Page 171 of The Bone Code
“You’re thinking the prick might also be good for Murray?”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“By the way, the e-nerds got into that tape we found at the hostel. Most of the footage was toast, but they managed to salvage and digitize parts.”
“Was the recording made by Melanie Chalmers?”
“Yeah. I had them transfer a copy onto a thumb drive. I want you to take a look at it.”
That surprised me. “Of course.”
“I’ll be in Mount Pleasant tomorrow.”
That also surprised me, since the town has its own police department.
“There’s a protest at city hall because of this capno crap. I’m doing freakin’ crowd control. You’re on IOP, right?”
“Yes.”
“You know the Sea Biscuit?”
“I do.”
“Meet me at noon?”
“I’ll be there.”
Vislosky disconnected.
After killing the light and the TV, I lay back and closed my eyes. Birdie molded his body to my rib cage.
The ocean boomed its relentless rhythm, muted by the glass. The empty house hummed hollow around me.
Images danced on the backs of my lids, specters raised by my incipient theory.
It’s impossible. No one could be that evil.
I rolled to my side.
The cat relocated.
I punched the pillow. Rolled to my other side.
Tomorrow I’d be viewing what may have been Melanie Chalmers’s final communiqué.
Thinking about it made my stomach pitch.
37
Saturday, November 20
Iopened my eyes to a room that was strangely silent and dim.
After disentangling from the bedding—I’d slept fitfully—I crossed to the French doors. Beyond the glass, the fog was thick enough to make snow angels.
Sliding open one panel, I stepped onto the deck. The air felt velvety damp on my skin, the wood slippery cool on the soles of my feet.
The seabirds were mute, perhaps disoriented by the hazy gray blanket enveloping their world. Not a single palm frond rustled.
