were old. All of him was old. He hated his old body, the constant pain and unsteadiness. In his youth he’d been strong, a leader people looked up to and asked for guidance.

Now he had only a few followers.

He’d read long ago that unidentified bodies were donated to the medical school. In fact, a few years back there’d been a big issue when the body of a transient had been donated, and then the family had come looking for him. The family had made a big publicity stink, and no doubt the medical examiner had changed the policy. But he was stunned that the three unidentified women were readily available. Would the old bones reveal new facts?

The words on the paper blurred, then sharpened. According to the article, the women had been reduced to simple skeletons. They probably didn’t take up much space. Perhaps they had rooms and rooms full of boxes of old skeletons, waiting through the decades for relatives to claim them.

Technology and education had come a long way. Could they identify them with current techniques? He shook his head. Someone had to report them missing first so there would be a record to compare to. And no one was going to report these women.

These women had been abandoned. They were unwanted.

His phone rang and he pushed out of his chair, standing stiffly. He shuffled across the room and picked up the old receiver.

He listened, pondering the problem presented. Someone had made an inquiry into the identity of one of the old cases. Someone he knew very well.

There was no question of what had to be done. He gave his orders and hung up the phone.

Well. So much for his theory that no one would come forward for the old women. Why had Lorenzo spoken now?

Lorenzo would find out how wrong he was.

His gaze rested on the face of the female doctor in the paper. Dr. Victoria Peres. She was obviously a respected expert in her field. In his day, a respected woman took good care of her house and man. His lips formed a sneer. Today’s world was on a road to ruin. Kids killing each other, drugs, music, and naked women everywhere. His son had demonstrated on his computer how women plastered images and videos of themselves as they did sinful acts. Shameless. Corrupting the minds of young men everywhere. The United States was going to hell.

This female doctor expected to find something new with these old bones. He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know all of her abilities, but he knew he couldn’t allow her to get a good look at the bones. He’d seen TV shows where they tracked down suspects from a single hair. Or a dog’s hair. Or saliva on a cup. He couldn’t risk present-day technology picking apart the remains of those women.

Old Lorenzo would be dealt with, but how could he fix this new problem? Doing something about the Bone Lady was completely out of the question, so he had to address the bones. He looked at the picture again. Even in the black-and-white print, he could feel the woman’s excitement during her lecture to the college class. She’d done well for herself, but in the long run she was just another woman trying to fill a man’s role. Part of him admired her for her education and success. The other part was sad for the obvious misfit that she’d become. What man would want to marry such a powerful woman? He knew she’d already failed at one marriage.