At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(84)

“I’m doing well, thank you. Although it’s hotter than hell here, even at whatever time of the night it is right now. How are you, brother?”

“Sorry. I’m in the middle of a particularly troublesome case.”

“Aren’t all your cases particularly troublesome? But this one is about bog bodies, I take it. That, at least, sounds promising.”

“It is. About bog bodies, I mean. And it’s a bit urgent, if you don’t mind.”

“Then we’ll save the pleasantries for another day. How can I help?”

Evan felt a twinge of guilt. “I should ask how Mother is, I suppose.”

“You do know that she’s closer to you than to me.”

“Only if we’re speaking geographically. But never mind. I’ll gird my loins and call her in a few days. What I want to know is if there have been any recent bog body discoveries. Say, in the last twenty to thirty years. I’m looking especially for something odd. Maybe something unusual or disturbing that happened when the body was excavated.”

River’s low whistle came through the line. “It’s been eons since I’ve been knee-deep in bogs, poking around for dead bodies. I’m not sure I can pull up anything useful.”

“I thought perhaps you could ring up your old Cambridge professor. Dr. Valtos. He’s Mr. Bog Body himself, isn’t he?”

River laughed. “Did you know that Valtos means swamp in Greek?”

“I did, actually. Can you give him a call?”

“Happy to. Bog bodies, last twenty to thirty years, something weird. Does that cover it?”

“Pretty much. I’d especially like to know of any potentially traumatic situations where a child was involved. Something that would have made a lasting impression.”

“Now you’ve got me curious. If anyone would know of a case like that, it would be Valtos. Although he retired six or seven years back. I’ve heard he spends a lot of time fly-fishing in Scotland.”

“Then let’s hope he’s better than I am at carrying his phone around.”

“Guess we’ll find out.” The line went quiet for a moment. Then River said, “You doing okay, big brother? You sound a tad . . . frantic. Which isn’t like you.”

Evan picked up the photo of River from his desk. The one that showed his younger brother on horseback, tall and rakish among the Bedouins. It was the photo Diana had drooled over.

There had been a time when Evan hated his baby brother. For being of average size. For being charming. For being, more than anything, the apple of their mother’s eye. River had been Olivia’s do-over. A chance to set things right by proving she could pop out a perfect child.

But despite everything, Evan had fallen in love with the kid. And River, bless his heart, had continued to look up to Evan long after he could no longer do so literally. They’d had a lot of adventures together. Some intellectually rewarding. Some hair-raising.

With luck, they’d have many more.

“It’s just this case,” Evan said. “I’m doing fine. And you?”

“Bloody hot, like I said. But we’re finding amazing stuff, Evan. Amazing. You should come out, take a look. Keep me company for a few months. What’s holding you in Chicago?”

A very good question. With one or two good answers and a few more on the fringe.

Were those answers enough?

Outside the windows, storm clouds had regathered. The shadows in the room stretched to fill the space until Evan and the furniture were swallowed by the gloom.

He flicked on the desk lamp. The shadows retreated. But not by much.

“It would be nice to keep you company,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“I’ll count on it. It’s been ages. And we’re family. We should see each other now and again.” A yawn. “I’d better get a little shut-eye while it’s dark. It’ll be a hundred and twenty in the shade before I know it. But first I’ll try Dr. Valtos. I’ll keep you posted.”

They said their goodbyes, and River rang off.

Evan pressed the “Off” button, but before he could dial out, the phone squawked in his hand. This is why I don’t carry a phone around, he thought.

“Addie?”

“Sorry, my friend,” Simon said without preamble. “I’m going to have to give you a rain check on happy hour. The work is taking longer than I expected. It’s a marvelous trove. Just wonderful.”

Evan found himself unexpectedly grumpy. Everyone but him was finding great things. All he was looking for were answers, and he was finding bloody few of those.

In the meantime, the killer was still out there. Or so he assumed. He hadn’t even had a chance to listen to the messages on his office phone. He had no doubt Addie had left one or two. Or, more likely, fifty.

Simon was still talking. “. . . client stepped outside to have a cigarette. I thought I’d call you and fill you in on Ralph Rhinehart.”

“I’m all ears,” Evan said. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the wooden figurine someone had delivered to his office. The stick man on his stick horse. He set it on his desk, in the pool of light.

Simon said, “You are probably aware that Ralph Rhinehart’s parents were quite respected in the rare-book industry, yes?”