Bones 20 - A Conspiracy of Bones by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs [Reichs, Kathy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

21

MONDAY, JULY 9

I woke to Bob Marley urging me to chill. My eyes flew to the clock.

9:48. Impossible.

’Cause every little thing gonna be all right …

I grabbed my mobile. Slidell was already talking when it hit my ear.

“—bench slug says it ain’t enough, I should—”

“A judge refused to issue a warrant?” Overenunciating to sound fully awake.

“According to her thinking, which is on par with my cousin Blanton’s senile gerbil, undocumented photos, a bone of dubious origin, and a hearsay tale don’t constitute probable cause.”

“Damn.”

“She suggested, not so politely, I come back with more.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

“We? I don’t recall you standing there getting your head handed—”

I told him about the washcloth, DeepHaven, the GPS coordinates buried in Timmer’s ad.

“I’m sure you looked them up.”

“Not yet.” I didn’t mention my ouster from DeepUnder and the subsequent paranoia that my Mac was now spying on me. “But I’m conversant enough to know the location is just south of Charlotte.”

“You think it’s some kinda real estate office?”

“If so, Timmer’s not putting it out high-profile.”

“You say this yak’s hawking old missile sites. Maybe a buyer’s gotta be vetted to get the inside skinny.”

That made sense.

“What’s up with Kimrey?” I asked.

“In the wind. I’ll get him.”

“Find anything more on Vodyanov?”

“Nada. It’s like the skank never existed. I checked records for the unit in Ramos’s building. You’re right. The tenant in number six had no cable, no phone, no internet. Swung by for a chat with the landlady. There’s a piece of work. Ramos claims she hardly ever saw the guy. Got the same story from a neighbor.” Pages flipped. “Hugo Garcia. Looks like Vodyanov used the place as a drop, maybe a safe house.”

“Drop for what? Safe from what?”

“Who the hell knows?”

“Why swab the apartment with antiseptic?”

“Same answer.”

I changed gears. “What about Cootie Clanahan’s Mustang lead?”

“Got someone helping me dig through DMV records—licenses, registrations, citations, the usual. The CCU ain’t overstaffed, so it’s probably gonna take the rest of our lives.” I could hear the frustration in his voice.

“How about the holding company that owns the property?”

“Working on that, too.”

Thirty minutes later, Marley sang again.

I recognized the number. I’d worked at that end of the line for decades.

“Good morning.” Uber-cheerful.

“This is not a social call.” Heavner’s tone was overtly hostile.

“It’s still a good morning,” I chirped.

“I thought I was explicit in asking that you refrain from interfering in cases assigned to my office.”

“You received my second email.”

“It seems I have not made myself clear.”

“Did you follow up on the Vodyanov ID?”

“How the hell did you obtain a sample for DNA testing?”

“Did I explain that Detective Slidell and I tossed Vodyanov’s car and confiscated personal items?” True but irrelevant. I wanted to divert Heavner. The dodge worked.

“I have no obligation to disclose this to you. I do so to demonstrate the inappropriateness of your behavior.” Meaningful pause. “There is no record of a Felix Vodyanov ever having been a guest at Sparkling Waters Ashram. There is no record of Dr. Yuriev treating such a person.”

“He probably registered under the name F.

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