Break No Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A

daughter, Katy.
    "How long wil you stay in Halifax?"
    "We'l see how it goes. I haven't given up on that idea of joining you if you're stil wiling to hang there awhile."
    Oh, boy.
    "That could be complicated. Pete just caled. He may be here for a day or two."
    Ryan waited.
    "He has business in Charleston, so Anne invited him. What could I say? It's Anne's house and the place has enough beds to accommodate the Colege of Cardinals."
    "Beds or bedrooms?"
    At times Ryan had the tact of a wrecking bal.
    "Cal me tomorrow?" I closed the topic.
    "Scrub your number from that men's-room wal?"
    "You bet, sailor."
    I was wired after talking to Pete and Ryan. Or maybe it was the unplanned power nap. I knew I wouldn't sleep.
    Puling on shorts, I padded barefoot across the boardwalk. The tide was out, and the beach yawned fifty yards to the water's edge. A gazilion stars winked overhead.
    Walking the surf, I let my thoughts roam.
    Pete, my first love. My only love for over two decades.
    Ryan, my first gamble since Pete's betrayal.
    Katy, my wonderful, flighty, finaly-about-to-be-a-colege-graduate daughter.
    But mostly, I pondered that sad grave on Dewees. Violent death is my job. I see it often, yet I never get used to it.
    I have come to think of violence as a self-perpetuating mania of the power of the aggressive over those less strong. Friends ask how I can bear to do the work that I do. It is simple. I am committed to demolishing the maniacs before they demolish more innocents.
    Violence wounds the body and it wounds the soul. Of the predator. Of the prey. Of the mourners. Of colective humanity. It diminishes us al.
    In my view, death in anonymity is the ultimate insult to human dignity. To spend eternity under a Jane Doe plaque. To disappear nameless into an unmarked grave without those who care about you knowing that you have gone. That offends. While I cannot make the dead live again, I can reunite victims with their names, and give those left behind some measure of closure. In that way, I help the dead to speak, to say a final good-bye, and, sometimes, to say what took their lives.
    I knew I would do what Emma was asking. Because of who I am. Because of what I feel. I would not walk away.

    4
    THE NEXT MORNING, I LAY IN BED STARING INTO THE BREACH OF the opening day. I had failed to lower the blinds, so I watched dawn tint the ocean, the dunes, and the deck outside Anne's sliding glass doors.
    Closing my eyes, I thought about Ryan. His reaction had been predictable, meant to amuse. But I wondered what he'd say if he were here. If he'd seen the grave. And I regretted my annoyance with him. I missed him. We'd been apart for over a month.
    I thought about Pete. Endearing, charming, adulterous Pete. I told myself I'd forgiven him. But had I? If not, why didn't I file for divorce and cut myself loose?
    Lawyers and paperwork. But was that realy it?
    I turned on my side and puled the quilt to my chin.
    I thought about Emma. She'd be caling soon. What would I tel her?
    I had no reason to refuse Emma's request. Sure, Charleston wasn't my turf. But Dan Jaffer would be out of the country for several more weeks. Anne was offering "Sea for Miles" for as long as I wanted. Ryan was in Nova Scotia, but had talked of possibly coming to Charleston. Katy was in Chile, doing a four-week course on Spanish literature.
    I smiled. "Cervantes and Cerveza," my daughter had dubbed her summer program. Whatever the project, those last three credits would close out a BA six years in the making. Yes!
    Back to Emma. Emma dilemma.
    My students could transport the equipment to UNCC. I could complete their evaluations here and e-mail the grades. I could do the same with my site report for the state archaeologist.
    Were cases piling up in Montreal? I could cal and find out.
    What to do?
    Easy one. Bagel and coffee.
    Throwing back the covers, I dressed.
    Quick toilette. Hair in a pony. Done.
    That's probably what attracted me to archaeology. No makeup, no fluffing or