Page 114 of Evil Bones
“What are you suggesting?”
“I was right. The prick is escalating.”
I said nothing.
“The next target could be someone close to you. Or, God forbid, it could be you.”
“Let’s not get overly dramatic.”
“I’m glad Ryan will be there with you for a while.”
“Are you saying I need a man’s protection?”
“I’m saying I’m glad you won’t be alone.”
Abeepannounced an incoming call.
I tipped the phone to read the screen.
Unknown Number.
Normally I wouldn’t answer an anonymous call. But Ryan was on his way, and I feared another travel misadventure.
“Gotta go, Adi. Thanks for listening to my angsty ramblings.” Wanting to end on a positive note.
“Anytime, girlfriend. Let me know about the Dirt Monkey concert.”
“Will do.”
“Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
I disconnected and hit the button to accept the incoming call.
“Temperance Brennan.”
No one responded to my greeting.
“Hello?”
Hollow background noise.
“Is someone there?”
Nothing.
“Dickhead.” Jabbing an irritated thumb.
A case arrived at noon, bones found in a cardboard box markedPeonyin the basement of a Baptist church off Beatties Ford Road. Dry, discolored, and odorless, one look told me they were the remains of a long-dead pig.
When I phoned, the pastor, an elderly gentleman named John-David Nellie, agreed to collect and inter the deceased in the property’s small burial ground.
RIP Peony.
At two, I headed out.
A not-so-quick stop at Whole Foods, then I spent an hour making space in the fridge and pantry for all the impulse purchases I’d made. Frosted pretzels. Organic red cherries. Fuji apples. Avocados. Baby Bella mushrooms. Boston lettuce. Bok choy. Sliced prosciutto and honey maple turkey breast. Five different cheeses. Butter croissants, with and without chocolate chips. Pecan pie. Two New York strips large enough to feed Croatia. You get the picture.
