Bones and Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A

away at a desktop computer as ancient-looking as the office’s sparse furnishings. “You’re late,” he says in a gravelly voice without looking up. He speaks with a pronounced New York accent that matches the Yankees jersey he has on. Clearly he’s not from around here. Nor does he appear to have a pressing appointment I’m keeping him from.
    I glance at my watch. “Five minutes. But I didn’t think it was a big—”
    â€œCome with me.” He stands up and grabs a key from the wooden pegboard above the desk. We’re out the door before he bothers to introduce himself. “Tom McGee.” A calloused hand wraps around mine, then he’s plowing ahead of me. I have to practically run to catch up to him.
    As he leads the way to my unit in the uppermost row, I find myself studying McGee surreptitiously. He reminds me of guys you see in AA meetings, scruffy and unshaven with puffy eyes, though from the odor of stale beer that wafts toward me it’s obvious he’s not in the program. He looks to be in his mid-forties, with a gaunt face and dark brown hair slicked back in a ponytail that more closely resembles a rat’s tail. The only thing about him that isn’t dull or worn-looking is his eyes: they’re as black and sharp as a raptor’s. A corner of his thin-lipped mouth hooks up in a half-smile as he hands me the key to the padlock when we finally arrive at my unit.
    â€œHave at it. But don’t blame me if there’s a dead body in there.” He has a sense of humor at least.
    My first thought as I peer into the darkened interior is that this has to be somebody’s idea of a joke. Because at first glance the unit appears to be empty. Only when my eyes adjust do I spot the footlocker in the shadowy recesses at one end.
    â€œWell, what do you know,” Ivy comments dryly. “I always wondered what happened to D. B. Cooper’s loot.”
    I move in to get a closer look. The footlocker is army-issue and coated with at least three inches of dust. I stare at it without moving. It’s not padlocked, but it might as well be. For some reason I’m hesitant to open it. I begin to shiver, feeling chilled to the bone; I could be standing in a meat locker. I was so busy guarding against false hope, it didn’t occur to me I might be in for a nasty surprise. I pissed off a lot of people during my drinking days, and I haven’t gotten around to making amends to all of them. What if one of them is harboring a grudge and this is their way of getting back at me? When I finally turn the key that’s in the lock and lift the lid with a haunted-house groan of rusted hinges, I’m relieved when a rattlesnake doesn’t jump out at me. Instead I’m met with something bulky wrapped in a filthy, blue, plastic tarp bound with nylon rope. The unpleasant odor that wafts my way tells me it hasn’t seen the light of day in some time. McGee assists me in pulling the bundle onto the concrete floor. He uses the box cutter he produced from his back pocket to cut the rope. I peel back the layers of tarp to reveal what it holds.
    Then I start to scream.

CHAPTER TWO
    The remains are clearly human: a grinning skull with matted hair, a skeleton curled in a fetal position. A half-crumbled bouquet of roses is the final grisly touch. The world goes black at the edges and my knees buckle. I’m distantly aware of arms catching me before the blackness closes over me.
    When I regain consciousness, I’m lying on the ground looking up at blue sky. Two faces hover over me, one gaunt and whiskery, the other pale, framed with a riot of black curls. Ivy and McGee are peering down at me like a pair of concerned parents at a child who’d fallen down and bumped her head. I struggle into an upright position, dry-mouthed, head swimming. I’m sitting on the strip of stubbly grass that borders the row of units. Ivy helps me up. Every ounce of my being