Page 60 of The Bone Code

Infuriated at the brush-off, I’d phoned Ryan. He’d explained that Trout, newly assigned to the Crimes contre la Personne squad, had a reputation for pursuing only those matters that would enhance his career. And that cold cases typically didn’t make the cut.

Wednesday morning, recognizing that I’d probably be a “pain in the arse,” as Willoughby had tagged me, Ryan took a break from Rupert and Agnes to swing by his old digs at SQ headquarters. Trout explained that he was focused on a domestic homicide investigation and told him to do whatever he wanted with regard to the Saint-Anicet vics. Ryan didn’t really need Trout’s approval. Though retired, he still had pull.

Since I had paperwork to complete and needed access to materials at the LSJML, we rode to Wilfrid-Derome together. Awaiting our separate elevators, we agreed to meet in the lobby at four thirty.

At two p.m., as I was completing a report on the farmer’s wife from Saint-Felicien, my mobile chirped. Reminding myself that I needed a new ringtone, I checked the screen.

Vislosky.

Surprised, I answered.

“Good morning, detective.”

“It’s raining like hell here.”

“I hope you’re calling with good news.”

“I may have a lead on the younger vic.” Underscored by an ambient mix similar to the one I’d heard with Ryan on Monday. Engine. Wiper blades. The AC was a new addition.

“No shit.”

“No shit. In 2017, the ER at Beaufort Memorial treated a kid for, what was that break?”

“A lateral condylar fracture of the right humerus.”

“For that. Jessica Gray Jeben. White female, DOB July 1, 2002.”

Quick math. “Age fifteen. That tracks.”

“Jeben never returned to have the cast removed. About that same time, she stopped attending school.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“The mother’s still at the same address in Yemassee.”

“Where’s Yemassee?”

“Beaufort County. I’m leaving there now. The area’s rural, and Mama’s definitely not cum laude.”

“How does she explain her daughter’s broken arm?”

“They’ve got one of those homemade rope-and-tire swings hanging from a tree in the front yard. She says the kid fell from the swing.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Who knows?”

“Has Jessica reappeared?”

“No.”

“What does she say about that?”

“The kid split with her boyfriend.”

“I don’t suppose she filed an MP report?”

“This chick couldn’t manage to file her own nails.”