The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(13)

“I think my grandfather had one of these,” Mettner said, taking the arrowhead from Josie and feeling its weight in his palm. “But it was a different color.”

“Probably flint or quartz then,” Hummel said. “What else do we have here?”

Josie picked up the third item—a belt buckle which was heavy and large, easily the size of her palm, and gold plated with two rifles on the front, their barrels crossed over the top of an etching of several pine trees. Below that, it was embossed with the date 1973. She handed it to Mettner.

He asked, “How old was Colette Fraley in 1973?”

“Her early twenties, I think,” Josie replied. “But I don’t think that belonged to her.”

“What about Mr. Fraley?” Mettner asked. “Could this be his?”

“I suppose. All I know is that Colette and Noah’s dad divorced when Noah was eighteen. He moved away. None of the kids keep in touch with him, but we could track him down and ask him about it. Laura, his sister, is supposed to text me his phone number.”

“We’ll do that but if it’s not her ex-husband’s, whose is it? What’s a woman like Colette Fraley doing with a forty-five-year-old belt buckle, a Native American arrowhead, and a flash drive marked ‘Pratt’ on it hidden in the bottom of her sewing machine?” Mettner said.

Hummel held up the flash drive. “This seems like the most sensible place to start. You should take it back to the station house and check it out before we dust it for prints. The fumigation from the printing process might compromise the contents.”

Mettner held out a paper evidence bag and Hummel dropped it inside. “Will do,” he said.

“Get a warrant,” Josie told him. “For the contents. If we don’t get one, and it turns out to be of critical importance, it could be inadmissible.”

“Okay,” Mettner said. “I’ll write one up. Then we’ll see if this is what our killer was looking for.”





Nine





Josie knew it would be a couple of hours before they had a warrant to access the flash drive, but when she drove back to Noah’s house she found no one home. A quick text to him directed her to the nearest funeral home—the same funeral home where her late husband, Ray Quinn’s funeral service had been held four years earlier. Her heart did a double tap as she passed through its heavy wooden doors. It was just as she remembered, with thick carpets and walls that muffled any sound, decorated in somber tones probably meant to soothe but which only made Josie’s stomach turn. She had been to more than her fair share of funerals since the missing girls case that killed Ray and had no desire to attend anymore, certainly not one for Colette Fraley.

But there Colette’s children sat in the director’s office, ringed around a large desk, faces tear-stained and stricken as the funeral director showed them a selection of caskets from a large binder. After quietly nodding at Laura and Grady and giving Theo a quick hug, she sat down beside Noah and took his hand. Josie tried to focus on the discussion, but her mind kept drifting back to the items in Colette’s sewing machine. Who, or what was Pratt?

“Josie?” Noah asked.

She shook herself back into the room and offered him a smile. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Laura spoke up. “Did you speak to the medical examiner? When will our mother be released to us?”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I did. She’ll be released tomorrow.”

All heads turned back toward the director as a discussion about dates ensued. Then came the issue of money; even if they went for the more inexpensive route of cremation, they were still looking at thousands of dollars. There was a small discussion amongst the siblings which was eventually resolved by the agreement that they would each pay one third of the costs, and they would be reimbursed when the payout from Collette’s small life insurance policy came through.

Once the meeting was over, they decided to go to lunch, although none of them looked as though they had an appetite. Theo drove off toward the restaurant in his rental car, and after Noah assured them he would get a ride with Josie, Laura and Grady followed in her SUV. Josie and Noah hung back, standing at the entrance to the funeral home. At least it was a nice day, Josie thought as the sun warmed them and a cool breeze caressed their faces.

“My car is right over there,” Josie said when Noah made no move toward the parking lot.

He stood staring into the distance, face blank.

Josie touched his arm. “Noah?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“You know, you don’t have to go to lunch. I’m sure your brother and sister would understand.”

He said nothing.

She didn’t want to do it, but she also had no idea when the next time they’d be alone would be, so she cleared her throat and said, “Noah, does the name ‘Pratt’ mean anything to you?”

He turned his head to look at her, brows knit together. “What?”

“Pratt,” Josie repeated. “Is it familiar to you? Do you know anyone by that name?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I was with Mettner at your mother’s house earlier. A few things upstairs were disturbed. We were trying to straighten up in your mother’s sewing room and found some… things hidden in the base of her sewing machine. One was a flash drive with the name ‘Pratt’ written on it.”