Page 69 of The Bone Code
I’d worn a silk dress for our “date” at Leméac. The fabric was as wrinkled as the face of a mountain apple doll, the bright red mottled by raindrops and smeared with blood.
I brushed both hands over the skirt and tugged the sleeves down to my wrists. Pointless. No one I saw would care how I looked. I dug Ryan’s keys from the plastic bag holding his belongings, grabbed my coat, and left.
Out on the street, my mobile offered five full bars. I flipped screens and clicked on an icon.
It was rush hour. The Uber would take twenty minutes.
To pass the time, I checked my messages. No texts, one voice mail. A number in Charleston, South Carolina.
I clicked on. Listened.
“Vislosky here. Thought you’d want to know. Jessica Jeben is alive and shacking with her man Sling in Myrtle Beach. So we’re back to base zero. You have questions, you know where to reach me.”
It was too early to return Vislosky’s call. And I was too shattered.
Behind me, dawn was lighting the empty spaces between the hospital’s many buildings and gleaming off the meltwater-crusted snow. Above me, the branches of a maple shifted stiffly in a breeze.
The Uber arrived after thirty minutes, a green Dodge Dart with a driver named Farid. Farid drove me to Ryan’s Jeep. I drove the Jeep to the condo.
After feeding Birdie, I stripped off and tossed the devastated dress. Then I showered for a very long time. Before dropping into bed, I lowered the window shades and set the alarm for noon.
Birdie joined me, nonjudgmental over his night spent solo. Perhaps sensing my distress, he pressed close and set to purring in earnest.
Though comforting, the cat wasn’t enough. At that moment, I needed human solace.
I dialed Anne. Her voice mail answered.
Of course, it did. The clock said 7:22 a.m. I left a message. Call me.
Mama was incommunicado on one of her spiritual retreats.
Katy was in Afghanistan.
Pete? Nope. My ex had problems of his own.
The bed was so big. So empty.
I felt utterly alone.
And for the first time in my life, I felt true hatred and rage.
Lying there, I was overcome with a loathing so intense I could taste it in my mouth. I burned with a primal yearning to hunt down the person who’d injured Ryan.
But who was that person? A man, I assumed.
Why?
Was Ryan the target? Was I? Were we both?
I knew what I had to do.
17
Saturday, October 30
Clanging church bells jarred me awake.
It took several seconds to orient.
