Alone (Bone Secrets, #4)(62)

“A walk-in,” he told her as he ended his call. “He paid cash. Now they’re noticing the form he filled out has a bunch of bogus information.”

“He?” Victoria asked.

Seth nodded. “They couldn’t tell me much about how he looks. Hat, jacket, jeans, and wet. Just like everyone else in Portland today. And they don’t have cameras.” Seth ran his finger down the edge of the paper. “Chances are this is a hoax.”

“I know. So it should be easy to disprove.”

“Let’s call that reporter friend of yours. See what he can dig up on this name and address first.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“I’ll call. And then we might go for a drive.”

Victoria agreed.


It seemed like forever before Michael got his information back to Seth. Victoria sat in her desk chair, unable to keep her feet or hands still. She tapped pencils and pens. She crossed and uncrossed her legs as Seth talked to Michael on the phone. She’d left the matter in his hands. Ever since the note, her mind had been unable to form a coherent thought. Two mantras blasted a path through her brain.

Is this my mother?

Who is doing this and why?

Seth was doing a lot of “Uh-huh” and “Hmmm” on the phone, scribbling notes on a pad with his cell tucked between his shoulder and ear. Every now and then he’d meet her gaze, his fiercely serious as he listened to Michael.

He hung up and Victoria held her breath.

Seth looked at his pad. “There really is an Isabel Favero and this is the address listed for her. She doesn’t own the home; she rents. She is fifty-five, single, and currently unemployed.”

He looked at Victoria and frowned. “Breathe,” he ordered.

She inhaled and pressed her lips together. So far, nothing had ruled it a prank.

“She’s been married three times and has four children. None appear to live with her.”

Possibly five.

Do I have siblings?

“She has a past address in Seaport.”

Victoria straightened in her chair. Where I was adopted.

“The address is the same as the church where your parents attended. The church burned down twenty-five years ago.”

Victoria nodded. She’d remembered that. Her parents had been upset that their previous church had burned, and a very young Victoria had questioned what had happened to the grandpa-like pastor. Her parents had assured her no one was hurt. But she’d always wondered if the kind old man had rebuilt his church somewhere else. “Wait. She lived at the church? I don’t understand.”

“Could be a number of things. Maybe she worked there and got her mail there. Maybe she just needed some sort of mailing address. It was pretty rural out there at the time. I doubt she actually lived in the building.”

Nerves bubbled up inside of her. They weren’t excitement nerves or dread nerves. Simply sheer stimulation. This day had taken an odd turn of events. “I haven’t heard anything to rule her out.”

Seth nodded. “I agree.” He paused and stared at his pad.

“What? What else did you find out?”

Seth licked his lips. “Brody pulled up her driver’s license photo.”

“And?”

“He says there could be a resemblance. Black hair, brown eyes.”

Victoria swallowed hard. “Oh my God. This might be real,” she whispered.

Seth squatted in front of her chair, his hands on her thighs, his eyes earnest. “Listen. No hopes up, okay? Someone could have engineered this. I don’t know why, but don’t rule it out, okay?”

“I need to go see. I have to know.” She ran a hand through her hair. She’d never wanted anything so badly in her life. The “not knowing” made her want to vomit.

“Okay, let’s go take a look at the address.” He took her hand and helped her out of the chair.

She knew he hadn’t missed the icy sweat on her palms.





“What do you mean, you don’t know where Jason is?” The old man stared at Leo. His worthless excuse for a son was sniveling, terrified of him.

“I’ve checked with all his friends. I went to their homes and looked. I don’t know where he slept last night.” He looked around the room, avoiding his father’s gaze.

The old man moved in his seat, wishing he could stand up easier. The pain in his legs was a constant companion. Drugstore painkillers no longer helped. And he would never visit a doctor. They asked too many questions and threw drugs at every problem. Medical nonsense. God gave him pain; why would he fight against God’s will? Suffering was part of life. Today’s society spent too much effort to avoid suffering. Pain was good for the soul.

He wouldn’t allow his son the pleasure of watching him struggle to stand, but he didn’t like the fact that his son was looking down at him. It created a subtle advantage. He preferred to have the higher ground during this type of discussion.

“And… and there’s one more thing,” his son whispered.

The old man looked up. That tone didn’t bode well, and his son looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet. Anger flared in his chest. “Well?” he barked. “What is it? What else has happened?”

His son twisted his hands together, misery in his expression. “The bones. When I went to get the skulls, they were gone.”