Chapter Forty-Four
Forty-four
Skye arrived back in Ano Meria as the day dipped toward evening. The light had grown mellow, heat loosening its grip.
Her neighbors were assembled in a small huddle on the hillside. Joy hurried over to greet her, a flood of questions pouring from her lips.
“I met your mum”; “I can’t believe Martyn’s here”; “Where is he?”; “Bloody hell”; “Are you OK?”; “Has he hurt you?”; “Where’s Andreas?”
Skye held up a hand to silence her.
“Sorry,” Joy babbled. “I was on my way to look for you earlier when Andreas rolled up. He’d just got the alert, and we didn’t have time to reach your place before the earthquake started.”
“There was an accident at the port,” Skye told her. “One of Andreas’s friends was killed.”
Joy’s features clouded with sympathy.
“And Martyn is still in Chora. I told him to check in to a hotel.”
“You did?” Joy brightened. “Good on you, chook. I’m proud of you.”
“He was pretty pissed off,” Skye admitted. “But Martyn doesn’t give up. He’s not going to back off until he gets what he came for.”
“And what’s that?” Joy asked, but Skye didn’t get a chance to answer.
The others were walking toward them. Victoria, still in her blue dress, and Adam, with his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a livid sunburn.
Louisa stood pale and stiff, her arms wrapped around her middle.
Beside her, Dusty bristled in her cement-spattered combat boots, fists clenched and eyes blazing.
Theo rubbed at his temple, shoulders tense.
George, by contrast, lit up the moment he saw Skye, bouncing from foot to foot and grinning like the proverbial cat.
“Where’s Mia?” Skye asked.
Dusty and Louisa exchanged a strained look.
“She’s with Bruno at the clinic,” Dusty said.
“Daft old thing was taking a snooze in the front yard when the quake hit and didn’t so much as stir, not until part of the wall came down on him.
He should be fine,” she added. “Mia reckons it’s a dislocation rather than a break, but she’s not sure, and—” She broke off as Louisa let out a sob.
“Sorry.” Louisa flapped her hand in front of her face. “Ignore me. It’s just that Bruno was our mum’s dog, and if anything were to happen to him…”
“He’s in the best hands,” Joy said soothingly, patting Louisa on the back.
“Has anyone seen Tigri?” Skye asked. “He was around earlier but ran away when—before the earthquake.”
“Cats are resilient,” Joy said, cursing as she attempted to untangle her sunglasses from her windswept hair.
“He probably knew what was coming earlier than we did,” Victoria said. “He’ll show up soon enough.”
Skye smiled distractedly. Another figure was approaching, her pace smooth, unhurried.
She was still wearing the cream slacks and wide-brimmed straw hat she’d arrived in.
Victoria turned, smiled widely.
“Oh, hey, Cassandra,” she said.
Her mother’s expression remained carefully neutral.
“Hello, everyone,” she said, looking at each of the group in turn.
Skye made rapid, muttered introductions.
“What have you done with Martyn?” Cassandra asked.
“He decided to move to a hotel.”
“Who the hell is Martyn?” Dusty asked, glancing at Theo, who shrugged.
“Mum, you must be starving,” Skye said, her cheeks flaring. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
They made it fewer than ten yards before George shot past them at speed, pursued by Theo.
“I just saw him, Dad. He’s over here!”
“The cat,” Theo called as he passed them. “We have been looking for him.”
They were heading straight toward the only house on the hillside yet to be claimed.
“If those two are going in there for a snoop, then so am I,” Joy exclaimed.
Dusty, Adam, and Louisa murmured their agreement, but Victoria stood apart from them, her arms folded.
“Wait a sec, guys,” she said. “We don’t know that it’s safe. We should wait for Andreas.”
“I vote we risk it,” Joy said. “Dusty here can take charge, let us know if anything is on the verge of collapse over there.”
Skye hesitated. There was something undeniably enticing about the empty house.
Not even Andreas had been granted access to it yet.
She had already crept around its perimeter on several occasions, trying in vain to peer through the boarded windows.
Both the front and back doors were padlocked, so it was unlikely that Tigri had managed to get inside.
“You don’t have to come,” she said to her mother.
“What, and miss all the fun?” Her brows lifted slightly. “What was it your father used to say? ‘Nae chance, lassie.’ ”
The sweetness of the remark disarmed Skye, and she managed only a nod. The two of them fell into step behind the others.
“I might run back for my camera,” Adam said.
“Why don’t you just get the damn thing surgically attached?” Victoria said snippily.
