Page 21 of In the Bones
A piece of hair fell across Nicole’s cheek, tickling her skin, but she made no move to right it. Nicole was fairly certain she was going to be sick.
Someone had committed a murder, and they’d stashed the body in the house.
And if she was following, if Nicole was clueing in at all, the state police thought that someone could be Mikko.
NINETEEN
Nicole
“Ispent hours alone in that house,” said Nicole, reaching once more for her drink. “With a stranger above me, and a dead body below.”
It was the first time she’d put the situation into words, and the horror of it all knocked her sideways. How could it be real? Things like this didn’t happen in Cape Vincent. They didn’t happen to Nicole Durham, with her simple dreams and sensible life. It was happening now, though. Cracking her world open like a hammer to a skull.
They were at The Brig, balanced on pleather stools at the bar while all around them patrons shouted out orders and sloshed pints of beer on the floor. Nicole had been told to keep the details of the case to herself until the local news picked up the story, but she was desperate to talk. She needed to wrap her head around what had turned out to be one hell of a day.
She needed Stacy.
“So the cops think he did it?” The way Stacy’s eyes glittered, equally curious and concerned, made Nicole feel ill at ease. Stacy had ordered a rye and Diet Coke, her go-to cocktail, and was turning the glass on the bar top as if sawing an invisible hole. Nicole imagined the glass falling through, Saturday morning cartoon-style. She pictured making herself small and diving in after it. Wherever that hole led, it had to be better than here.
“I honestly don’t know,” Nicole answered at length. “They asked me about him, though—what Mikko is like, how he treats me and his girlfriend. They wanted to know if I found any weapons. Weapons! I mean, what the fuck? He has to be involved, right? What the hell are the odds that he had no idea?”
“What the hell are the odds of any of this?” Stacy waved ahand, her gold bangle bracelets clacking. “A woman hides out in a house where someone already hid a body? The whole thing’s insane.”
Itwasinsane. From the moment she first heard about Mikko, she hadn’t trusted him, but now, somehow, he was at the center of a murder investigation. Who the hell was this guy?
“The detectives didn’t come right out and say that Mikko’s a suspect,” Nicole said, “but I got the sense they think it’s too much of a coincidence. This random woman picking that particular house and finding the skeleton while she was there … like,how? I asked a bunch of questions, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t even know if the victim’s a man or a woman. Poor Eva.” Nicole couldn’t stop thinking about her, and what it must be like to learn your boyfriend might be a murderer. Nicole had some experience with men breaking her trust, and it was horrible.
She’d been talking for almost an hour while Stacy sipped her drink, letting Nicole get it out of her system, but as she looked at her friend now, Nicole felt a jolt. “I’m an asshole. I made this whole thing all about me, but you spent time in that house too. Are you OK?” The question sounded weak, even to her. Too little too late.
“I mean, I’m not sure what this is going to do to my agent ratings, but I’ll probably live.” Stacy pulled her frosted pink lips into a smile. “Jesus Christ, Nic. Think this qualifies us for free therapy?”
“I hope so. We’re both gonna need it.”
“You’ve needed it for a long time.” Stacy squeezed her hand so hard that Nicole’s wedding ring gouged her finger.
Nicole could only nod. When was it finally going to sink in? It had been nine months since she found out what Woody had done, and there was no pretending it wasn’t true, because it was Stacy who’d told her.
It had been a Sunday morning, and she’d just gotten out of the shower when Stacy called. Nicole had stood naked and dripping on the bath mat, phone gripped in her hand as her chest filled with so much heat it felt like she’d swallowed a flare. Grief, she realized that day, has a color. It isn’t black likepeople think, but pure, limitless white. Grief doesn’t wrap you up like a dark cloak or plunge you into the suffocating warmth of night. It’s sharp and its blinding, searing your eyes and your skin with its relentless glare. Even now, Nicole’s grief over Woody’s infidelity trapped her in a huge, empty room like the ones used to represent heaven on TV. As she sat in the bar with her friend, she remembered exactly what it felt like to cry until your eyes were glued shut.
Two men in their thirties sidled over, offering to buy them both drinks.
“It’s girls’ night. Shoo,” Stacy said without apology, turning back to face Nicole. Nicole loved this about her; Stacy had no qualms about telling total strangers to fuck off, nor did she take issue with free drinks if the moment was right. “I kind of feel responsible,” she said. “I sold him the house. I’m the one who recommended that he hire you. It’s my fault you were in there. His girlfriend, too.”
“Working there was my idea,” said Nicole. “This isn’t your fault. They asked me about you too, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?”
“They want to talk to everyone who spent time in the house. I gave them your contact info. Hope that’s OK.”
“Of course,” Stacy said, flashing a smile. “It’s odd, though, don’t you think? The timing? The house was under construction for months. All those people in and out, and nobody found the bones sooner?”
“The detectives said there was a secret room. I guess no one saw it.”
“But that woman did? After just a few days, most of which she had to spend hiding out in the attic? How’d she get so lucky?”
“I don’t know if I’d call that luck, but yeah,” said Nicole. “You make a good point.” The timing wasodd, and not just of the discovery. “One of the detectives, Valerie Ott? She called the bodyskeletonized remains. Wouldn’t that mean it’s been down there a long time?”
“I guess? More than a few days, for sure.”
