Page 101 of Silent Bones

Eleanor glanced back.

Dusty was still barking, now at the edge of the woods. The last light of evening was almost gone, shadows pooling beneath the trees like something living.

She didn’t know what she’d walked into. But she knew one thing with certainty.

The Calder girl was gone.

Redand blue lights pulsed across the trees like a slow, unspoken alarm. By the time Noah pulled onto Pine Haven Road, the streetwas crawling with cruisers. Uniforms clustered by the driveway. The back porch was already cordoned off with yellow tape.

He parked behind a cruiser and stepped out into air that had gone suddenly cold. Callie headed into the hoe while Noah went over and looked at the deputy who had been ambushed and murdered.

“Son of a bitch.”

He watched as EMTs loaded him into a body bag.

Noah rose and sighed, running a hand over his head. He made his way into the house.

Callie stood just outside the kitchen door, her back stiff, fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t turn as he approached. Just kept staring at something inside.

“What do we have?” he asked quietly.

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were glassy. “The dog was out. The neighbor found the door open. Milk on the floor. Avery’s phone is missing. She’s gone.”

“Shit.”

Noah stepped past her and into the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was the smell, faintly sour. A thin film of white streaked across the tile. The kind of chaos that didn’t come from intention but from a moment cracking in two.

Callie moved beside him and pointed toward the leash now attached to a porch railing outside. “Dusty had blood on his collar. Not much. Could be his own. Could be hers.”

Noah didn’t respond. He just looked around. The scene wasn’t violent in a traditional sense. No overturned chairs. No signs of forced entry. But something was deeply wrong.

Then headlights spilled across the yard as a dark SUV came barreling in, tires spitting gravel. The driver’s door flung open before the vehicle fully stopped.

Bill Calder stormed out.

He wore his uniform, or what was left of it. Tie half-knotted, collar open, gun clipped to his belt but ignored. He moved like a man already in free fall.

“Where is she?” he barked, scanning the yard.

Noah stepped out to meet him. “We’re working on it, Bill. The house is secure. We’ve got people canvassing the?—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sutherland,” Calder snapped. “Where is my daughter?”

Callie’s mouth opened, then closed again. No one had an answer.

Bill shoved past the tape, storming through the kitchen in two strides, then stopped.

He saw the glass. The milk. The single shoe. And whatever fire he’d come in with, the commander’s bluster, the badge, the DEC officer’s training, it all seemed to drain from his face.

His shoulders dropped. The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. It was hollow.

“I told her to stay home tonight,” he whispered.

Callie moved closer, her voice gentler now. “Bill?—”

“She asked me if she should come to the station. She was scared. I told her no. I told her to stay here. I was busy. I figured she would be safe at home with the deputy posted outside. Where is he?”

“Dead.”