Island of Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A

guns and rape slide smears. And he sure couldn’t see it ending up being just a macabre souvenir on the medical examiner’s shelf.
    He thought of Roberta Tatum again. It's what’s left of a baby.
    They were slowing, coming up alongside an old skiff bobbing empty. Then he saw a man in a wide-brimmed hat waving at them from the mangroves.
    “Can I have it?” he asked Horton.
    “The skull? Why?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe because I found it.”
    “Hell, I don’t care. I’ll give you a call when I get it back.”
    The officer looked back at Horton. “Low tide. This is as far as I can go without grounding her, Chief,” he said
    Horton surveyed the island still a good twenty-five yards away. The water ahead was shallow, leading to a stretch of black mud leading into the dense, twisting roots of the mangroves.
    “Shit,” Horton muttered.
    With a grunt he hoisted himself over the side and landed with a splash in the knee-high water. He started slogging toward the man in the straw hat.
    Louis watched as Landeta calmly took off his suit jacket , folded it, and laid it on a seat. Then he carefully climbed out and eased himself down into the water. He started slowly after Horton, his arms held up, a gold watch glinting in the sun.
    The driver was looking at Louis. Louis glanced at the mangroves, then back at the patrolman.
    “I guess I should leave my shoes on,” Louis said.
    “I would, sir. Don’t want to cut yourself on those oyster shells or kick up a stingray.”
    Louis got in the water. It felt good, cool after the hot sun. But the feeling vanished as he reached the mud flats. The low-tide stench was overwhelming and the black mud sucked him ankle-deep as he trudged toward the mangroves. When he pulled up next to Horton and Landeta, he was breathing heavy and sweating.
    The man who had been waiting for them was wearing tattered shorts and a shirt, a grimy straw hat covering his hair.
    “I’ve been keeping an eye on her,” he said. “I had to leave to call the cops but I came right back. She ain’t moved. You can see her good now that the tide’s out.”
    “How’d you find her?” Horton asked.
    “I fish for mullet every night around here,” the man said. “At dawn, I went in to pull my nets. That’s when I saw the white thing in the water by the roots. I thought it was just a trash bag but when I went close I saw that it weren’t. So I got out of here and called you guys.”
    “Where’s the body, Mr. Peg?”
    Louis turned at the sound of the deep soft voice. It was the first thing Landeta had said all morning.
    “Peg, it’s just Peg.” The old man pointed into the gloom of the mangroves. “Over theres. You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?”
    Landeta didn’t answer. He headed straight into the dense trees, picking his way carefully across the exposed mangrove roots. Horton stayed to question the old man. Louis decided to follow Landeta.
    He entered a cave of branches, the sun suddenly gone. The stink was incredible , a suffocating brew of fetid water, dank dirt and bird droppings. Louis started to gag and had to stop. The moment he did, the mosquitoes closed in.
    He pulled a deep breath and trudged on, grabbing the mangrove branches to keep moving through the gloom. Landeta was a patch of white ahead, his dress shirt sweat-plastered to his back. Finally, Landeta stopped.
    Louis struggled to his side and looked down.
    For a second, he thought she was just a girl. But then he realized it was only because of the way the body was compressed into the tangled mangrove roots.
    He guessed the force of the water had done it somehow, but it was still grotesque. The torso was facing outward, but was bent forward at the waist around a large root. The right arm was twisted back over the shoulder, the left arm hanging limp in front. The head hung oddly low on the chest, like the neck was broken.
    Her face was hidden by her jaw-length hair, which hung lank and mud-caked, looking almost like