Jonathan Kellerman - Bones

“What did he do?”

“Looked at her,” said Simone. “You know, that way. With a capital L.” She toyed with her hair. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble… to be truthful, sometimes I felt he looked at me that way. No big deal, he never stepped out of line, and normally I’d never say anything. But… when I found out what happened-you won’t tell him, will you? That I hired Aaron.”

“Of course not,” said Reed. “Guy acted creepy, you had every right.”

She exhaled. “That’s a strong word. I don’t want to make accusations, but Travis has a way of making everything seem… not sneaky, I guess the best word would be… covert? Like a spy?” She frowned, not satisfied with the choice of vocabulary.

“Furtive,” said Milo.

“Perfect! Yes, furtive, like everything’s in code. Like he’s looking over his shoulder all the time and that makes you want to do it, too? I’m a really direct person so… but my dad likes him, and Dad’s brilliant, so who am I to say?”

“What does your father like about Huck?”

“He never said, but you could just tell. Which is why I never made a fuss. Dad has a good feel for people. That’s part of what made him so successful.” She chuckled. “Who do you think bought me this house? My job sure couldn’t pay for it and I’m the first to admit it.”

“What do you do?”

“Work with kids. Nanny, preschool teacher, I’ve done some remedial tutoring. And… I probably shouldn’t admit it but, yes, like everyone else, I wanted to act. But want’s a long way from do. Right now I’m taking some downtime, maybe I’ll transition to something totally different. Anyway, Dad’s not like you’d imagine, for a man in his position. He’s a people person and his instinct is to trust. He always says he’d prefer to trust and end up disappointed rather than live his life as a cynic. ‘A cynic understands the price of everything and the value of nothing.’ That’s his favorite saying.”

Reed said, “Travis Huck hasn’t disappointed him yet.”

“Apparently,” said Simone Vander. “Maybe because Travis doesn’t have a life of his own, is always there to run some errand, whatever. I know that’s helpful for Dad and Nadine, but maybe that’s what bothers me. Maybe Travis is too involved?”

She sat forward, folding like origami. “Being an assistant is more than a job. He lives in that house.” Exhaling. “That’s why I hired Aaron. To find out if there is some reason to be worried. And you guys know what he found. Travis killed someone.”

She hugged herself.

Moe Reed said, “Did Mr. Fox give you the details?”

“I know it was kids pushing and shoving. But still. Someone died and he went to prison. Thinking about it last night, I didn’t sleep very well.”

Brown eyes drifted to Milo. “Aaron said you’d follow through, Lieutenant. That you never let go of a lead.”

We left Simone Vander standing just inside her gate. Milo drove down Benedict Canyon slowly.

Moe Reed said, “She’s someone who knows Huck. Guess this puts more focus on him as a solo psycho, Loo.”

Grunt.

At Lexington Road, Reed tried again. “It won’t be a problem, Loo.”

“What won’t be?”

“Aaron and me.”

“Never assumed it would be.”

“One thing she gave us: Doesn’t sound like the Vanders are running from anything. What are we thinking about those sex parties Selena played at?”

“Good question.”

“So they’re still potential suspects?”

“No reason to eliminate them. Or anyone else.” Milo smiled. “With an alternative lifestyle. Whether or not that’s what got her-and the other women-killed? Who the hell knows?”

I said, “Selena’s missing computer says there are secrets the killer wants to stay hidden.”

Reed said, “Or it’s just the bad guy getting rid of any link between him and Selena. Meaning someone she knew. And she knew Huck. And now we know he had the hots for her. Toss in the baldie Ramos saw and he’s looking better and better.”

“Creepy guy,” said Milo. “But not to the Vanders. Simon’s a sharp-eyed businessman. Trusting according to his daughter, but she never said he was an outright sucker. Why would he give Huck a job that had him living in?”

“The weird-the alternative lifestyle?”

Milo didn’t answer until we’d traveled a mile on Sunset. “All right, we’ll invite Mr. Huck for an interview, keep it mellow, maybe he won’t lawyer up immediately. But not today, give it a few more nights of surveillance. God’s smiling at us, guy’ll finally leave the house, head straight to Century Boulevard, solicit a working girl under your watchful eye, Detective Reed. Royal -flush scenario, he tries something nasty and you nab him heroically. That happens, you get to be at the press conference and I’ll do the paperwork.”

Reed said, “You think he’d be that stupid? With all those bodies turning up, he goes back there?”

“You’re the one been itching to watch him, kiddo.”

Silence.

Milo said, “Yeah, it would be stupid but without stupid criminals, the job would be as cheerful as cancer. And from Huck’s perspective, there really isn’t much heat. We had a two-minute chat with him, haven’t been back, the press conference emphasized no leads. He’s got to feel we know diddly. Which ain’t far from the truth.”

Reed said, “Feeling confident, so he strikes out.”

I said, “The pattern of the murders implies a sequence of confidence-building. Start with women who could be considered throwaway victims and bury them out of sight. No one catches on, kick it up to someone bound to be missed, display her, call it in just to make sure.”

“Mr. Hissy,” said Reed. “And everything goes down at the marsh. What’s that, staying in his geographic comfort zone?”

I said, “The marsh could be part of the thrill.”

“The place turns him on? How?”

“Dr. Hargrove called it hallowed ground. Lust murders are often about control through defilement. What better place to showcase your handiwork? There could’ve also been a practical reason. There’s limited public access to the marsh. If he’d stuck to stashing bodies in the muck, his crimes could’ve stayed undetected for years.”

“Instead he decides to advertise.” Reed gave a low whistle. “Life do get twisted.”

Milo said, “First step toward being an ace detective, kid.”

“What is?”

“Figuring out you’re living in a different world.”

Pigeons had partied atop Reed’s rented Cadillac. He grumbled, “Story of my life,” sounding uncannily like Milo.

His cell phone went off. “Reed… I’m so sorry, ma’am… yes, absolutely, ma’am.” Pulling his pad out, he scrawled, hung up.

“That was Mary Lewis, Sheralyn Dawkins’s mom. She lives in Fall-brook. What’s more important, watching Huck or talking to her?”

“Her,” said Milo. “Bring a scrape kit. At the very least we’ll get a firm I.D. on Sheralyn. I’ll watch Huck.”

“Depending on what she has to say, Loo, I can start out now, do a turnaround, and be back at the Vander house in eight, nine hours.”

“You start out now, you hit the crush, forget it. Get the DNA kit, pack yourself an overnight bag, leave when it’s clearer. Take the coastal route, find yourself a bed in Capistrano, whatever. Eat a nice seafood dinner, watch cable, be ready for Ms. Lewis in the morning.”

“Any suggestions where to stay?”

“Department’s not gonna pay for the Ritz-Carlton, you’ll be lucky to get a mattress and Cheez Whiz from a vending machine. And for God’s sake, fill out the forms-no, forget it, I’ll do it for you.”