Page 2 of The Bones in the Yard

“If we’re bringing a ghost, can it be Archie?” I asked, waiting as he made his way through the doors and down the ramp to the parking lot. Ward’s other regular ghost was a Victorian lady—in both the social rank and gendered senses—named Sylvia who sometimes got a little frisky for my taste.

Ward laughed. “You don’t want to get felt up by Sylvia again?”

“Once was more than enough. My ass had a cold spot for an hour.”

He laughed about that for half the drive to the donut shop. I might have told him I hoped he’d choke on his donut.

He didn’t.

But I let him live because at least he didn’t give me shit about the date I had planned for later that night with Taavi Camal.

It would be the first time I’d see Taavi in just over six months.

The first time I’d be seeing him since he’d kissed me.

It definitely wasn’t the first time I’d thought about him.

I couldn’t tell you how many times that had happened. Maybe three or four times a day. Who am I fucking kidding? It was probably at least twice that. But now was not the time to think about it. And definitely not the time to talk about it.

When we got on the highway to head out toward Hampton Roads, fortified with donuts and coffee, I asked about the case.

“Oh, yeah,” Ward replied, pulling a file out of the satchel he’d brought with him. “So they’re setting up a museum in this old colonial house dedicated to the religious history of the region.”

“So why the fuck isn’t Doc coming out?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ward grin. “Oh, he’s working with them on the actual museum, but he’s got a meeting today, and Helen, that’s the woman he’s been working with, found something this morning that has her all freaked out. So he said I’d come out and take a look at it.”

“You? What, is it a dead person?”

“Um. No.”

“But?” I knew that tone.

“It’s a ceremonial knife.”

I signed. “And we think you’re needed because…?”

“It has blood on it.”

“Uh huh.” I knew how much Ward loved touching bits of dead people, which is to say not much at all. “And you’re supposed to figure out if it killedsomeone or if somebody was just having fun with a blood ritual or chicken sacrifice?”

“Pretty much.”

This would not be my first weird religious ritual rodeo. Not that it would have been Doc’s either, but at least I was confident in my ability to provide backup. Literally, if necessary, since I had not only a PI’s license, but a concealed carry permit—and a shoulder holster. I’d tried going without it for a couple weeks after I left the force and just spent the whole time feeling naked, so I’d gotten the license.

“Why does she think it was used for human sacrifice?” I asked Ward.

“There were apparently some sort of papers with it.”

“Fucking papers. You sure you want me on this? Doc could come out with you tomorrow. He’s the papers guy.”

“Mason seemed inclined to agree with her about the human sacrifice part,” Ward replied mildly. “And you’re coming with me because if there are sacrificed humans, having a former homicide detective along might come in handy.”

He had a point there. “Okay, that’s valid. Did weaskwhat kind of papers, or are we just operating on the assumption that all papers are evil and therefore lead to murder?”

Ward snorted. “Well,Ididn’t ask what kind of papers, but I assume Mason did.”

He was probably right. If there were magical or historical papers, Doc would have wanted to know every possible thing about them. “Okay. So we’re taking this on faith that this is some sort of ritual knife and that it was used to stab something or somebody and we just have to figure out if it’s a fucking chicken or a human.”

---