Cross Bones [Temperance Brennan 8] by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Israel, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery & Detective, Medical, Montréal (Québec), Political, American, North Carolina, Women Forensic Anthropologists, Fiction, Pizza Industry, Montreal (Quebec), Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, General, Thrillers, Suspense, Brennan, Temperance (Fictitious Character), Restaurants
ISBN: 9780743453028
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2005-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

I heard panting and claws scraping stone. I turned my light toward the tunnel. The jackal was slinking out of sight.

Amazingly, the flashlight continued to shine, though weakly. Quick assessment. I gave the jackal time to put mileage between us, then crawled toward the tunnel. There had been some col apse, but the stones were nothing I couldn’t handle.

I spent two minutes lifting and rol ing rock, then positioned my feet as before and flexed to heave myself upward.

And realized my left hip had taken a hit. Great. Al I needed was another tumble and I’d be down here for a very long time.

Dropping back, I tested my legs.

As I shifted from foot to foot, my light angled upward and caught a hol ow from which rocks had been knocked free.

I let my beam sniff the scar.

It looked deep. Too deep.

I rose and wedged myself upward into the tunnel for a closer look.

The scar wasn’t a scar. It was a breach.

Angling the beam, I peered into the void beyond.

It took a moment for my eyes to pick it out.

It took another for my mind to comprehend.

Oh my God! I had to show Jake!

Injuries forgotten, I pul ed myself upward.

Just below the tunnel mouth, I paused and peeked out, prairie-dog style.

The upper chamber looked empty. No Jake. No jackal.

“Jake!” I hissed.

No answer.

“Jake!” I repeated as loudly as I could without bringing in vocal cords.

Same nonresponse.

I braced my feet, threw out my arms, and pul ed and pushed myself onto the upper-chamber floor.

Jake didn’t appear.

Ignoring the objections of my shoulder and hip, I rose to a squat and looked around in the flashlight sweep.

I was alone.

I listened.

No sound filtered in from outside the tomb.

Rotating quickly, I moved my beam through the velvety black around me.

Blue flashed in the darkness of a northern loculus.

What the hel ?

I knew what the hel .

I worked the light. I was right. The hockey bag.

But why? Where was Jake?

“Jake!” Ful vocal.

I dropped to al fours, crawled toward the loculus, stopped. Jake had hidden the bag for a reason. Reversing, I crawled toward the tomb’s entrance.

It was then I heard the first sound since leaving the tunnel. I froze, head cocked.

A muffled voice.

Another.

Shouting.

Jake’s voice. Words I couldn’t make out. Hebrew?

More words I couldn’t make out. Angry words.

A soft thud. Another.

Running footsteps.

The blackness grew blacker. I glanced toward the entrance.

Legs were blocking the smal square of sunlight.

22

IN A HEARTBEAT,BOOTS SHOT INTO THE TOMB . ABODY FOLLOWED .A large body.

I scrabbled backward and pressed myself to a wal . Crumpled cans jabbed my knees and pop-tops gouged the palms of my hands.

My mind flashed again to the man on the val ey rim. My heart pounded. Sweet Mother of God! Would I live through this day?

Tightening my grip, I raised the flashlight, ready to strike.

The body had settled onto its haunches, back to me. My beam lit coconut palms on Waikiki blue.

I took my first breath since seeing the legs. Outside I could hear shouting.

“What the hel ’s going on?”

“Hevrat Kadisha.

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