Page 26 of The Bone Code

Ryan either missed that or chose to ignore it. “Where are you now?”

“At IOP. With Anne.”

Silence.

“Anne Turnip?” I prompted. “My forever best friend?”

“The one with the legs tha—”

“Yes. She had some damage to her beach house and asked for my help.”

“Anything major?”

“No. The storm hit pretty far south of Charleston, not a biggie, then moved offshore.”

“Is the annex OK?”

“Unscathed. Still enjoying Yellowknife?”

“I discovered a place called Bullocks Bistro. It’s on Ragged Ass Road. I may move here.”

“Hm.”

“There’s a polar bear in the airport terminal.”

“Alive?”

“Stuffed.”

“Probably died waiting for baggage.”

“It’s Yellowknife.”

I stifled a yawn.

“Am I keeping you up?” Ryan asked.

“Not very well. It was a long day.”

“Spent in a morgue.”

I should have known. Ryan misses nothing. I told him the whole story: the container, the wrappings, the vics, the severed fingers, the gunshot wounds to the head. He listened without interrupting.

There was a pause when I’d finished. Then Ryan said, sounding more cop than lover, “You’re thinking about the case back in 2006.”

“Yes.” Suddenly wide awake. “You see the parallels, too?”

“Could be coincidence.”

“My gut’s telling me different.”

“South Carolina is a long way from Quebec.” Precisely the same reaction as Anne.

“Those vics never got the attention they deserved.”

“Whoa.”

“Not because of you, of course.” Jesus. Fatigue was making me say all the wrong things. “Your team did everything possible. But coming on the heels of the Shedden massacre and the guy found torched in his car, everyone was freaked by a potential flare-up with the Angels.”