The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

were grateful anyway. I have no idea what happened to it. When we all left on the last day, we just took our hats and lunch pails and locked all the doors behind us.” He looked at her again. “Is that what all this is about? Did someone steal the refrigerator?”

She gave him a small smile, and stood up. “No, nothing like that. It would be very helpful if I could take these photos with me. I promise you they’ll be treated well, and I’ll return them unharmed as soon as our investigation is over. Would that be okay?”

He looked at her doubtfully, then picked up the photo of his wife from where he’d placed it on the small table. “All of them?” he asked.

Kali watched him and saw a look in his eyes that she had seen more than once in her own, gazing back at her from the bathroom mirror as she brushed her hair and prepared herself for the day in a house where only she woke up each morning.

“Not that one,” she said. “Keep that beautiful photo of your wife here with you. I’ll take the others, and the album, and bring them back to you soon.”

His face brightened. He gathered the other photographs together and replaced them in their empty slots in the album, then handed it to Kali.

“That will be fine,” he said. “When you come back, maybe you would like to hear more stories about the pineapples.”

She took the album and nodded, moving toward the door. “I’d like that,” she said. “Meanwhile, thank you for your time. You’ve been a great help.”

She made her way back to the Jeep, placing the album gently on the seat beside her. The little glass star swung as she pulled her door closed and dug through her bag for her phone and punched in a number. Walter answered immediately.

“I’ve got something,” she said. “I’m heading back to the station now. See you in about an hour.”

CHAPTER 18

The photos loaned by Manuel Raso were spread across Kali’s desk. Walter stood beside her, looking through them, lifting each in turn to study the details. He lingered long on the one showing the refrigerator, holding it up to the light of the open window for a better look.

“So,” he said, “based on the fact that the fridge was still there when the pineapple plantation shut down permanently in 1997, we can eliminate our pineapple man going missing before then. Probably the others as well, as it’s unlikely a killer would have used the field as a cemetery while workers were still coming and going.”

Kali nodded her agreement.

They heard a chair push back. Hara stood up suddenly from his desk, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes, sir. I’ve added that information to the calculations,” he said, betraying his own excitement. “That leaves us seven males still unaccounted for, and four women that fit the general victim descriptions. And . . .”

Walter looked at him with a raised brow. “And what? Spit it out, Officer, before you explode. Or implode. Or possibly both.”

“We have a definite link between two of the missing people and the pineapple plantation,” said Hara, sitting back down, his excitement barely contained. “Reggie McCartney and Helen Stafford. An unmarried couple who fall within the physical parameters given to us by forensics for the male and female found with the infant. Went missing on Lna‘i in December of 1997. Helen Stafford was listed as a former employee at the pineapple operation.”

Walter let out a low whistle.

“Any mention of a child?” Kali asked. She could feel her pulse quickening.

“No,” said Hara, “but it looks like there’s a sister in Reno, Nevada. Both her home and work numbers are here, with a note that she helps out afternoons at a senior center near where she lives. We have that number, too.”

Walter’s phone buzzed. He looked at the small screen, replacing the photo on the table. “It’s Stitches.”

Kali stood up, moving closer. “Put her on speakerphone.”

Walter nodded, then answered the call. “Hello, Doctor. I’m here with Kali and Officer Hara. We have you on speaker. What’s up?”

Stitches’s voice reverberated throughout the interior of the office. “The dental records for Matthew Greene supplied by his parents are an exact match for the second skeleton,” she said without preamble. “The parents also positively identified that sunburst belt buckle, which had apparently been a gift from the mother. DNA samples were also provided by the mother and father and are being compared to what we have here. Test results will be in later today, but I believe we have an identity: Matthew Alan Greene.”

“One down,” said Walter. “That’s good. But we’re not any closer to finding out what happened to Matthew, or why.”

“You aren’t any closer,” corrected Stitches. “We are still evaluating the remaining unidentified bodies. I’ll be in touch soon.” A beep followed, then silence. Walter put his phone away and turned to the others.

“Thoughts?”

“More calls. What time is it in Reno?” asked Kali, walking across the room. She stood next to Hara’s chair, peering at his screen, where the list of missing persons was displayed.

Hara typed rapidly on his keyboard, pulling up the local time. “Close to noon,” he said, waiting for instructions.

“Okay,” said Kali. “And what’s the sister’s name?”

“Marcia Woolsey,” said Hara. “The number—”

“I see it. Let’s try the home number first.” She pulled her own phone out of her back pocket and dialed the number that had been entered next to the woman’s name. She activated the speaker option on the phone, and all three of them listened to the sound of ringing on the other end.

Outside, a breeze moved the branches of the ‘kia shrubs growing along the side of the building, stirring up the scent of the plant’s small, yellow-tinged flowers, gently wafting through the widow screen into the air of the room. All the while the ringing continued, until a woman answered.

“Hello?”

Kali glanced at the others. “Marcia Woolsey?”

There