“Oh dear,” Cassandra said in an undertone to Skye. “I see it isn’t only the earthquake causing cracks to appear today…”
“Mum,” Skye hissed, increasing her pace. “They’ll hear you.”
“I’m only saying what I see.”
It was one of her go-to lines. Skye had grown up hearing it on repeat.
“Your mam’s only a nitpicker because she cares,” her dad would say. Skye disagreed. The cruel-to-be-kind persona her mother had cultivated had always baffled her. Why, if you truly cared about someone, would you go out of your way to tear them down? It made no sense.
They reached the empty house and paused outside.
It was a single story, with dirt-streaked once-white walls.
Two front windows were set between the entrance and a built-in nook, where a pile of rotten logs was stacked.
Unlike the other dwellings on the hillside, there was also a terrace area with open sides and a wood-paneled roof that had long since been eroded by the elements.
Joy tried the front door.
“Locked,” she said over the rattle of the padlock.
“We’re back here,” Theo called, sticking his head around the side of the house. “You’re not going to believe what we’ve found.”
Dusty went first. Skye picked her way around cracked pots and shrubbery, offering her mum a hand as they scaled the low wall that encircled the rear garden.
There was Tigri, nonchalantly washing himself in the shade of a fallen lime tree.
A large hole had opened up below the exposed roots, and George was peering into it, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“The earthquake must have felled it,” Theo said. “It was still standing the last time I came this way.”
“What’s down there?” Louisa asked. Skye had a feeling she already knew. Another grave, it had to be. She took a moment to prepare herself, though her mother had no such qualms. Crouching beside George, Cassandra let out a low whistle.
“Definitely human,” she said with authority. “And looks to be intact.”
“No way!” Adam tripped in his haste to take a photo, and Skye hurried out of shot.
Not that it mattered much anymore.
“We’d better call the police,” Louisa said, though she made no move to do so.
“I’ll do it then, shall I?” Victoria said, stalking off in the direction of the house.
“Dad,” George piped up, “when the police have finished looking at the skeleton, do you think they’ll let us keep the skull?”
Theo took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.
“Probably not,” he said evenly. “I don’t think you should get your hopes up on that one.”
Skye moved closer to the grave. What was it Andreas had told her?
That a body should be buried with its feet facing east?
Taking out her phone, she switched on the compass function, moving until the dial was pointing in the right direction.
That was strange. This person, whoever it was, had been positioned facing not east but northwest. She didn’t pause.
Her thumb hovered for only a second before it tapped Andreas’s name.
He should know about this, be kept in the loop.
But Andreas didn’t answer. She hung up before the voicemail could finish, stowing her phone as Victoria rejoined the group.
“The cops can’t be here until tomorrow,” she said. “They told me to make sure the grave is covered up and that nobody should touch the bones.”
“Fine by me,” Dusty said. She already had her hands in her pockets.
“We can use the old tarp at mine,” Skye said. “I’ll go and fetch it.”
Nobody had gone into the house while she was in Chora. The kitchen was still a disaster area, the blood-stained cushion abandoned on the floor where Martyn had fallen.
Instead of going straight into the garden, Skye went upstairs and was immediately confronted by a pile of rubble. The hollow where part of the landing wall had fallen in was a little above head height. Skye stood on her tiptoes and felt around inside.
There was something there. More letters, perhaps?
She stretched farther, her fingers closing around a small, lightweight bundle.
It came free easily. The pouch was made from coarse sackcloth, its top tightly cinched with twine.
Hands clumsy with anticipation, Skye worked at the knot, then slowly eased it open, tipping the contents into her other hand.
There were two items: a gold cross pendant on a fine chain and a slim, rectangular metal tag, around the size of a matchbox.
Skye squinted at the inscription. There was a series of numbers, below which was punched a name: MUTI, GIULIO. Not German, like the swastika-stamped medal, but Italian. Dog tags. Could both have belonged to an occupying soldier? And if so, why had they been hidden here, sealed inside her wall?
Her phone began to vibrate. Skye slipped the items back into their pouch, her heart lifting as she saw Andreas’s name.
“You called me,” he said.
“I did,” she agreed. “I probably shouldn’t have. I know you’re busy.”
“I am with the police.”
“Oh. Is everything— Are you all right?”
“It is not the best time to talk now,” he said. “But you are well?”
“I’m fine,” she said, the words sounding empty. “How about you—are you OK?”
“éla, I have to go.”
“Of course. Sorry, I—”
But Andreas had already hung up.