Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan, #17)(21)

The place was packed. We decided on Mortimer’s. No reason except seating was immediately available.

I ordered the Asian chicken wrap. Ryan chose the Panthers pita. His looked better than mine.

When finished, we did our usual grab for the check. Our fingers brushed, and I felt heat sear my skin. Jerked my hand back. Down, Brennan. It’s over.

But I’d scored a rare victory. Ryan was definitely not on his game.

We were exiting onto College Street when my phone vibrated to tell me I had voicemail. I pulled it from my purse, expecting a message from Slidell.

Area code 828. I felt a zap of apprehension. Heatherhill Farm had called at eight-fifteen. I clicked on to listen. “Dr. Brennan. It’s Luna Finch. I thought you should know. Your mother—she didn’t come to dinner. When we checked her room, she wasn’t there. We’ve searched the house and grounds, will do so again, then move on to other parts of the facility. I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you know where she might have gone, could you please give us a ring? Thank you.”

“Damn!” I hit redial. “Freakin’ damn!”

Ryan had paused when I stopped walking. “Problem?”

“I just need a minute to clear something up.”

Far away in the mountains, Finch’s phone rang. Rang again.

“Dr. Finch.”

“It’s Temperance Brennan.” I turned my back, a not-so-subtle hint.

Ryan moved off a few paces to allow me privacy. In the corner of my eye, I saw him shake free a cigarette and light it.

“We found her. I’m sorry to have bothered you. But she failed to sign out. She’s never done that before.”

“Where was she?”

“In the computer center, on the floor of a carrel. She’d placed a cart across the entrance and hidden behind it. That’s why we didn’t see her on the first sweep.”

“She has her own laptop.” This didn’t make sense. “Why go there?”

“The Wi-Fi was down in River House. You know how it is in the mountains.”

“She couldn’t wait until service was restored?”

I heard a long sigh. “Daisy feels she is intentionally being kept offline.”

“Was that the reason for the cart?”

“I’m afraid so. She feels she’s being watched.”

“She’s crashed since I saw her on Wednesday.”

“No, actually, she’s seemed quite happy. A bit distracted, perhaps. Introspective. Like she has something on her mind.”

“Where is she now?”

“Taking a bath. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Jesus Christ. Fine was the last thing she’d be. The woman was dying.

“Shall I try to speak to her?” I was pleased with my tone. Not a hint of the fear churning inside me.

After a slight pause, “Wait an hour. She’ll have a snack, then settle into bed with her journal.”

I disconnected. Turned on the ringer, then dropped the phone into my purse. Stood a moment, steadying my nerves.

Mama was journaling. Always a prelude to the downward spiral.

Ryan was ten feet up the walk. In the glow of the Epicentre’s copious neon, his face looked eroded down to orange and green bone.

I wormed toward him through the throng of Friday-night revelers.

“Everything okay?” Crushing the cigarette with his heel.

“Dandy.”

An awkward beat, then, “Buy you a sarsaparilla, ma’am?” Bad cowboy drawl.

We both tried to smile at the old shtick. Didn’t really pull it off.

“I’d better get home,” I said.

Ryan nodded.

That was when the call came in. Thinking it was Finch again, and fearing a crisis, I clicked on.

“It’s Slidell.”

Skinny never opened by identifying himself. I waited.

“We’ve got her.”

It took a moment. Then terrible realization. “Shelly Leal?”

“A guy collecting weeds or seeds or some shit stumbled across her body about seven-fifteen.” Tight.

“Where?”

“Lower McAlpine Creek Greenway, under the I-485 overpass.” In the background I could hear voices, the hum of traffic. Guessed Slidell was at the scene.

“Has Larabee arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he need me?” Leal had been missing a week. Depending on how long she’d been there and the severity of animal scavenging, body parts could be dragged and scattered.

“Doc says he’s got it covered. Just wanted you to have a heads-up that he’ll be doing the post first thing tomorrow. Says he wouldn’t mind you being present.”

“Of course.” I was silent a moment as I thought about what to ask. “The weed collector. Does he seem solid?”

“Hasn’t stopped crying and puking since I been here. I doubt he’s in play.”

“Same MO?”

“Clothed and posed.” Clipped.

“Does Tinker know?”

“Oh, yeah. The *’s acting all mind-hunter, pissing everyone off.”

“He’s not a profiler.”

“Try telling him that. Is Ryan with you?”

“Yes.”