Brian Freeman - The Bone House

'Hello, Detective.'

Cab looked over his shoulder in surprise and saw someone who did live here. Someone who claimed to thrive on the isolation that he wanted to escape.

'Mrs Bradley,' he said. He checked his watch. 'Shouldn't you be back home by now?'

'I missed the last ferry,' she told him. 'I have a friend with a rental cottage near here. She lets me stay there.'

'How did you find me?'

'I saw you driving through town. Your Corvette is hard to miss. Everyone already knows who you are.'

'So it seems.'

'Welcome to life in a small town.'

'I heard about your accident on the island,' Cab told her.

'It wasn't an accident.'

'I understand. I'm glad to see you're OK.'

'I hurt like hell. I'm staying in bed tomorrow.'

'Good for you. Are you hungry? Would you like half of a vegetarian sandwich?'

'Do I look like I eat girly food?' Hilary asked. 'You should come back when Stillwater's opens for the season and get yourself the world's best cheeseburger.'

'I'll take your word for it.'

Hilary Bradley sat down next to him on top of the bench. She stared at the horizon, where the blue sky deepened into night. She took off her glasses and brushed a wisp of her blond hair from her eyes, a simple gesture that Cab found oddly erotic. He was uncomfortably aware that he found this woman attractive. He knew what Mark Bradley saw in her. Strength. Determination. Depth.

Even so, her face was troubled. Something was bothering her.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

She gave him a look that said: Why do you care?

'I'm fine,' she replied. 'Why do you ask?' 'I assume I would be about the last person on earth you'd want to talk to,' he said.

'Sometimes when you live out here, you just find yourself wanting to talk to someone, no matter who it is.'

'You have a gift for flattery.'

She realized what she'd said. 'Sorry.'

'Don't worry about it.'

Hilary looked as if she was grasping for something innocuous to say. He suspected that was because she didn't want to say whatever was really in her head. 'What do you use in your hair?' she asked.

He was amused, it's a molding gel. My mother sends it to me from London.'

'I like it.'

'Thank you.'

'You're not exactly a typical cop, are you?'

'Not exactly,' Cab acknowledged.

'Speaking of your mother,' Hilary said, 'I didn't realize at first who she was. It took me a while to put together the name. I don't think I've ever seen any of her movies. I go for chick flicks.'

Cab cocked an eyebrow. 'You?'

'No,' Hilary said, smiling. 'I already told you, I'm not the girly type.'

He was almost willing to believe she was flirting with him.

'It's an artificial life, isn't it?' she asked. 'Hollywood, I mean.'

'Very.'

'Is that why you're not in it?'

'Yes.'

'You don't like to talk about yourself, do you?'

'No.'

She nodded. 'Me neither. I apologize for that crack I made on the island. About a woman messing with you. It's none of my business.'

He wondered if she expected him to open up and admit the truth. You were right , he would say. Let me tell you about Vivian Frost. Instead, he didn't say anything at all. He felt it again, the old instinct to shut himself off from women. He wondered, as he had with Lala, if it was worth trying to get past it. If circumstances were different, Hilary Bradley was the kind of woman he would have enjoyed getting to know. But circumstances weren't different. Not for her. Not for him.

'Do you mind if I make a cop-like observation?' he asked her.

'Go ahead.'

'You don't strike me as a woman who misses a ferry.'

She looked uncomfortable. 'It happens all the time.'

'If you say so.'

He gave her a minute of silence. He knew she was tempted to get up and leave. Whatever was bothering her, it made her feel vulnerable, and she was obviously a woman who didn't enjoy that feeling.

'I didn't miss the ferry,' she admitted. 'I decided not to go home tonight.'

'I see.'

Her face was haunted, which only made it prettier. He disliked women who wanted you to take care of them, and that wasn't Hilary Bradley at all. She looked as if she could barely get the words out to admit what was in her head.

'Be honest with me,' she said. 'Do you really have a witness who saw Mark kissing Glory Fischer on the beach?'

Cab understood. The foundation on which she'd built her life suddenly felt weak. Normally, he wouldn't have said a thing about the evidence in the case, but he found himself unable to say nothing. He hedged his words.

'I haven't talked to the witness myself,' he said. 'I'm going to do that tomorrow. I can't tell you exactly what he saw or didn't see.'

'It was dark on the beach. It could still be a case of misidentification.'

'I can't say yes or no.'

'Things aren't always what they seem,' she said forcefully, and he thought she was talking to herself as much as she was talking to him.

'I realize that. For what it's worth, Mrs Bradley, I hope your husband is innocent. I'd like to think there are a few strong relationships left in this world.'

'I thought you only believed in betrayal, Detective.' Her voice was cold again.

'I do, but I'd like to be wrong now and then.'

Hilary got off the bench and squared her shoulders. 'You're wrong now.'

'Maybe so.'

'Here's what I believe,' Hilary told him. 'Your witness didn't see what he thinks he saw. Either it wasn't Mark, or he misinterpreted what was happening between them.'

'Forgive me, Mrs Bradley, but if you really believe that, why did you miss your ferry?'

'Fuck you,' she snapped, surprising him with her venom. She spun on her heel, then stopped in the middle of the clearing. 'I'm sorry. Mark would never kill anyone. That's not the kind of man he is.'

'He may not be, but that doesn't mean anything.'

'Would you kill an innocent girl?' she asked. 'Could you ever do something like that?'

I already did.

'An innocent girl? Of course not.'

'Then why do you think Mark could?'

She didn't wait for an answer, and he wasn't going to give her one. She retreated to her car and drove away toward downtown Fish Creek with an angry roar of her motor. He was alone again with the encroaching night and the violent water of Green Bay below him. He didn't like it, no matter how beautiful it was. It felt deadly. Catch-a- Cab Bolton was ready to be anywhere else but here.

Gary Jensen lived at a hilltop intersection where five roads came together at the end of the developed area of the city. Across from his corner house, the land gave way to grass fields and farmland. Amy pulled into Gary's driveway after dark under the thick cover of giant oaks and sugar maples crowding the house. She switched off the engine. The radio, which had been playing a moody song by Adele called 'Hometown Glory', went silent on the final notes.

She sat in her car and texted Katie. I'm here.

Amy got out of the car. Lights glowed on both stories of the brick house, but the curtains were tightly drawn. Tree branches dangled close enough to scrape the glass on most of the windows. She hiked along the grassy shoulder to the front of the house. A street light threw her shadow down the hill behind her on the road that led to the distant bay. Ahead of her, no more than half a mile away, she heard the whine of car motors on Highway 57, speeding to and from downtown Green Bay. She saw a patch of trees diagonally across from the house, marking Wequiock Falls County Park. She'd hiked there to see the waterfall in each of the seasons, not knowing that Gary lived within shouting distance of the trail.

Her phone jangled with music. Katie had texted back. Don't do anything stupid.