Page 129 of Evil Bones
Seriously, Brennan? You’re acting like Harry.
To distract myself, I turned my attention to overdue paperwork owed to Nguyen.
The ploy succeeded. When I next glanced at the wall clock, both hands were pointing straight up.
Le monsieurstill hadn’t returned.
Ditto Birdie.
Assuming Ryan was intrigued by all the wondrous gizmos and gadgets, or whatever it is that appeals to men’s brains in hardware stores, I decided to take a quick jog. Exercise would relax me, and I could look for Birdie. Changing to shorts, a tank, and running shoes, I headed out.
From that point, my memory grows hazy.
Sharon Hall has a small body of water at the back of the property. We call it a lake, though it hardly qualifies as such.
The lake’s inhabitants tend toward the small and unexciting—darters and shad in the water, salamanders and frogs on the banks. Surrounded by pickleweed and corkscrew rushes, except for the landscaping stones rimming its perimeter, the feature is an archetypically Carolina pond. Uninteresting to anyone but aquatic biologists.
And my cat.
Knowing Birdie would beeline for the water, I headed in that direction.
One advantage to a white pet is its visibility. Except in blizzards.
I spotted no cat on the thin strip of shoreline. No snowy tail protruding from the surrounding vegetation.
Torn between worried and irked, I scrambled up a mound of algae-coated rocks near the water’s edge. At the top, maybe ten feet off the ground, I braced my feet, hand-shielded my eyes, and did a three-sixty scan.
Saw nada.
I was beginning my descent, ass first, blindly testing for footing, when I heard movement behind me.
I froze, surprised by the adrenaline suddenly firing through me.
Then embarrassed.
Jesus, Brennan. You’ve been bellowing for the cat. Don’t scare him off.
Then, before I could turn my head, something long and sinuouswrapped my right ankle. Startled, I loosened my grip to explore my leg. Bad move. Gravity and the slimy flora colluded to send me slide-banging downward.
I don’t remember what I thought as I fell.
I didn’t scream. No time.
I recall my already raw elbows and knees yielding more skin.
A sharp crack to my head.
“… you okay, Dr. Brennan?”
Someone was crouching beside me, hands on thighs, sweaty face close to mine.
Did I recognize the features?
No name emerged from my fog-muddled brain.
“Are you hurt?”
Faux red hair. Gold ring. Gorilloid build.
