Page 25 of Evil Bones
“We think so, sir.”
“Thank God!” With a smile so big it split the unimpressive face in two.
Lifting his chin, Joye craned to look past us, cerulean eyes scanning the windows of my car.
As a member of countless death investigation teams, I’d performedthat moment’s task far too often, delivering news that would usher in pain, perhaps change a life forever. The job never got easy.
Even if the tidings concerned a pet.
“My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan,” I began, as gently as I could. “I work for the Mecklenburg County Medical Examiner.”
“Where’s Bear? Where’s my dog?”
“I’m afraid I have bad news, sir.”
Joye’s eyes whipped back to mine. For a moment he said nothing. Then, reading the signs, he mumbled,
“Bear is dead.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sure it’s Bear?”
“We found an implanted chip identifying the dog as yours.”
“Yes. I had that done.”
Joye’s jaw tensed as the significance of my self-introduction wormed through his grief.
“The medical examiner. Like, the coroner?”
“Yes.”
“Why would the coroner care about a dead dog?”
“May we come in, sir?”
“Who’s he?” Joye chin-cocked Balodis.
“Dr. Balodis is a veterinarian,” I said, surprised that Joye didn’t recall the man from their cigar-smoking days. Assumed it was due to the vet’s altered appearance.
A moment of hesitation, then Joye stepped back.
Balodis and I entered a postage stamp foyer. A framed mirror hung on the wall to the right. A bench with a hinged seat occupied the space to the left.
Pegs ran in a row above the bench, three of the four holding canine paraphernalia. A leash. A harness. A cable-knit sweater with the nameBearembroidered across its turtleneck collar.
Joye led us down a narrow hall to a kitchen at the rear of the house. Pointed to a pine table with four matching chairs.
Balodis and I sat. Our host remained standing, arms crossed on his chest.
“I should offer you something.” Delivered with zero enthusiasm.
“We’re good, sir.”
Joye drew one breath.
“Okay,” he said tonelessly. “Give it to me straight.”
