Ted Kosmatka - Prophet of Bones

“What kinds of things?”

“Things I wouldn’t have thought possible.”

“I’ve seen the impossible,” Paul said.

“Ah, Trieste, you mean,” Gavin said.

“Who?” Lilli asked.

“They take him along sometimes, I heard. On manhunts after dark.”

“So it has a name.”

Gavin nodded. “A name. It has that.”

Lilli pushed her plate away. Her meal half-eaten. “It?” she asked. “What do you mean, ‘it’?”

“It’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen there,” Gavin said.

“Then what is?”

Gavin moved his food around but wouldn’t look up from his plate.

“What is Trieste?” Lilli asked.

“I think he knows,” Gavin said, gesturing toward Paul with his fork.

“Let’s say I don’t.” Paul understood Gavin’s reluctance. To say it out loud seemed profane somehow. But Paul wouldn’t make it easier for him.

“What?” Lilli repeated.

“There are strange things on the compound. Some things part human.” Gavin’s face was grim. “Part not.”

Paul nodded. Lilli, for her part, looked at them like they were crazy.

“You can’t be serious.”

“The old man has a thing for hybrids,” Gavin said. “Of all kinds.”

Lilli stared at Paul in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“I’ve seen it,” Paul assured her. He held out his arm, still covered in bruises. “There was a bridge. I barely got away. It could have been a lot worse.”

“He crosses different species?” Lilli said.

“It’s not so hard,” Gavin said. “It happens in captivity all the time. Horses and donkeys, lions and tigers.”

“But why do it?” Lilli said.

Gavin shrugged. “Why does that man do anything? I don’t know. Maybe because there’s no one to tell him not to. Maybe because he’s crazy.”

There was a long silence at the table. “What is it like?” Lillivati asked softly.

“Trieste, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin’s eyes took on a faraway look, but he didn’t answer.

Paul answered for him: “It’s a monster.”

It took two days for the phone to ring.

Two days in the hotel. Gavin lay awake at night, picturing all the ways his plan could go wrong. When he slept, he dreamed of the river. The sound of gunshots. Margaret’s face.

It was a brief, anonymous call. Gavin’s cell rang as they were eating lunch at a fast-food place. “Write this down,” said the man on the line; then he spoke a number. “Call from a pay phone at two-thirty.” The line went dead.

Gavin hung up. He looked at Paul, who was sitting across the table from him. “That was it,” he said.

An hour later they turned into the convenience store’s parking lot and pulled up next to the pay phone. Gavin climbed out. Paul and Lilli waited in the car.

Gavin poured quarters into the metal phone, then punched in the numbers he’d written on a scrap piece of paper.

The phone rang. On the fifth ring, somebody picked it up.

“Hello.”

“I was told to call.”

“So this is Gavin,” the voice said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Then you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Come now, you must have heard something about me or you wouldn’t have tried to reach me.”

“This is Mr. Lacefield?”

“It is.”

“I heard you’re no friend of Martial Johansson’s.”

The man on the line chuckled. “If that’s all you’ve heard, then you’ve heard the most important thing, considering your current situation. I understand that you have some information for me.”

“More than just information.”

There was a long pause on the line. Gavin filled it. “In addition to information, we also have—”

Lacefield interrupted. “Not on the phone. We need to talk in person.”

Another pause.

“Where?” Gavin asked.

“There’s a pier on a lake. A place called Alcove Beach. You can find it on local maps.”

Gavin held the phone to his cheek but didn’t speak.

“It’s wide open there. A public place. We’ll talk.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Two o’clock. Is Paul with you?”

Gavin stiffened. “How do you know about Paul?”

“It’s part of my business to know. As you said, I’m no friend to Martial Johansson. So is Paul with you?”

“Yeah, he’s with me.”

Another long pause.

“Bring him.”

“Okay, I’ll bring him along.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you soon.” The line went dead. Gavin hung up.

Gavin climbed into the car and shut the door.

“Well?” Paul asked.

“He’ll meet with us,” Gavin said.

“You don’t sound happy.” Paul waited for him to explain.

“He knew about you. Somebody already has feelers out.”

“Is that good or bad?” Lilli asked.

“I don’t know. But at least he knows we’re serious. This is risky for him, too. If he didn’t have a lot on the line, he never would have gotten back to us.”

The next day, Paul was up before the sun. He stood at the curtains of the hotel room, looking out at the early morning traffic. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east; red taillights glowed bright in the semidark. He turned away and walked to the bathroom, where he shaved a five-day stubble. Not quite a beard, but well on its way to it. A trait from his father’s side of the family, hairy as Vikings. As a child he’d seen pictures of uncles he’d never met, pale men with full, thick beards. His own father had shaved nearly every day of his life. Now, holding the razor in his hand, Paul had the impulse to shave his head, too, some instinct rising up inside him. In the end, he didn’t, but only because he’d have to explain to Lilli why he’d done it, and he wouldn’t have an answer. He’d read once that gladiators had often cut their hair in preparation for battle. It was also a sign of mourning.

A Bible verse rose unbidden: And Job arose, tore at his clothes, shaved his head, and worshipped.

He put the razor by the sink.

His morning routine woke Lilli, who joined him in the steaming shower. Water rained down on her, plastering her spiky black hair to her head. She closed her eyes and moved against him.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” He wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s not your fault. You gave me a choice, remember? I chose.”

“You didn’t choose this.”

“And neither did you. You didn’t know all this was going to happen.”

“It’s still my fault. If I hadn’t contacted you…”

“I’d still be at my job. So what? I don’t blame you.”

“I blame me.”

“Well, stop,” she said. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Water cascaded over them, but not between.

After, they dressed and met Gavin in the lobby. They found him sipping a hot cup of coffee and reading the newspaper in a plush green chair of the sort that seemed built exclusively for use in hotel lobbies.

Gavin glanced at his watch when he saw them. “You ready?”

Paul nodded.

They walked out to the car and drove to Alcove Beach in silence. No one spoke, save Paul calling out the directions he’d printed from the hotel computer the night before. “Turn here,” he said as they approached their destination.

They paid four dollars at the booth, then followed a narrow roadway that led up to an immense parking lot. Gavin drove to the very front, where beach sand had begun to drift up onto the pavement. He put the car in park and they climbed out. The sun beat down on them. “You stay here,” Gavin said.

“I’m coming,” Lilli said.

“No.” Gavin’s voice was firm.