Page 100 of The Bone Code

“The young-un took off, just like her mama.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“No.”

“Does she keep in touch?”

“No.” A pause, then, “I’ll be honest, ma’am. Harmony was a handful after her mama left. And I’ll admit, I was drinking some then.”

“How was she a handful?”

“Had a temper like a hornet. We’d argue, usually about her schooling and such, she’d run off, sometimes stay away for weeks. Then she’d turn up and carry on like nothing happened. That was her way. She’d come and go. The last time she went, she didn’t come back.”

“Did she have a boyfriend?”

“Beats me. Like I said, me and the hooch was in a relationship.”

France’s nostrils blanched on a quick intake of air.

Afraid we might lose his cooperation, I asked gently, “Did Harmony ever break her arm?”

“Yes, ma’am. That she did.” Same note of surprise. “Fell off a skateboard. I took her to the ER. They fixed her up with a cast and all. She didn’t like it none, but she wore it.”

“Did she frequent a youth shelter called Amity House?”

France nodded, apparently no longer astonished at the amount of personal info I had. “That’s the reason I didn’t fret none. I always reckoned that’s where she’d go.”

“When was the last time you saw your granddaughter?”

Again, the uplifted chin. This time, the liver-spotted hand stroked the dog, not his throat.

“February the fifth, two thousand and eighteen.” Pronounced Feb-you-wary.

“Your memory is very precise,” I said.

“It was the day after her sixteenth birthday. I give her a regulation Army backpack that year, the kind with lots of zippers and compartments. Thought maybe we’d go fishing together.”

“You haven’t seen or heard from her since?”

“She was sixteen.” Defensive. “State of Tennessee says that’s old enough to get married. She didn’t want to be here, what was I gonna do?”

“How did Harmony get around?” Vislosky asked.

France waggled an upraised thumb to indicate hitchhiking.

Vislosky’s eyes dropped to her hands. I saw the tension in her neck and shoulders. Despite her distaste for France, I knew the anguish she was feeling at what she was about to say.

A subtle squaring of the broad shoulders, then, “I’m afraid I may have bad news.”

France continued stroking Axel’s back.

“A girl was found dead in Charleston, South Carolina, last month.” Choosing her words ever so carefully. “We have reason to believe that girl may be your granddaughter.”

France remained impassive, not understanding, or not certain how to reply.

“The victim was in her mid-teens and had short, dark hair dyed pink. She stood between five-one and five-two.”

France’s right lower lid began kicking again. “She OD on something?”