Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) Read Online Free

comprehending we noticed what was there for us to see all along.
    We emphatically understood that none of these women would have entered a stranger’s vehicle without duress. Among the differences in age, race, wealth, locations, working women or socialite status, there was one common thread. None of the women had children.
    “Whatever we have or don’t have, the victimology is consistent,” Schlep noted.
    Nodding to me, he quickly left to do further background on the women, hoping to find something else that might further link the victims.
    Excited, I called Manning in, asking him to sit in the chair Schlep had vacated to view the wall.
    “What’s the connection?” I asked.
    “I’ve given you all I have. There’s none that I can see.”
    “Look at them, Manning.”
    Manning grunted, frustrated by my challenge and scuffing his cheap leather shoes under the cheap metal chair.
    “Damn it, Manning, you’re a guy. They’re all very pretty, don’t you think?”
    Manning’s face turned a slight shade of crimson and he said, “Well, yes. They are. Beautiful. So, what are you saying? Rape? Being held hostage somewhere? Hostage wombs?”
    I shook my head. “We have no bodies. We really don’t know if a struggle was involved because there’s no DNA under any fingernails. There are no fingernails. We can only theorize that their good looks come into play and sexual aggression may have been a motivation. They’re also quite small, or even with the taller ones, they’re thin. Maybe not too much strength.”
    “I’ll go with being chosen to breed,” Manning surmised.
    I nodded. “Maybe. What are the feds doing?”
    “They’re only interested in the congresswoman. They have their hands full hunting down her political enemies of which she has plenty. That will keep them busy for a while,” Manning said, bringing his hands up to scratch at the unruly hair at his temples.
    “And out of our hair,” he added.
    “Like someone really wants to climb into that mop of yours,” I laughed.
     
    WHEN SANDRA VICKERY opened the beautiful Papyrus card delivered to her front door, she was uncertain. She didn’t have many friends except for a few who got money from her. This was not an invitation to a fundraising gala. There was no return address.
    After reading the card, she laughed, grabbing a cigarette and a Mimosa. An invitation from the bitch, Jessica Silva. The whore wanted to meet her for a late lunch at a local resort.
    Delicious and perfect, Sandra thought.
     
    SANDRA SHOWED UP twenty-minutes late but Jessica didn’t mind. The citrus trees were in full bloom. Their fragrances graced the air. The grasses were green. Early March marched in with no last chance of frost in the high desert and the songbirds agreed with the schedule.
    Jessica, already seated out on the patio, stood to greet her guest. She extended her hand which was not accepted.
    “I guess I’ve been summoned,” Sandra said, patting down her Chanel skirt.
    “I thought it would be good to meet in person, rather than me seeing your car drive by my home and the television station almost every day.”
    “Observant of you.”
    Jessica cleared her throat, her fingers forming a steeple in front of her as she held her chin high. “I’ve ordered a bottle of Merlot. Will you have a glass?”
    Sandra snapped at a nearby waiter and ordered call vodka. “I don’t consume anything that will stain my teeth. Now, amuse me and cut to the chase. Why are we here?”
    “To the point. I like that. Not that we couldn’t be enjoying the waterfall and the flowering trees and delight in the birds,” Jessica said.
    With pursed lips, a forced smile came across Sandra’s face. Her voice was remarkably calm and well-paced, masking the tenacity of the words she was about to say. “I know everything there is to know about you. You’re a lame reporter only getting by on your good looks to be a news anchor. And you’re sleeping with my husband.”
    Jessica threw her