Page 139 of Evil Bones
Slidell arrived with siren screaming, lights blazing. Ryan was riding shotgun.
Any energy I still possessed was spent on resisting their efforts to take me to a hospital. On insisting that they instead check on Katy.
When I shared my captor’s comment about my fear of losing loved ones, they eagerly agreed to locate my daughter. The ER issue was a two-on-one battle, with Ryan and Slidell united in their opinion that I needed medical attention.
I repeatedly assured them that I was fine. At Ryan’s insistence, I passed a pupil check and performed a straight-line walk. Tests I felt were more appropriate for a suspected DUI than a concussion.
In the end, I won. After I promised to file an official report the next day, Slidell drove me home.
Now I didn’t care that Skinny and Ryan were waiting in my parlor. Though relieved that the cat had returned home safely, I ignored Birdie’s scratching at the bathroom door. I showered until the water turned cold.
Then, head towel-wrapped and wearing sweats, I barefooted downstairs.
One of the two had made a Starbucks run. A collection ofplastic-lidded cups covered the coffee table, each featuring the green siren logo. Each a size Grande. All but one empty.
Great. In addition to Skinny’s normal hair-trigger temper, I’d be dealing with two guys wired on caffeine.
Though hardly in the mood, and committed to giving a full statement the next day, I’d provided a summary before heading upstairs, including everything I felt could possibly be germane. The bee sting. The tunnels. The constantly changing voice during the strange underground conversation with my captor. My sprint through the rain. Arty and his grudging phone call.
“Any idea who might have snatched you and why?” Slidell had asked when I’d finished.
While lying helpless underground I’d given these questions serious thought. Twisted and turned them and considered every possible explanation. My probing had yielded only two oddities in the recent past that seemed remotely relevant.
The first was Lester Meloy’s dinnertime comment on the use of humans as test subjects. Had I been a player in one of his sick experiments?
The second was Danielle Hall’s familiarity with the city’s infrastructure. Had she used her knowledge of the underground network of storm tunnels to imprison me?
“It could be a huge coincidence,” I’d said. “But Meloy and Hall?”
I mentioned both names, concluding with the strange fact that my captor had tossed me the knife.
Slidell had taken it all in, face reddening to the point I feared a cardiac episode. Then, predictably, he’d stormed out the door and roared off in his Trailblazer.
In his typical hotheaded fashion, Skinny ordered the arrest of Meloy and Hall. I’d barely finished my soap-and-suds cathartic when he was back at the Annex with news that both were en route to Mecklenburg County Jail Central.
“Charged with what?” I asked.
“We’re working on that,” Slidell said.
“Did you speak to Katy or Ruthie?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve tried twice but neither answers her phone.”
“I’ll send a unit by the kid’s town house,” Slidell said.
For a moment no one spoke.
“Can you positively ID Hall or Meloy as the person who took you down into the tunnels?” Ryan asked, a variation on the question Slidell had posed before racing off in his Trailblazer earlier.
“No.” I’d thought about it. A lot.
“Shit,” Slidell said. Again. With feeling.
“Try to remember,” Ryan said gently. “Even the smallest detail could be helpful.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
