Kathy Reichs_Bones_06 by Bare Bones

Author:Bare Bones
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780754019657
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2003-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

21

THE EASTERN HORIZON STARTS OOZING GRAY AROUND FIVE-THIRTY in August in Piedmont North Carolina. By six the sun is heading uphill.

I awoke at first ooze, watched dawn define the objects on my dresser, nightstand, chair, and walls.

Ryan was sprawled on his stomach beside me. Birdie lay curled in the crook of my knees.

I lasted in bed until half past six.

Birdie blinked when I slipped from under the covers. He stood and arched as I collected my panties from the lampshade. I heard paws thump carpet as I tiptoed from the room.

The refrigerator hummed to me while I made coffee. Outside, birds exchanged the morning’s avian gossip.

Moving as quietly as possible, I poured and drank a glass of orange juice, then collected Boyd’s leash and went to the study.

The chow was stretched full length on the sofa, left foreleg upright against the seat back, right extended across his head.

Boyd the Protector.

“Boyd,” I whispered.

The dog went from flat on his side to four on the floor without seeming to move through any intermediary stage.

“Here, boy.”

No eye contact.

“Boyd.”

The chow rolled his eyes up at me but didn’t budge.

“Walk?”

Boyd held steady, a picture of skepticism.

I dangled the leash.

No go.

“I’m not upset about the couch.”

Boyd dropped his head, looked up, and did a demi-twirl with each eyebrow.

“Really.”

Boyd’s ears pricked forward and his head canted.

“Come on.” I uncoiled the leash.

Realizing it was not a trap, and that a walk was actually afoot, Boyd raced around the sofa, ran back to me and jumped up with his forepaws on my chest, dropped, spun, jumped up again, and began lapping my cheek.

“Don’t push it,” I said, clipping the leash to his collar.

A fine mist floated among the trees and shrubs at Sharon Hall. Though I felt reassured by the presence of a seventy-pound chow, I was still filled with a formless apprehension as we moved about the grounds, kept watching for a flash, or the flicker of light on a camera lens.

Four squirrels and twenty minutes later, Boyd and I were back at the annex. Ryan was at the kitchen table, full mug of coffee and unopened Observer in front of him. He smiled when we entered, but I saw something in his eyes, like the shadow of a cloud passing over waves.

Boyd trotted to the table, placed his chin on Ryan’s knee, and looked up with the expectation of bacon. Ryan patted his head.

I poured myself coffee and joined them.

“Hey,” I said.

Ryan leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth.

“Hey.” Taking both my hands, he looked into my eyes. It was not a happy look.

“What’s happened?” I asked, fear pricking my stomach.

“My sister called.”

I waited.

“My niece has been hospitalized.”

“I’m so sorry.” I squeezed his hands. “An accident?”

“No.” Ryan’s jaw muscles bulged. “Danielle did it on purpose.”

I could think of nothing to say.

“My sister is pretty fragmented. Crises are not her forte.”

Ryan’s Adam’s apple rose and fell.

“Motherhood is not her forte.”

Though curious to know what had happened, I didn’t push. Ryan would tell the story in his own way.

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