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“Rebecca? You don’t ride this way to school, do you?”

“No. I go down Atlantic, like you told me to,” she said, as if wondering why she would even ask such a stupid question.

“Right. That’s what I thought.”

They reached the school. Laura stopped the car along the curb by the front entrance. Rebecca grabbed her book bag and scanned the yard for bullies, searching for the path of least resistance. She opened the door and stepped out.

“Have a good day, sweetie. Try to have fun, okay?”

Rebecca waved goodbye and headed inside. Tommy spotted her, altering his trajectory to ensure their paths would cross. He stuck his foot out as she passed by, but she didn’t fall. Rebecca was ready and had steadied herself.

Laura wasn’t ready, and bit her lower lip when she saw it happen. She put the car in park and was ready to get out to strangle the little shit when Rebecca turned at the top of the school steps, waving at her with a strained smile. Laura waved back, her mouth a flat line. Rebecca disappeared inside. Laura waited a few seconds before putting the car in gear, still squeezing the steering wheel.

Rebecca made her way through the hall, avoiding eye contact. A friendly voice penetrated her defenses and she looked up.

“Hi,” Holly said. How brave to risk humiliation, Rebecca thought. She smiled back.

“What, are you friends with this weirdo?” Christina said. Held back in first grade, Christina was tall and as beautiful as she was evil.

“Are we friends, Rebecca?” Holly asked.

For a moment Rebecca wasn’t sure if Holly was hoping she’d answer no just to bail her out, or if she was standing her ground, even sticking up for her. Holly also didn’t have many friends, but from what she knew, Rebecca figured Holly couldn’t care less what the other kids thought of her.

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

Holly turned back to Christina. “I guess we’re friends.”

Christina made a face like she smelled something foul and walked away shaking her head. “Psycho…”

Holly walked with Rebecca to class. “Don’t let those jerks get to you,” Holly said. Rebecca nodded. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten that advice.

CHAPTER 22

Sam Cheung was considered one of the best forensic pathologists in his field. He had thick black hair and wore silver rimmed bifocals. He stood alongside Jack, examining the bones of the deceased girl. Sam pointed with a serrated blade to the area around the clavicle and jawbone. Jack leaned in.

“The hyoid bone was crushed. Here and here, see? Powerful hands.”

The skull was tilted backwards, mouth open, as if frozen in a silent scream. Sam walked around the table, removing the tarp that covered the victim’s lower extremities. He’d cleaned the excess dirt and residue from the cadaver. The bones had acquired a yellowish color from the years of decay.

“These marks on the fibula and ankle were caused by some sort of restraint, a wire. Lab’s testing the residue.” Sam pointed to each mark as he described them. “She pulled so hard to break free, it dug right through the skin, serrated the bone.”

“Held captive?” asked Jack. Sam nodded.

“Same as the others.” Sam lifted the foot of the victim. “There’s trauma to the patella and feet. These indentations here were caused by being kept immobile on a hard surface for an extended period of time. The ulna and radius in the right forearm were shattered, possibly from blunt trauma, a fall maybe.”

Jack examined the remains, trying to envision what the girl once looked like. For a brief moment, he became introspective. He saw himself lying on that cold table, someone poking around at him. Only there would be no question what did him in.

Jack’s eyes drifted over the bones. He looked at the pale flesh of his own hand, then back at the skeleton. Soon that will be all that’s left of Jack Ridge.

He drifted inwardly long enough for Sam to notice. He cleared his throat and Jack looked up.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry—” Jack said as he erupted into a coughing fit that echoed loudly in the cramped, white tiled exam room.

“Sounds serious.”

“Continue.” Jack wiped his mouth with a folded handkerchief. Sam moved back up towards the skull.

“No cavities. These missing front teeth weren’t from poor hygiene.” Jack exhaled painfully.

“How long on an ID?”

“Still waiting on dental. If she’s US, it shouldn’t take long. If the caregiver’s abroad, might be a few days, a week, maybe more.”

“The coroner at the scene estimated she’d been down there possibly 10 years.”

“Yes, at least that.” Sam removed his glasses to rub his eyes, leaning on the table. “The years of decay make it hard to determine ultimate cause of death. But it doesn’t appear to have been quick and painless.”

Jack stared long and hard, his brain spinning. The press would want to know, first and foremost, the source of the information that led him to discover her remains. He had no answer for them. None that made sense anyway.

CHAPTER 23

Jack sat in his office and watched the clock; it was almost 11 A.M. He was so certain the body unearthed would be Angelina’s, he’d made peace with the end of his tenure as detective while scaling that hill. When he learned it wasn’t, it was like he’d gotten a reprieve. A second chance. It spurred him to work even harder, smarter.

The pain was like caffeine, keeping him awake. He shook two pills into his hand. Then a third. It was so unbearable now, painkillers were becoming like candy. And they really weren’t doing much for him. The doctor offered to up his prescription to something more powerful, but the side effects prevented him from driving, concentrating. Right now that wasn’t an option.

Harrington entered, carrying a printout. “I took the over on Denver last night. Drinks are on me.”

Jack put his bottle of pills away discretely, behind the most recently printed edition of the Police Procedural Guide for Collecting Evidence.

“Oh, I forgot,” Harrington said, “you don’t go out. You don’t socialize at all, do you?”

“Is that it?” Jack asked, holding out his hand. Harrington tossed him the printout.

“Her name’s Carmen Muniz, she was 19.” Jack’s eyes gravitated towards the smiling picture of Carmen at the top. A face to the bones. Plain, young, sweet; she resembled all the others.

“Carl said she was held captive, several months or more,” Jack said.

“If you’re right, then this guy’s been getting away with murder for over ten years.”

“I know I am.”

“Press is going nuts. The Captain’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing all morning. Everyone wants to know how her body was found…Jack.”

“I was hoping we could keep it out of the press for a while.”

“I can run a play fake, but that will only buy us a little time.”

Jack read through the document some more, there was a listing for a next of kin, Hester Muniz, with an address. “This guy likes to have his way with them. Take his time.”

“A power thing?”

“Maybe. It means Angelina might still be alive. This girl, Carmen, parents been notified yet?”

“I don’t think so,” Harrington said. Jack stood and reached for his coat. “Oh, you volunteer? Good.”

“He didn’t bury the others, made no attempts at all to conceal their bodies,” Jack said. “Why this one? What was he afraid of?”

“Maybe it was his first? He was less cavalier?”

“Maybe she was too close to home. Which means he’ll be nervous we found her.” Jack collected the report, tucking loose pages back inside the folder. He headed for the door.