Kathy Reichs - Virals

The boys and I lined up by the back wall. To an observer it would have been unclear whether we’d reported a crime or been accused of one.

As concisely as possible, Kit explained our adventure of the last few days and the bones we’d discovered.

Sergeant Corcoran glanced at his half-eaten Egg McMuffin, sighed, and shook his head.

“Mr. Howard,” he drawled. “That’s one incredible tale.”

“ Doctor Howard,” I blurted. “And it’s not a tale . It’s the truth.”

Kit hand-shushed me. “Sergeant, we didn’t come to waste your time. These kids found something, and someone fired a weapon at them.”

“So they claim.” Corcoran settled his considerable derriere into his too-small chair. “ Doctor Howard.”

Okay. My input hadn’t moved this along.

“Children are often mistaken.” Corcoran said. “We get crazy calls like this all the time. They never pan out.”

“All four tell the same story,” Kit said. “Question them if you like.”

Corcoran gave a half smirk. “Don’t take this personally, but I’ve found academics and their kids to be particularly unreliable. Prone to exaggeration, shall we say.”

“No, we shall not.” Kit’s tone was glacial.

Corcoran ignored him. “While this office is technically responsible for policing Morris Island, we don’t have the funding or the personnel for goose chases on Loggerhead. That’s Charleston University property. Campus security should deal with the situation.”

Kit opened his mouth, closed it. Changed tack. “I’m reporting a possible murder. Are you refusing to investigate?

“Don’t twist my meaning, Dr. Howard.” For the first time I noted hesitation in Corcoran’s manner. “Covering Morris strains departmental resources enough. It drains my time and manpower. Policing Loggerhead is out of the question.”

“Strains your department!?” Ruth’s voice cut the air like a cleaver. “Your people never set foot in our neighborhood! Our own community watch is the only protection we have!”

Shooting to her feet, Ruth grasped the edge of Corcoran’s desk. The sergeant flinched, regretted it, squared his shoulders.

“My bubby says a man shot at him.” Ruth’s voice was shrill. “You will move your tuchus and investigate , or, so help me, I’ll be down at the mayor’s office faster than you can say Deputy Dawg.”

We were cruising on a police boat ten minutes later.

CHAPTER 28

The rest of the morning was a disaster.

The ride from Folly took thirty minutes. Sergeant Corcoran stayed inside the pilot’s cabin, avoiding Ruth. We Morris Islanders crowded together on the bow.

Slowly, Loggerhead materialized before us. And with it, a serious problem.

“Oh boy,” Kit groaned.

Marcus Karsten was pacing the dock. Spotting the police boat he stopped, laced his fingers on his chest, and waited. A bird of prey, preparing to strike.

And Karsten had company. Linus Stolowitski, Nelson Devers, and Tom Blue. It was obvious the fathers had already informed the agitated professor. The trio stood in silence at a safe distance.

“What is this nonsense?” Karsten demanded, before we’d even tied down. “These children ”—he spat the word—“claim there are dead bodies on my island? Ridiculous!”

Kit’s face hardened. My heart went out to him. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. But I knew he’d soon be vindicated.

“Dr. Karsten,” Kit answered, soft but firm. “The kids insist they found a human skeleton in the woods. If so, a crime may be involved. They also report that someone chased them firing weapons. We had no choice but to inform the police.”

Karsten’s face grew so red I thought he might explode.

Again, I jumped in unbidden. Dumb, but that’s what I do.

“Just let us show you the damn grave!”

“Tory!” Kit’s eyes whipped to me, then back to his boss.

Karsten pointed both index fingers in my direction, preparing to rip me a new one. Then he paused, seemed to reconsider.

“Very well.” His tone was ice. “Lead on, Miss Brennan. But you’d better be right. For your sake.”

We headed back to the dig site. Third time’s a charm.

My gang led, followed by Karsten and a heavily sweating Sergeant Corcoran. The gaggle of unhappy parents brought up the rear.

Soon Ben spotted the field.

That’s when things bottomed out.

As per our plan, while the group congregated at the grave, I slipped to my duffel. Inside, my tools lay haphazardly, still covered with soil. A quick rummage failed to turn up the dog tags.

“Oh my God!” wailed Ruth Stolowitski. “There are bones down there!”

Linus offered an arm to his wife.

In grim silence, the others peered into the hole. We hadn’t tarped the site, and gusts of wind had covered the remains with a thin layer of dirt.

“Human? No BS?” Corcoran’s entire demeanor had changed.

Told you so , I thought. Then felt bad. What was the point of smug satisfaction?

I refocused. Where the flip were those tags? I was sure I’d put them in the bag, which sat exactly as I’d left it.

“All right.” Karsten’s nose and eyes were pinched, as though he were conducting an unpleasant experiment. “Dr. Howard, please enter the excavation and verify the find.”

Kit hopped into the grave, careful to avoid stepping on the remains. As he landed I shot a quick headshake at the boys. Questioning looks flew back. I shrugged. How should I know? The tags were just gone.

Seconds passed before Kit passed verdict.

“Uh, kids, I think you’ve made a mistake.” He looked . . . was that . . . embarrassed ?

“A mistake?” Impossible . I bit back the last word.

“I’m sure it was too dark to see clearly.” Kit avoided my eyes. “It’s easy to get confused.”

“Confused? What? The skeleton is right there!”

Kit sighed. “Honey, these are primate bones.”

I rushed to the pit. The others followed.

If eyes really can bug, ours did it.

The human skeleton was gone. In its place lay a jumble of old monkey bones. Anyone could see the stuff wasn’t human.

“What the hell?” squeaked Shelton.

“That’s not what we found!” I cried. “We dug up a young female with a bullet hole in her skull. I’ve never seen these bones before!”

Hi and Ben nodded like bobbleheads, equally astonished.

“Dear lord!” Sergeant Corcoran shot me a wicked look. “Monkey bones on a monkey island. Imagine that.” He wagged his head in disgust. “Kid scientists.”

Karsten snorted. Like Corcoran, he seemed to be enjoying our disgrace.

Hi’s mother was uncharacteristically speechless. Shelton’s parents looked relieved. Tom Blue just shook his head. Our credibility had dropped through the floorboards.

Someone switched the bones!

“The gunmen!” I sputtered. “They snatched the skeleton and planted animal bones in its place!”

“Gunmen?” Corcoran scoffed. “You’re sticking to that crazy terrorist fantasy?”

“Tory,” Kit said, “it was pitch black, right? Maybe you got overexcited after reading about that missing girl, and—”

“Bullets!” I gestured at the trees. “The shooter hit a branch. The slugs will still be there.”

I sprinted for the tree line. The boys followed. The adults didn’t.

Frantically we scanned the canopy.

No damage. No bullets. In the background I could her Kit trying to placate Karsten and Corcoran.

“Tory, look! Eleven o’clock.” Shelton pointed. “See, near the trunk? Someone sawed off a branch and covered the spot with sap.”