Nine
Years ago, I had a very loud doorbell that sounded like Gothic church bells.
Ondine had told me, on a number of occasions, that the sound reminded her of the Inquisition, a time she did not care to be reminded of.
Hard to argue that with her. Teague had said that as the church had never been fond of the fae, he wasn’t a fan of the resonant tolling of the bells either.
So I’d changed them, of course. Didn’t want people in my life, under my roof, traumatized.
I had updated the chimes many times over the years, and now, like many people, I had a whole security system.
When the bell rang, a small monitor on the wall above my nightstand showed the interior of the whole house, and with the push of a few buttons, I could see a beautiful three-sixty view of the back door and the front.
When the bell rang, I untangled myself from Cole, which I didn’t really want to do, got up, and checked to see who was outside.
“Why are you up?” Cole whined, which I found adorable. “Come back here. I’m cold now, and I don’t wanna be cold.”
There was no possible way he was cold under that mound of blankets and with the fire going in the far corner of the room.
“We have company,” I informed him before turning to leave the room.
“No,” he barked.
When I turned back to look at him, he was sitting up, rubbing one eye and scowling at me with the other. “Clothes first, then you can go see who it is.”
Sleep shorts and a T-shirt seemed reasonable to wear to the door to let our visitors in out of the cold, but apparently not. “I can see three troopers from the West Virginia State Police, and two women in suits and trenchcoats.”
“So, cops. Got it.” He threw the covers off and rolled out of bed. He was also wearing sleep shorts, but unlike me, he wasn’t wearing a T-shirt, so his wide chest was bare. “But they can wait until we’re both covered. Tell them through your fancy system that we’ll be right there.”
“I hope that didn’t wake up Evan,” I said worriedly after I spoke to the law enforcement on my porch.
He scoffed. “Wake up Evan. You’re funny.”
I smiled at him. “You’re saying the kid can sleep through a tornado?”
“And me standing over him and yelling at him to get his ass up. Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“I find that endearing.”
“You won’t when you’re trying to get his ass to school on time.”
He went first to a basket on the floor, pulled off the sleep shorts, yanked on a pair of briefs, then went to the closet for cargo pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a heavy shawl-collar cardigan. He also put on thick wool socks. When he turned to me, he scowled.
“What?”
“Why aren’t you getting dressed?” he asked after a moment.
“I like that sweater.”
He grinned lazily as he walked over and wrapped me in his arms. “It’s old, but if you like it, it’s yours.”
“I like looking at you in it,” I murmured, a bit overwhelmed on this Tuesday morning by what I’d found. It was crazy. There I’d been, living a little life in a tiny place in the wide world, and now all at once, here he was.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m just…thankful.”
“Me too,” he said hoarsely, clutching me tight. “Now put on clothes. It’s gotta be freezing out there.”
I chuckled, and he let me go, to dart to the bathroom.
“You should brush your teeth while you’re in there,” I called.
“Hell no,” he grumbled. “They’re waking me up, they get morning breath.”
I was smiling as I got dressed.
Cole answered the door while I called Paris and told her I wouldn’t be in because I needed to take a personal day.
“You do? You?” She sounded as though she didn’t believe me.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m telling you now, all of us—and I speak for your entire staff when I say this—will need a full report about needing a personal day and what has changed for you.”
“I don’t think questioning me about my personal life falls within HR guidelines.”
“Well, it’s certainly lucky we don’t have any HR anything, then.”
“I think we should. Don’t you think we should?”
She was quiet a moment. “I’ve worked here for ten years and we’ve never had an issue, so I’m gonna say we just don’t worry about it, and furthermore, when you come into work tomorrow, we’re going to expect all the details.”
“Killing me.”
“Just say yes or I’m driving to your house.”
I groaned. “Yes. Fine.”
She was cackling when she hung up.
I realized as I stood there and stared at my cell phone that for a powerful primordial being, no one I knew was scared of me in the least. That was probably a good thing.
Thinking we were going to need coffee, I got busy in the kitchen making some.
I used the blend with chicory because it was really good on cold, rainy mornings.
Cole was still talking to everyone on the doorstep, giving me time to pull down an assortment of mugs, since nothing of mine matched.
The Bower got all the pieces that came out of the kiln perfectly shaped and glazed.
The experiments, the ones where something had dripped or a color came out just funky, those lived with me in a wide variety of shapes and sizes.
