Break No Bones [Temperance Brennan 9] by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Temperance (Fictitious Character), Montreal (Quebec), Mystery & Detective, Montréal (Québec), Political, Charleston (S.C.), Women Forensic Anthropologists, American, Pizza Industry, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, Brennan, Thrillers, Suspense, Fiction, General, Restaurants
ISBN: 9780743453035
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2006-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

I was talking as I read.

"Lot of foreign names. Some impressive appointments. Neurology — University of Chicago; internal medicine — Georgetown; emergency medicine — Duke. No Lester Marshal, but the name Dominic Rodriguez is circled. Do you suppose Cruikshank was looking at this guy because he and Marshal were classmates? But why Rodriguez?

He's a cutter, Marshal's family medicine."

Ryan thought about that.

"Marshal dropped out of sight in Tulsa in eighty-nine, reappeared in Charleston in ninety-five. You're saying Rodriguez slipped under the radar in San Diego in ninety. That's curious."

I was replacing the first envelope when I noticed a flyer lying flat up against the side of the box. I took it out. The thing was a one-page travel brochure touting the benefits of a health spa in Puerto Valarta, Mexico.

"Maybe Rodriguez was Mexican," I said, holding the ad up. "Started pining for the homeland."

"Right." Meaning, not a chance.

"It happens. Surgeons burn out. Maybe Rodriguez went to Puerto Valarta in ninety to practice medicine in a less stressful environment."

"A spa?"

"The text promises medicaly trained personnel offering options found in few clinics worldwide."

"Such as?"

"There's a number you have to cal."

"Maybe Cruikshank had the ad because he was looking for a detox program south of the border."

"Why?"

"The guy was a drunk."

"Why Mexico?"

"Good burritos."

Orbital rol. "Making progress with the code?"

"Yes."

"Realy?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Patience, fair maiden."

Tossing the flyer into the box, I opened the second envelope.

Again, the contents were photocopies and printouts. There were six, maybe seven in al, some single sheets, others composed of multiple pages.

I started reading. At first, I was confused. As comprehension grew, the room receded around me, and a dark feeling took root inside me.

When I'd finished the articles, I checked the table of contents in the crime book. There it was. Fingers cold with dread, I turned to the chapter. A yelow Post-it marked the page, suggesting that particular case had been the focus of Cruikshank's interest.

Every neuron in my mind screamed no! The explanation was just too macabre. But it al fit. The clinic. The disappearances. The cut marks on Helms and Montague.

Had Helene Flynn been murdered because she'd learned about this? Had she stumbled on the truth while searching for evidence of financial wrongdoing? Had Cruikshank also found out?

I opened my lips to share the horrific idea with Ryan. I never spoke.

The next few moments exploded so quickly that in my memory there was no sequence. My later attempts to reconstruct the chronology yielded only jumbled images.

Pete moving toward the kitchen. Boyd rocketing from the den. Boyd barking. The kitchen light shooting arrows onto the corridor wal. A gunshot ringing out. Me on the floor, Ryan pressing my head to the carpet. Ryan's weight leaving my back. Me scrambling toward the kitchen, crouching, terrified. The barking more frenzied.

My blood freezing in my veins. Pete facedown on the floor, red mushrooming from some unseeable wound.

30

AN AMBULANCE ARRIVED. RYAN HELD ME IN HIS ARMS AS TWO paramedics worked on Pete. Boyd whined and scratched on the far side of the pantry door. I shared his fear.

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