Michael Baden - Skeleton justice

Once the coffee was on, Jake popped open his laptop and logged on to his e-mail. The screen beamed at him, showing he had eighty-three new messages. He rubbed his eyes-could that be right? E-mail, a blessing and a curse.

Cutting the green spot off a bagel he found in a bag on the counter, Jake poured his coffee and settled down to tackle his in-box. Yes, he'd be happy to speak at Quantico on the subject of bioterrorism; no, he regretted he would not be able to travel to Latvia to address a conference on investigating civilian explosions. Would he come to Athens in September for a week of in-service training? Damn! That sounded good, but Pederson would never give him the time off. These days, it seemed that keeping Jake's light under a bushel was Pederson's top priority.

Fifteen e-mails answered, twenty, twenty-five. Jake glanced at his watch. It read eight-forty-five. How did it get so late? I better get a move on. Somehow, Pederson was always standing by the receptionist's desk when Jake rolled in at nine-fifteen, but never when he left at midnight. He scanned the list of remaining e-mails. Nothing urgent, except-

What was this from Roger@mycollect.com? Could it be a response from one of those eBay collectibles dealers Manny had contacted about Nixon's mug? He clicked and read the message. The dealer remembered the transaction. Jake stared at the screen. The buyer's name sounded awfully familiar. He trolled through the many dusty file drawers of his memory. Sometimes his brain felt as cluttered as his house.

Jake slammed the laptop shut. He knew that name! But from what part of this sprawling investigation? He'd have to wait until he got to the office and started searching the files. He headed for the door, then stopped and reached for the phone. Manny would know. She had the most amazing memory, able to recall the tiniest details instantly. He claimed it was because of her youth. Her brain filled her cranial cavity with the sulci and gyri of a virginal youngster. Not like his brain, shrunken and flattened.

He dialed, but the call rolled immediately to voice mail. Of course-look at the time. She must be in her deposition now. Even Manny turned off her cell phone during depositions. He left a message and continued on to the office. • • • Manny's head throbbed and her throat, parched and raw, protested every swallow. She opened her eyes a slit but quickly shut them when the room started to roll. She must be hungover. Odd, because she really wasn't much of a drinker.

Had she been celebrating, or drowning her sorrows? She couldn't recall. Something scratched at her wrists. She tried to brush it away but found she couldn't move her arms. That was odd, too.

Nearby, a dog barked-very loudly. How could Mycroft be barking so ferociously? Maybe someone was outside. She should check on that. She certainly should. But she was tired, so tired.

The barking continued.

In a minute, Mycroft. In a minute… Jake's cell phone vibrated in the middle of the weekly staff meeting. He ignored it. A few seconds later, it started again. As Charles Pederson paced across the front of the room, pontificating, Jake discreetly looked down at the phone. The display said LITTLE PAWS.

He frowned. Why would Mycroft's silly doggy day care be calling him? Then he remembered he had given Manny permission to list him as one of three emergency backup numbers. If they were calling him, it must be because they couldn't reach Manny, or Kenneth, or Manny's mother, Rose. Well, Manny and Kenneth were together at the deposition, and Rose was probably out somewhere having fun. She kept her cell phone turned off, using it only for emergencies, which she defined as times when she needed to reach others, not times when they needed to reach her. Jake turned his attention back to the meeting. Little Paws could wait.

Again, the cell phone vibrated. Annoyed, Jake reached down to turn it off. This time the display read KENNETH BOYD.

His heart rate quickened. If Kenneth was calling him, where the hell was Manny? Jake glanced at the clock on the wall. The meeting had been going for half an hour and Pederson showed no sign of wrapping it up.

"And now, I'd like to share this PowerPoint presentation with you," Pederson said. "Lights, please."

The lights went down and Pederson began fiddling with his laptop. Nothing appeared on the screen. Finally, one of the secretaries took pity and got up to help the chief. As they huddled together over the computer, Jake slipped out the rear door of the conference room.

Back in his office, Jake dialed Kenneth. "Where's Manny?" he asked without a greeting.

"That's what I'd like to know. She never showed up for the Greenfield deposition."

Jake could practically see his adrenal gland preparing for fight or flight. "Little Paws also called me. Do you know why?"

"Because when they opened up this morning, they found Mycroft sitting at the door all by himself, dragging his leash behind him."

"Let's get her up," a woman's voice said.

"I don't think she's-"

"I said it's time." A door clicked.

Manny opened her eyes and found herself looking into a very beautiful face: shiny black hair, almond eyes, high cheekbones. Human beings are hardwired to respond positively to beauty, but Manny did not smile. Neither did the other woman.

The room she was in had a very high ceiling, dingy green walls, and no furniture other than the bed she lay on and a small table. None of it meant anything to Manny. She hadn't recovered the ability to reason; she could focus only on her physical needs-to drink, to eat, and to stop the incessant pounding in her head.

"Can I have some water?" Manny's voice came out as a harsh croak, unrecognizable to her own ears.

The woman moved to the table and poured water from a bottle into a plastic cup. Manny watched, her mind grinding slowly into gear. The woman looked vaguely familiar to her, but she didn't know why. Mostly, Manny was interested in the water. She propped herself up on one elbow, took the cup, and drank the water straight down. The fluids primed her brain and she looked around. The room was so dusty and dim, it couldn't possibly be someone's home.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Snippets of memory returned to her. A dirty man. A smell. A fall onto the sidewalk. A slight jingling sound…

Manny sat straight up. "My dog! Where's my dog?" The sound she remembered was the tinkle of Mycroft's tags as he ran. "Where's Mycroft? He was sick. I was taking him to the vet."

The woman observed her coolly but said nothing. Where had Manny seen her before? She was beautiful enough to be an actress or a model, but Manny didn't think she'd seen her on TV or in a magazine. Besides, what would a famous person be doing in a grungy place like this? She took in more details of the room: unfinished wood floor, dirty barred window, exposed pipes. What was she doing here? Manny swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself up. "Look, I have to-"

Her knees buckled and her vision blurred. She plopped back down. "What's the matter with me?" Manny closed her eyes and rubbed her temples until she felt a little better. When she looked up again, a man stood in the doorway.

Manny smiled. A familiar face, a kind face. Then her smile faded. A face that didn't belong here.

"Dr. Costello, what's going on? And where's Mycroft?"

The vet turned his back and looked out the only window, a barred opening facing an air shaft. "My wife, Elena, will explain."

"Surely by now you realize who we are, Ms. Manfreda?"

Manny's hands gripped the rough covers of the bed. A man and a woman working together, a person with some medical expertise, born in the late seventies. "You're the Vampire? The two of you?"

Elena smiled.

"Why are you doing this?" Manny continued. "What do you want from me?"