Tess Gerritsen - The Bone Garden - A Novel

It was the rattle of a man clearing his throat.

Slowly, she approached the corner and peered around the building, into Fishery Alley. At first, all she saw were shadows and the dim glow of candlelight through a window. Then a man's silhouette emerged from the shelter of a doorway. He paced the alley, clapping his shoulders to stay warm. Clearing his throat again, he spat on the stones, then returned to the doorway and vanished back into shadow.

Silently she backed away from the corner. Perhaps the man's had too much to drink, she thought. Perhaps he'll soon be on his way home.

Or perhaps he's watching for me.

She waited, her heart thumping, as the minutes went by, as the wind flapped at her skirt. Again she heard him cough and spit, then there was a pounding on a door, and she heard Porteous's voice: — I told you, she's not likely to come back tonight. —

— When she does, you send me word. No delay. —

— I told you I would. —

— You'll get your fee then. Only then. —

— I'd better, — said Porteous, and the door slammed shut.

Rose quickly ducked between buildings and watched from the shadows as the man emerged from Fishery Alley and walked right past her. She could not make out his face, but she could see his hulking silhouette and heard him wheeze in the cold. She waited long enough for him to be well away; only then did she emerge from her hiding place.

I do not have even a pitiful pile of straw to return to.

She stood shivering in the road, staring in desolation at the darkness into which the man had just vanished. She turned and walked in the opposite direction.

The present

THE JOURNEY WAS familiar to Julia now, the same road north, the same ferry ride, even the same dense fog hiding her view of the crossing to Islesboro. This time, though, she was prepared for the damp weather, and was dressed in a sweater and jeans as she dragged her small roll-aboard suitcase up the dirt driveway to Stonehurst. When the weathered house suddenly loomed into view through the mist, she had the strange impression that it was welcoming her home, a surprising thing to feel considering her last visit with the irascible Henry. But there had been warm moments between them, too. A moment when, tipsy on wine, she'd looked across at his scowl, his weathered face, and thought: As cranky as Henry can be, there's an integrity to this man, an honesty that runs so deep, I know I can believe every word that comes out of his mouth.

She hauled her suitcase up the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. This time, she resolved to be patient and wait until he appeared. After a few moments, when he did not answer, she tried the front door and found it unlocked. Poking her head inside, she called out: — Henry? — She brought her suitcase into the house and yelled up the stairs: — Henry, I'm here! —

She heard no answer.

She walked into the library, where the sea windows admitted the gloomy light of another fog-bound afternoon. She saw papers scattered across the table, and her first thought was: Henry, you've really made a mess of things now . Then she spotted the cane lying on the floor, and the two skinny legs that poked out from behind the stack of boxes.

— Henry! —

He was lying on his side, his trousers soaked in urine. Frantic, she rolled him onto his back and bent close, to see if he was breathing.

He opened his eyes. And whispered: — I knew you'd come. —

— I think he may have had an arrhythmia, — said Dr. Jarvis. — I find no signs of a stroke or heart attack, and his EKG looks normal at the moment. —

— At the moment? — asked Julia.

— That's the problem with arrhythmias. They can come and go without warning. Which is why I want to keep him on a monitored unit for the next twenty-four hours, so we can watch what his heart does. — Jarvis looked across the room at the closed curtain, which hid their view of Henry's hospital bed, and he dropped his voice. — But we're going to have a hard time convincing him to stay that long. That's where you come in, Ms. Hamill. —

— Me? I'm just his houseguest. You need to talk to his family. —

— I've already called them. His grandnephew's driving up from Massachusetts, but he won't get here till midnight at the earliest. Until then, maybe you can talk Henry into staying in that bed. —

— Where else is he going to go? The ferry's stopped running. —

— Ha, you think that'd stop Henry? He'd just call some friend with a boat to bring him home. —

— You sound like you know him pretty well. —

— The whole medical staff knows Henry Page. I'm the only doctor he hasn't fired yet. — Jarvis sighed and closed the hospital chart. — And I may be about to lose that exclusive status. —

Julia watched Dr. Jarvis walk away and thought: When did I sign up for this ? But this was the burden she'd taken on when she'd found Henry lying on his library floor. She was the one who'd called the ambulance, who'd accompanied him during the ferry ride to the mainland. For the past four hours, she'd sat in Penobscot Bay Medical Center, waiting for the doctors and nurses to finish their evaluation. Now it was nine PM, she was starving, and she had no place to sleep except the waiting room couch.

Through the closed curtain came Henry's complaining voice: — Dr. Jarvis told you I didn't have a heart attack. So why am I still here? —

— Mr. Page, don't you dare disconnect that monitor. —

— Where is she? Where's my young lady? —

— She's probably left by now. —

Julia took a deep breath and crossed to his bed. — I'm still here, Henry, — she said, and stepped through the curtain.

— Take me home now, Julia. —

— You know I can't. —

— Why not? What's to stop you? —

— The ferry, for one thing. It stopped running at five. —

— Call my friend Bart in Lincolnville. He has a boat with radar. He can get us across in the fog. —

— No, I'm not going to. I refuse. —

— You refuse ? —

— Yes. And you can't make me. —

He stared at her for a moment. — Well, — he huffed, — someone's grown a spine. —

— Your grandnephew's on his way. He'll be here later tonight. —

— Maybe he'll do what I want. —

— If he gives a damn about you, he'll say no. —

— And what's your reason for saying no? —

She looked him straight in the eye. — Because a corpse can't help me go through those boxes, — she said and turned to leave.

— Julia? —

She sighed. — Yes, Henry? —

— You'll like my grandnephew. —

Through the closed curtain, Julia heard a doctor and nurse conferring, and she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had dozed off in the chair by Henry's bed, and the paperback novel she'd been reading had fallen on the floor. She picked up the book and glanced at Henry. He, at least, was sleeping comfortably.

— This is his most recent EKG? — a man asked.

— Yes. Dr. Jarvis said they've all been normal. —

— You've seen no arrhythmias on the monitor? —

— Not so far. —

The sound of shuffling paper. — His blood work looks good. Oops, I take that back. His liver enzymes are up a little. He must be into that wine cellar again. —

— Do you need anything else, Dr. Page? —

— Other than a double shot of scotch? —

The nurse laughed. — At least I get to go off duty now. Good luck with him. You'll need it. —

The curtain parted and Dr. Page stepped in. Julia stood to greet him, and her gaze fixed on a startlingly familiar face. — Tom, — she murmured.