Brian Freeman - The Bone House

Curious, Cab reached into Hoffman's pocket again and dug to the bottom. This time he found something metal. He pulled it out and cupped it in his hand.

It was a key.

Hilary saw Mark's face as he drove off the ferry and knew that something had gone terribly wrong. He drove by her, oblivious to everything around him. His face was pale. His eyes were blank and distracted. She hit the horn to get his attention, and he pulled off the road when he spotted the Taurus. He got out and walked toward her. He climbed into the passenger seat, but when she hugged him, he sat motionless, not responding.

'What is it?' she asked. 'What's wrong?'

'Peter Hoffman's dead,' Mark told her.

'Oh, my God, what happened?'

'I don't know, but I know who they're going to blame for it.'

Hilary stared at the ferry port. They were behind schedule, and she knew they'd be rushing to get the half-dozen cars on board. 'Back up, back up,' she told him. 'What the hell's going on?'

Mark ran his hands through his hair. 'Hoffman confronted me at the market. He was spouting off about how I'd killed Glory. It got physical. He hit me. Cracked me right in the jaw.'

Hilary closed her eyes. 'What did you do?'

'I pushed him, and he fell. Everybody saw it happen.'

'You mean he died? Right there?'

'No, no, no, no, but everyone knows there was a fight.'

'Mark, you're not making any sense. What happened to your phone?'

'I dropped it at the store when Hoffman hit me. When I realized it was gone, I called my number, and Hoffman told me he had it. So when the ferry was delayed, I drove to his house. I wanted to apologize, get my phone back, and get the hell out of there. But he was dead. Someone blew his head off. It was so recent that I could still smell it. It must have happened in the fifteen minutes or so between when we talked and I drove over there.'

'What did you do?'

'I left. I ran.' He added, 'I didn't kill him, Hil. It wasn't me.'

Hilary cupped her hands in front of her mouth. Her mind raced. 'They already found your phone,' she murmured.

'What?'

'I called you. I forgot about your message. Cab Bolton answered. He must have been at Hoffman's house, which means he found the body and your phone.'

Mark shook his head. 'They're going to crucify me.'

Hilary wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she wasn't going to fool either of them with false hope. He was the obvious suspect. The accusations, the fight, the phone calls, all of it played against him, and all of it could be proved by witnesses and records. She felt a sense of uneasiness herself, however much she tried to pretend she was immune. Hesitation. Doubt. Every time she quelled it, something happened that pushed her deeper into shadow.

He saw it in her face. 'Even you're wondering if I'm a murderer.'

'I'm not.'

'You're thinking, he's got a temper. Hoffman pushed him too far, and he lost it and killed him.'

'Don't talk that way, Mark.' She didn't want him to know what was in her head. He did have a temper. He had been pushed too far. None of that mattered now.

Mark reached out and covered her hand. 'I'm not lying. I didn't do this. Any of this. Not Glory. Not Hoffman.' He stared at her and added, 'Not Tresa, either.'

'Tell me exactly what you did at Hoffman's house.'

'I wasn't there for more than a minute or two. I drove to his house from the port. I walked up the driveway, and I saw that the front door was open. I called Hoffman's name, but he didn't answer. I went inside and found him in the hallway on the floor.'

'What did you do next?'

'I got the hell out of there. I slammed the door behind me, and I ran to the car and went back to the ferry port.'

Hilary glanced at Mark's hands. He was wearing leather gloves. 'Did you have the gloves on when you went inside the house?'

'Sure.'

'So you didn't leave fingerprints?'

'I guess not.'

'What about footprints?'

Mark nodded. 'I left plenty.'

'Get rid of your shoes,' she told him.

'What?'

'Drive to a deserted beach before you go home. Throw them into the lake as far as you can. Make sure no one sees you.'

'That's crazy. I'm not going to do that.'

'Mark, we can't let them prove you were there. The footprints are the only things to put you at his house. Get your clothes in the washer; too. You may have tracked blood from the scene.'

'Hil, forget it. I borrowed a phone at the pier. I called my number, and I pulled out of the ferry line. You don't think people will remember that? If I try to cover it up, it will only make me look guilty.'

He was right, but Hilary didn't want to hear it. Her voice rose as she felt anger and despair carrying her away. 'You can't give them rope to hang around your neck. They're not going to care about the truth. All they want is to put you in prison. They want to take you away from me, and I am not going to let that happen.'

Mark reached out and embraced her. She felt as if they were holding on with nothing but their fingertips, slipping out of each other's grasp. To make it worse, she was about to leave him alone for the night.

'Call Gale,' she told him, 'but don't mention the shoes. A lawyer can't advise you to destroy evidence. I still think you should get rid of them.'

'That's like admitting I killed him.'

'Why are you fighting me on this?'

'Because this time, I think you're wrong, and if I do it, there's no going back.'

'How long were you gone from the ferry line when you drove to Hoffman's house?' she asked.

Mark shrugged. 'Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.'

'That's not much time.' 'They'll say it's plenty of time to get to his house, argue, struggle, and kill him.'

'For God's sake, Mark, whose side are you on?'

'Ours,' he said, 'but I'm not going to pretend. I'm in trouble. Lying and hiding won't get me out of it.'

Hilary saw the crew at the ferry dock waving to her. The other cars had already pulled ahead of her and boarded. She checked her watch; it was two minutes before four o'clock. The boat was leaving.

'I have to go,' she told him.

'What? Why? Where are you going?'

'Amy Leigh is missing. I got a call from her roommate at Green Bay. She hasn't seen Amy since last night, and Amy's not answering her phone. I'm going to Green Bay. We're going to talk to the police.'

Mark blew out his breath in disappointment. 'Of all nights, Hil. I really need you with me.'

'If something happens to Amy, and I didn't do anything to stop it, I'd never forgive myself. She called me. She reached out to me. I've got to do this.'

'Let me come with you.'

'Not in those shoes. Not in those clothes. Go home and call Archie Gale.'

'Hil, let it go. I'm coming.'

She shook her head. 'Look at yourself, Mark. You're not in any shape to do this now. Plus, if you're there, the police will make this about you, not Amy.'

He opened the car door. Wind rushed in. 'OK. Go.'

'This might be our one chance to find out what really happened to Glory,' she told him. 'To prove it wasn't you. This coach that Amy talked about, Gary Jensen, I called a friend of mine at the school where he used to work. He was suspected of having sexual relationships with teenage girls.'

Mark climbed out of the car and leaned back in through the door with a sad smile. 'So was I.'

'Damn it, Mark, don't talk like that.'

'I'm sorry, I can't help it.' He pulled her face closer and kissed her. His lips were cool. 'I love you. Don't forget that.'

'I love you, too.'

He shut the door and walked away. After an instant of doubt, she put the Taurus in gear and drove on to the ferry. With the car parked, she got out and climbed the steps to the passenger deck. She stayed outside, hanging on to the railing as the boat eased away from the island. Beyond the shelter of the harbor, the wind on the open water intensified, and the ferry swayed under her feet. Back on the shore, in the parking lot, she could still see Mark's truck. She waved, and she saw the lights of the Explorer flash on and off. He was inside, watching her go.