Part 4 (2/2)

4.

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON BEFORE THE LAST OF THE BONE WAS packaged and ready for transport. Ryan watched as I carefully extracted and wrapped the skull fragments and placed them in plastic containers. I would a.n.a.lyze the remains at the lab. The rest of the investigation would be his baby. packaged and ready for transport. Ryan watched as I carefully extracted and wrapped the skull fragments and placed them in plastic containers. I would a.n.a.lyze the remains at the lab. The rest of the investigation would be his baby.

Dusk was easing in when I emerged from the bas.e.m.e.nt. To say I was cold would be like saying Lady G.o.diva was underdressed. For the second day in a row I finished the afternoon with no feeling in any digit. I hoped amputation would not be necessary.

LaManche was gone, so I rode to Montreal with Ryan and his partner, Jean Bertrand. I sat in back, s.h.i.+vering and asking for more heat. They sat up front, sweating, now and then removing an article of outerwear.

Their conversation wafted in and out of my consciousness. I was fully drained and just wanted to take a hot bath and crawl into my flannel nightgown. For a month. My mind drifted. I thought about bears. There was an idea. Curl up and sleep until spring.

Images floated in my head. The victim in the bas.e.m.e.nt. A sock dangling over singed and stiffened toes. A nameplate on a tiny casket. A happy-face sticker.

”Brennan.”

”What?”

”Good morning, stars.h.i.+ne. Earth says 'h.e.l.lo.'”

”What?”

”You're home.”

I'd been sound asleep.

”Thanks. Talk to you on Monday.”

I stumbled from the car and up the stairs of my building. A light snow was topping the neighborhood like frosting on a sticky bun. Where did so much snow come from?

The grocery situation had not improved, so I ate soda crackers spread with peanut b.u.t.ter and washed them down with clam chowder. I found an old box of Turtles in the pantry, dark chocolate, my favorite. They were stale and hard, but I was not in a position to be choosy.

The bath was all I'd hoped it would be. Afterward, I decided to light a fire. I was finally warm, but felt very tired and very alone. The chocolate had been some comfort, but I needed more.

I missed my daughter. Katy's school year was divided into quarters, my university was on a semester system, so our spring breaks did not coincide. Even Birdie had stayed south this trip. He hated air travel and voiced that opinion loudly through each flight. Since I'd be in Quebec less than two weeks this time, I'd decided to spare both the cat and the airline.

As I held the match to the starter log I considered fire. h.o.m.o erectus h.o.m.o erectus first tamed it. For almost a million years we'd been using it to hunt, cook, keep warm, and light our way. That had been my last lecture before break. I thought of my students in North Carolina. While I'd been searching for elisabeth Nicolet, they'd been taking their midterm exam. The little blue books would arrive here tomorrow by overnight delivery, while the students split for the beaches. first tamed it. For almost a million years we'd been using it to hunt, cook, keep warm, and light our way. That had been my last lecture before break. I thought of my students in North Carolina. While I'd been searching for elisabeth Nicolet, they'd been taking their midterm exam. The little blue books would arrive here tomorrow by overnight delivery, while the students split for the beaches.

I turned off the lamp and watched the flames lick and twist among the logs. Shadows danced around the room. I could smell pine and hear moisture hiss and pop as it boiled to the surface. That's why fire has such appeal. It involves so many senses.

I synapsed back to childhood Christmases and summer camps. Such a dicey blessing, fire. It could give solace, rekindle gentle memories. But it could also kill. I did not want to think about St-Jovite anymore tonight.

I watched snow gather on the windowsill. My students would be planning their first beach day by now. While I was fighting frostbite, they were preparing for sunburn. I didn't want to think about that, either.

I considered elisabeth Nicolet. She'd been a recluse. ”Femme contemplative,” the plaque had said. But she hadn't done any contemplating for over a century. What if we had the wrong casket? Something else I didn't want to think about. At least for tonight, elisabeth and I had little in common.

I checked the time. Nine-forty. Her soph.o.m.ore year Katy was voted one of the ”Beauties of Virginia.” Though she maintained a grade point average of 3.8 while working on dual degrees in English and psychology, she'd never been a slouch socially. Not a chance she'd be home on a Friday night. Ever the optimist, I brought the phone to the hearth and dialed Charlottesville.

Katy answered on the third ring.

Expecting her voice mail, I stuttered something unintelligible.

”Mom? Is that you?”

”Yes. h.e.l.lo. What are you doing home?”

”I've got a zit on my nose the size of a hamster. I'm too ugly to go out. What are you doing home?”

”There is no way you are ugly. No comment on the zit.” I settled against a cus.h.i.+on and put my feet up on the hearth. ”I've spent two days digging up dead people and I'm too tired to go out.”

”I won't even ask.” I heard cellophane crinkle. ”This zit is pretty gross.”

”It, too, will pa.s.s. How is Cyrano?” Katy had two rats, Templeton and Cyrano de Bergerat.

”He's better. I got some medicine at the pet store and I've been giving it to him with an eyedropper. He's pretty much stopped that sneezing thing.”

”Good. He's always been my favorite.”

”I think Templeton knows that.”

”I'll try to be more discreet. What else is new?”

”Not much. Went out with a guy named Aubrey. He was pretty cool. Sent me roses the next day. And I'm going on a picnic tomorrow with Lynwood. Lynwood Deacon. He's first-year law.”

”Is that how you pick them?”

”What?”

”The names.”

She ignored that. ”Aunt Harry called.”

”Oh?” My sister's name always made me slightly apprehensive, like a bucket of nails balanced too close to an edge.

”She's selling the balloon business or something. She was actually calling to find you. Sounded a little weirded out.”

”Weirded out?” On a normal day my sister sounded a little weirded out.

”I told her you were in Quebec. She'll probably call tomorrow.”

”O.K.” Just what I needed.

”Oh! Dad bought a Mazda RX-7. It is so sweet! He won't let me drive it, though.”

”Yes, I know.” My estranged husband was undergoing a mild midlife crisis.

There was a slight hesitation. ”Actually, we were just going out to grab a pizza.”

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