Skye Cree 03: The Bones Will Tell Read Online Free Page B

over into dinner that night at their stylish loft, located in Seattle’s upscale Pike Tri area where Skye played hostess to their family. Along with Travis Nakota, Doug and Phyllis Ander gathered around the dining room table waiting for a nervous Skye to take the roast out of the oven—a tasty pork and pineapple recipe she’d found in one of the new cookbooks she’d gotten.
    When she did finally make her way through the swinging door from kitchen to dining room, she glanced around the open layout. The polished wood floors might gleam but right this minute she regretted having not taken the time to put her own touches on the place. She should have. The condo still felt like it belonged solely to Josh. Her fault, she knew. Even though she’d hoped to make it feel more like her home by bringing over her clothes and a few knickknacks, she still felt Annabelle’s presence. After all, the woman had died here. That fact alone had to be weighing on Josh, too. Maybe it was time to get serious about a new address instead of buying new pillows or a bucket of paint.
    But it was too late now to worry about things like color schemes. She had hungry guests to feed.
    Josh nudged her into a chair and whispered, “Stop worrying. The table’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. And I love you.”
    S he took a deep breath, let it out one layer at a time and dropped into the chair.
    Over slow-cooked pork tenderloin, rice and asparagus tips, Skye looked around the table and picked up her glass of wine. “So how many serial killers do you suppose work an area at any given time? I mean, we’ve had our share in Seattle over the years but how many do you think are active here?”
    “I’ve read the numbers , the studies,” Josh said, taking a sip of the cabernet. “Some have estimated there are between thirty-five and three hundred active serials around the world. I’d say locally there could be as many as ten and as few as four at any one time working the area along the I-5 from Canada down to the California border.”
    “ Those numbers sound awfully high to me,” Doug interjected.
    But about that time Skye caught the appalled look on Phyllis’s face. She quickly apologized. “Oh, sorry. I guess this isn’t the usual conversation you’re used to having over supper. We’ve gotten into several bad habits lately, talking about murders are par for the course.”
    Phyllis bristled at getting caught and cleared her throat. “I’m not without a sense that such subject matter takes place in this house of late, but I’d rather not discuss morbid things like that at the dinner table.”
    “You’re right,” Skye said.
    “No, she isn’t,” Josh imparted. “Sorry, Mom, that you’re uncomfortable. But I’d like to point out predators count on people like you to avoid conversations like this one. Let me ask you something. What if you knew someone who was a victim? What if it was one of your loved ones? What if you knew your daughter or son was out there somewhere, missing, taken by an unknown assailant? What if the police decided they’d left on their own though? What if you didn’t buy that theory? So now, you’re stuck, in a black hole because you’re never quite sure what happened to them. You have no answers, no clues. The reality is there are families out there exactly like that. They’re left wondering what happened to a son or a daughter. If we can’t have a dialogue about predators like this who grab strangers off the streets, then what’s the point? Part of working to find the bastards who do this type of thing is to make people aware—even if it is over pineapple pork and rice.”
    Doug put his hand on his wife’s wrist. “You know, Phyllis, Josh is right. It’s one thing to avoid the topic entirely but if a conversation helps figure out who’s responsible for sending Skye that box of bones, and ultimately finding out the identity of the victim, then so be it.”
    Chastised, Phyllis glanced at her husband, her son,