Part 35 (1/2)
I shook my head.
”Looks like they broke the gla.s.s with the cinder blocks, then chucked that thing in.” He walked over to the smoldering mound. ”They must've soaked it in gasoline, lit it, and pitched it.”
I heard his words but couldn't speak. My body had locked up as my mind tried to rouse some shapeless notion sleeping in the core of my brain.
The firefighter slipped a shovel from his belt, snapped open the blade, and poked at the heap on my kitchen floor. Black flecks shot upward, then rejoined the rubble below. He slid the blade below the object, flipped it over, and leaned in.
”Looks like a burlap sack. Maybe a seed bag. d.a.m.ned if I can tell what's inside.”
He sc.r.a.ped the object with the tip of the shovel and more charred particles spiraled up. He prodded harder, rolling the thing from side to side.
The smell grew stronger. St-Jovite. Autopsy room three. Memory broke through and I went cold all over.
With trembling hands I opened a drawer and withdrew a pair of kitchen scissors. No longer concerned about my nightie, I squatted and cut the burlap.
The corpse was small, its back arched, its legs contracted by the heat of the flames. I saw a shriveled eye, a tiny jaw with blackened teeth. Antic.i.p.ation of the horror that the sack held made me begin to feel faint.
No! Please no!
I leaned in, my mind recoiling from the smell of burned flesh and hair. Between the hind legs I saw a curled and blackened tail, its vertebrae protruding like thorns on a stem.
Tears slid down my cheeks as I cut further. Near the knot I saw hairs, scorched now, but white in spots.
The half-full bowls.
”Nooooooooooooooooo!”
I heard the voice, but did not connect it to myself.
”No! No! No! Birdie. Please G.o.d, no!”
I felt hands on my shoulders, then on my hands, taking the scissors, gently pulling me to my feet. Voices.
Then I was in the parlor, a quilt around me. I was crying, shaking, my body in pain.
I don't know how long I'd been sobbing when I looked up to see my neighbor. She pointed at a cup of tea.
”What is it?” My chest heaved in and out.
”Peppermint.”
”Thanks.” I drank the tepid liquid. ”What time is it?”
”A little past two.” She wore slippers and a trench coat that didn't cover her flannel gown. Though we'd waved to each other across the lawn, or exchanged h.e.l.los on the walk, I hardly knew her.
”I'm so sorry you had to get up in the middle of the nigh-”
”Please, Dr. Brennan. We're neighbors. I know you'd do the same for me.”
I took another sip. My hands were icy, but trembled less.
”Are the firemen still here?”
”They left. They said you can fill out a report when you feel better.”
”Did they take-” My voice broke and I felt tears behind my eyes.
”Yes. Can I get you anything else?”
”No, thank you. I'll be fine. You've been very kind.”
”I'm sorry about your damage. We put a board across the window. It's not elegant, but it will keep the wind out.”
”Thank you so much. I-”
”Please. Just get some sleep. Perhaps this won't seem so bad in the morning.”
I thought of Birdie and dreaded the morning. In desperate hope I picked up the phone and dialed Pete's number. No answer.
”You will be O.K.? Shall I help you upstairs?”
”No. Thank you. I'll manage.”
When she'd gone I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep with great, heaving sobs.
I awoke with the feeling that something was wrong. Changed. Lost. Then full consciousness, and with it, memory.
It was a warm spring morning. Through the window I could see blue sky and sunlight and smell the perfume of flowers. But the beauty of the day could not lift my depression.
When I called the fire department I was told the physical evidence had been sent to the crime lab. Feeling leaden, I went through the morning motions. I dressed, applied makeup, brushed my hair, and headed downtown.
The sack contained nothing but the cat. No collar. No tags. A hand-lettered note was found inside one of the cinder blocks. I read it through the plastic evidence bag.
Next time it won't be a cat.
”Now what?” I asked Ron Gillman, director of the crime lab. He was a tall, good-looking man with silver-gray hair and an unfortunate gap between his front teeth.