When I finally turned, I was surprised to find Abel, Narah, and Justin in my living room as well as the police officers.
“Good morning, Mr. Baker,” the younger of the two women said, striding over to me with her hand out. Her black hair and dark brown eyes were quite striking. “I’m Detective Rosario Fuentes, I’m a homicide detective from Manhattan, and this is my partner, Yolanda Washington.”
“Good to meet you.” I took her hand and then her partner’s. “How do you two like your coffee?”
“Milk, no sugar for me,” Fuentes said, smiling, not doing the thing law enforcement did sometimes where they turned down a warm beverage on a cold day. “And milk and cinnamon for my partner.”
“Absolutely. Would you like to sit in here or over by the fire?”
“By the fire, please.” Washington smiled at me as well before making a beeline for the sectional.
“Mere—” Cole gestured at the troopers. “—this is captain Nolan Soames of the West Virginia State Police, and troopers Dom Sorvino and Blake Fulton.”
“Good morning,” I greeted them. “Would you like coffee?”
“Please,” Soames said quickly. “That would be great.”
I set up a little area on the island in the kitchen with creamer and sugar, then carried the mugs over to the detectives already seated.
“This is a gorgeous mug.” Fuentes lifted it up so she could see the bottom.
“It’s mine,” I told her. “I mean, I made it. That’s my potter’s mark.”
“It’s got a great weight to it.”
“That’s high praise,” Washington told me. “She’s very picky about her drinkware.”
I smiled as I sat down near them, and Cole and the others joined us. He had brought me a mug with cream only, which I appreciated.
Fuentes straightened up and looked at Cole with her dark brown eyes. “Mr. Swann—”
“That’ll get confusing fast,” he told her. “Please just call me Cole.”
“Cole,” she repeated. “As your uncle, Abel Swann, is the contact on record who was given the death notification when your father died in a car accident, we wanted to include him. We appreciate you allowing him and his wife and your cousin to be here, as it saves us time.”
“Of course.”
“We went to their home first this morning, since that’s the address we had on file for you. We were told when we arrived that you and your brother are staying here.”
“That’s incorrect,” Cole told her. “We live here.”
“Okay, I’ll make a note of that in the file.”
“Perfect. Now please tell us whose remains were buried on my uncle’s land.”
Washington looked at Cole with her lovely hazel eyes and took a deep breath. “Apparently, the bones your uncle had on his property are those of your father, Anson Swann, and were disinterred from Holy Oaks Cemetery in Woodside, New York, without authorization.”
“Someone stole my father’s bones and buried them here?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“How did no one notice a grave being dug up?” Cole asked her.
“We’ve been in touch with the cemetery staff, and unfortunately, no one saw anything. The grave itself appeared undisturbed when it was checked on.”
Cole nodded.
“If the bones weren’t currently sitting in the chief medical examiner’s office in Charleston, no one would have believed the bones had been moved.
As it stands, once the bones are finished being completely examined, they will be released to you, and you can make arrangements for them to be reinterred.
Since your father’s grave is next to your mother’s, I assume you’ll want them to go back to Holy Oaks. ”
“I will.”
She looked at Fuentes, who immediately pulled a tablet from the laptop bag on the couch beside her, powered it up, and began to type. Washington then returned her gaze to Cole. “What’s the best email for you so we can pass the information on to the cemetery director?”
Once Cole had given it to her, he asked the question I already knew the answer to. “Why do you think someone dug up my father’s bones, Detective?”
She cleared her throat, then took another sip of her coffee.
“At this time, the examination is ongoing. We have a holiday on Thursday, and several staff members are taking Friday off as well, but we expect that all the findings will be concluded and put into a final report by the beginning of next week.”
“You must have some preliminary information and a theory about the crime.”
“We do. We believe that whoever removed the bones wanted the facts of your father’s death to be made public.”
“And what are they?”
“The medical examiner in Charleston concluded that there were several perimortem fractures to the back of your father’s neck and spine. They were made with a lot of force, leaving deep cuts on the bones.”
“So the ME thinks what?”
“She’s not finished with her—”
“But he was murdered.”
After a moment, Washington nodded. “Yes.”
“Which was done by literally stabbing him in the back.”
“That’s correct. She suggested that the attacker used a single weapon; a blade about eight inches long.”