Page 63 of Evil Bones
“Is Timeless Peace one of those operated by the city?”
“Negative. It’s private.”
“When do the owners think the body was taken?”
“Sometime last week.”
“Did they report it?”
“They were unaware of the situation until yesterday. Like I suspected, their security is shit.”
We spoke a few more moments, then disconnected.
I returned to the kitchen.
Looked around in shock.
Ruthie was gone.
CHAPTER 14
The back door stood wide open. Beyond the screen, I could hear the usual pre-twilight symphony of crickets and frogs. The rhythmictic-tic-ticof a neighbor’s sprinkler. The distant hum of traffic on Queens Road.
Hurrying across the room, I slipped outside.
The evening was early September warm and muggy, the air heavy with the scents of overripe peonies, damp earth, and mown grass. Of water that had passed through a spigot and hose. And of something else, sweet and earthy.
A substance rich with terpenes.
Ruthie was a dark cutout against a sunset slowly yielding its color to the woolly gray of dusk. She sat atop my garden table, slumped, back toward me, arms hanging between splayed knees.
As I watched, she raised a hand to her face. A small oval glowed orange, lighting her features and carving soft valleys around them. A moment, then smoke paler than the deepening twilight coned from her mouth.
“Hey, lady,” I said.
Her head whipped around.
“You startled me.”
“Didn’t mean to.” There. I didn’t say sorry.
“I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Raising the joint, which was squeezed between her right index finger and thumb.
“You do know that weed can alter your judgment,” I said, only half joking.
“Kind of like political ads.”
“Good point.” The kid really was funny.
“I don’t smoke often. Honest. And I only do it when and where I know I’ll be safe.”
“Grass isn’t legal recreationally in North Carolina.” Christ. I sounded like a hundred-year-old granny.
“I know.”
“If you plan to apply to colleges soon, a drug bust on your record could complicate things.”
She shrugged.
