The Bones Will Speak Read Free Page A

not leaving you alone with your prize. Heel.” We crossed the yard to the house. “Sit. Now, stay. I’m not handling that thing with my bare hands, even dung-covered.” I stepped into the kitchen, scrubbed up, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and a large paper grocery bag, then went outside. After placing the skull in the bag, I folded the top closed and carried it to my studio. Winston trailed behind.
    I set the package on my drafting table. A host of nightmarish insects were in there. What if they got out? I rubbed my arms to make the little hairs lie down, then fastened a continuous line of staples across the top and applied two-inch tape over the staples.
    â€œMom?”
    I jumped and dropped the tape.
    Aynslee, my fourteen-year-old daughter, stood at the door. “You got a phone call. Some attorney or something from Spokane. He said you’re getting a subpoena on an old case.”
    â€œDid he say what case?”
    â€œSomething about a priest. When’s dinner?”
    â€œDinner? Is it that late?” I glanced at my watch. “Turn on the oven. We’ll have pizza tonight. Special treat.”
    â€œIt’s not special if we have it every night,” Aynslee muttered as she left the room.
    â€œWe didn’t have it last night,” I called after her.
    â€œYes, we did. Pepperoni. And two nights ago we had sausage and extra cheese.”
    You’d think the child would be grateful I wasn’t cooking. Tuna noodle casserole with potato-chip topping was the extent of my culinary skills. A blast of rain struck the windows, pelting it like tiny marbles, and a deep rumbling shook the glass. Winston raised his head from his bed in the corner.
    â€œDon’t worry, ole boy. It’s just thunder.” I cupped my hands against the window to block out the room’s light and watched the storm gather momentum, then turned and stared at the paper sack. “How long have you waited,” I whispered, “for someone to find you?”

CHAPTER TWO
    THE FIRST DROP STRUCK HER FACE.
    Mattie Banksstirred and moaned. Another cold drip fell on her cheek, crept to her chin, hovered for a moment, then slithered down her neck. She shivered, opened her eyes, and blinked.
    Nothing changed the absolute blackness.
    Her head thumped. That rodent, Ace, must have sold her some bad coke. Again.
    The thumping increased. Not just her brain. The drumming of liquid . . . or was it rain hitting metal overhead?
    She tried to move. Something held her arms—her hands—together behind her. She tugged. What? The answer smacked her like a judge’s gavel.
    That man.
    Jerking harder, stabbing agony shot up her arms, the juvenile arthritis that twisted her fingers protested her movements. Her stupid copper bracelet didn’t help the pain at all. I’m fourteen and already have old-lady hands.
    She lay still. Her heart beat in time to the patter of water. Her head seemed full of dust, her thoughts whirling around and hard to form. She needed to hook one, pin it down. Gotta think. That man. Think about that man. Where was he? He knocked her out, but for how long? He must’ve hit her and thrown her . . . where?
    Her stomach heaved and throat burned. Did that dirtbag poison her? Give her bad stuff? She struggled like a bird caught in a net until her bound ankles rapped sharply against something metal.
    The pain all over her body made her gasp and squeeze her eyes shut, pinching out rare tears. Wheezing short puffs of air, she waited until she could catch her breath. Another drop tapped her eye, and she jerked. Lay still! Think. She forced her muddled brain to sort things out. Metal. Plastic. A smell she couldn’t place. She was folded into a tiny area. Like a car trunk, but small. If she was in the trunk of a car, it wasn’t moving.
    Opening her mouth to scream for help, she froze, then clamped it shut and listened. Beyond the tapping above her head, there was a hissing sound