Kathy Reichs - Bones Are Forever

Where was Tom Unka? Ronnie Scarborough?

What had Scarborough meant when he said Ollie was clueless about Annaliese Ruben? Had Scar been more than her pimp? Did he know things we hadn’t even thought about?

Ryan was right. The locals would focus on the Castain homicide, on the erupting feud over control of the drug trade. But I couldn’t give up my obsession with Ruben. The woman had murdered four babies.

People had described Ruben as not very bright. Scarborough. Forex. Tyne. How had she eluded capture this long? Gotten from Saint-Hyacinthe to Edmonton to Yellowknife? Did she even know the law was in pursuit? Surely she did. But was she more worried about Scar?

Had Scar helped Ruben? Had Nellie Snook? Was Ruben hiding in the house on Ragged Ass? Or had she gone elsewhere? A half sibling of whom we knew nothing? A local officer who was perhaps a cousin or other relative?

Ruben’s father was Farley McLeod. Her mother was Micah Lee. Micah was Dene. Did Ruben’s familial network extend to places closed to outsiders?

And what about Horace Tyne? Tyne had worked with Ruben’s father, was at least thirty years her senior. Had his relationship with Ruben been strictly paternal?

Round and round it went. Images. Speculation. Questions. Mostly questions.

I’d just drifted off when the landline rang. Thinking it was Katy, I snatched up the receiver. My eye caught the digits on the bedside clock. Eleven-fifty-five.

“Is this Temperance Brennan?” Soft. Childlike.

“Yes.”

“I need to see you.” Slight accent. It didn’t sound like Binny.

“Who is this?”

The answer sent my heart rate into the stratosphere.

“I’M IN THE WOODS.”

“What woods?”

“Behind the hotel.”

“OK.”

“Come alone.”

“But I—”

“If someone is with you, I’ll go away.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Five.”

Click.

I shot out of bed. Yanked on the clothes I’d tossed to a chair. Grabbed my jacket. Shoved a flashlight, my room key, and by habit, my cell phone into one pocket. Flew out the door.

Buzzing with adrenaline, I bypassed the elevator, pounded down the stairs, and raced across the lobby. The hotel had to have rear exits; not sure where, I played it safe and slammed out the front door.

The night was cold but not enough for snow. A light rain was slicking the grass underfoot.

As I ran around the building, I considered possibilities. Had Ruben tired of running? Did she want to turn herself in? Or was this a setup to throw me off?

To take me out?

That thought brought me up short.

Was Ruben dangerous? She’d killed her offspring, but could she pose a threat to me? What would that gain her?

I pulled out my iPhone. The thing responded with a bit more enthusiasm but still lacked the juice to allow normal function.

It didn’t matter. I had to get to Ruben.

I stopped again at the garden. Zen and the art of murdering babies. Odd. But that’s what my gray cells sent up.

The moon was a fuzzy sliver, casting soft copies of stacked boulders and dead plants on the wet pebbles below.

I peered into the eerie dusklike dimness ahead. Saw only dark shapes I knew to be pines.

I took out and thumbed on my flash. Partly to light my way. Partly to let Ruben know I was coming.

Barely breathing, I hurried on.

I was almost at the tree line when a solitary figure took shape in the shadows. Indistinct. Smudged by the drizzle.

The figure remained motionless, the face a pale oval pointed my way.

I deliberated tactics. Cajole? Persuade? Coerce?

Come quietly. Let me help you. Or do I call the guys with badges and guns? What’s it going to be, Annaliese?

I continued walking, the light from my flash fizzing in the rain.

Please, God. Don’t let her be packing .

I entered the woods.

As though reading my mind, Ruben raised both arms and stepped into my beam.

She was short and probably classified as obese by medical standards. Her hair was long and dark, her face pretty in a pudgy-toddler sort of way.

Tank sat at her feet.

Ruben’s message was clear. She wasn’t carrying a weapon and meant me no harm.

Two pairs of eyes watched me close in.

Before I could speak, Ruben rotated slowly, arms straight out at her sides. Tank looped at her feet as though showing that he, too, posed no threat.

Ruben came full circle and faced me. Tank went bipedal and placed his forepaws on her knee. She did not reach down to pet him.

“We’ve been looking for you, Annaliese.”

“People told me.”

“We need to talk.”

“You’re scaring my sister.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I want you to stop.”

“I will if you agree to meet with the police.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll say I did bad things.”

“Did you?”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“You can lower your hands.”

She did. Tank jumped into her arms.

“Tell me about your babies.”

“Babies?” Her confusion sounded genuine.

“They’re why we’ve been looking for you.”

Lines creased her forehead. She looked down at the dog. He looked up at her. She scratched his ear. “I figured it was the men.”

“What men?”

“The men who gave me money.”

She thought we wanted to bust her for turning tricks.

“The police want to know what happened to your babies.”

She said nothing.

“Did you kill them?”

The rain had separated the fur on Tank’s head into spiky wet tufts. Ruben began plucking at them with quick nervous gestures.

“Did you hurt the babies?”

Her fingers grew more agitated.

“We found four, Annaliese. Three in Saint-Hyacinthe and one in Edmonton.”

“You found the babies.” Flat.

“Yes.”

“They died.”

“How?”

“They had to.”

“Why?”

“They couldn’t live.”

“Why not?”

“I gave them something bad.”

“Annaliese.” Sharp.

Ruben stopped pulling Tank’s fur and pressed him to her chest.

“Look at me.”

Her head came up slowly, but her eyes stayed down.

“I wrapped them in towels,” she said.

“What do you mean, you gave the babies something bad?”

“Something inside.”

I didn’t follow but let it go. Time for that later. “Do you know who the fathers are?” I asked.

Annaliese kept her gaze pointed at Tank. “Please don’t tell Nellie.”

“You have to explain the babies to the police,” I said.

“I don’t want to.”

“You have no choice.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Yes. I can.”

“I’m not a bad person.”

Standing there in the moonlight and rain, I realized a sad truth: Annaliese Ruben wasn’t a monster. She was simpleminded.

“I know,” I said softly.

I was reaching out when something over her right shoulder caught my eye. The needles on one pine seemed wrong, their edges too light amid the surrounding darkness.

I stepped to my left to see around Annaliese.

A beat, then a flicker, as though a torch had been lighted then quickly extinguished.

“Annaliese,” I whispered. “Did you come alone?”

I would never get an answer to my question.

A muffled crack broke the stillness. I saw a flash.

Annaliese’s mouth opened. A glob flew from her forehead, and a black hole appeared above her right brow.

With a terrified yelp, Tank pushed from his mistress’s chest and darted into the woods.

I hit the ground.