Chapter Fifty-Nine
Fifty-nine
The call from the police came early on Saturday morning.
Skye was on her way across the hillside when her phone rang, and she paused to answer it.
The officer at the other end of the line had a mercifully good grasp of English and did not indulge in any small talk before coming straight to the point.
“We believe that the animal remains belong to a goat,” he said. “Not a very big one, but yes, a goat.”
Chrysí. Katerina had written an account of what had happened to her much-loved animal in the letters. Skye steeled herself, braced for a wave she couldn’t dodge.
“The other bones are human. A very young infant. A baby girl.”
Sadness settled over her, a sudden weight, stones sewn into her clothes.
“Do you know who she was?” she murmured.
“There is no DNA match on our systems here in Greece. However, we made contact with the owner of the house where the other bones were discovered to make a request for a sample. If there is a match there, we will also test the infant remains using the same DNA. They may be related.”
Unlikely but not impossible.
“Did the other bones belong to an adult?” she asked.
“Nai. The pathologist report has determined that he was a man, probably the age of forty to forty-five, something like this. There are injuries on the bones that suggest he did not die in a natural way.”
“You mean he was murdered?” Skye said, glancing up to find Theo striding toward her. The dog tags she’d given him not ten minutes previously were dangling from one hand. Having heard her question, he cocked an inquiring brow.
“There is evidence that the body was in the ground for more than eighty years,” the officer went on.
“So whoever he was, he died at some point during the war?”
“We will try to find a list of all the people who lived in the area. However, during wartime, there were many people whose homes were taken over by the occupying forces. It was a time of much chaos, a lot of death. But we will do our best to find out more.”
“What will happen to the baby’s remains?” she asked.
“If we do not manage to trace the family, we will make a public announcement. If that does not lead us to any conclusion, the bones will eventually be reburied.”
“Will you tell me?” Skye said, gripping the phone more tightly. “If there’s a funeral or anything, I’d like to be there.”
“Entáxei. Of course.” She heard the smile in the officer’s voice. “If you discover any further remains during your renovations, please inform us immediately.”
“I will,” she told him. “Thank you—I mean, efcharistó.”
“Parakaló,” he replied briskly, and the line went dead.
Skye turned to Theo.
“I feel awful,” she said. “If I’d read the letters sooner, I’d have known straightaway who was buried in my garden.”
“The police confirmed it?” Theo winced as she nodded. “Ah. Poor Katerina. But you mustn’t blame yourself. The rain did the damage. The bones would’ve come to light sooner or later.”
“That’s not all,” Skye said. “The other body, at the empty house, it has signs of an unnatural death.”
“Another murder?” Theo blew air into his cheeks.
“I’m not sure the Italian who tried to kill Katerina was murdered,” Skye said. “In the letter, she says he fell, hit his head. It was an accident.”
“OK.” Theo rubbed his temple. “And they didn’t bury him, did they?”
Skye shook her head slowly.
‘‘‘We gave him to the sea’ is how it’s worded in the letters.”
Theo passed her the dog tags.
“I found him,” he said, sliding a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
Skye raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. It wasn’t yet nine, but the heat felt absolute, pressing down from above, rising up from the ground beneath her feet. She’d forgotten to put on sunscreen, and her skin prickled, tight and raw, as if the air itself were sandpaper.
Theo cleared his throat.
“Giulio Muti, born 1916 in Comacchio, Emilia Romagna, Italy.”
Frowning, Skye did the math.
“That would make him, what, twenty-four or twenty-five when the war reached Greece?”
“Sounds right to me,” Theo agreed.
“Well, that one hundred percent rules him out as being the body buried in the garden. The police just told me that man was likely in his midforties.”
Theo nodded sagely.
“That makes sense,” he said, refocusing on the lines of text.
“Giulio joined the army and became part of the 50th Infantry Division, Regina, detachments from which were stationed across the Cyclades Islands during the occupation, between 1941 and 1943. He died in December 1941, and the cause of death is stated as drowning. Katerina might’ve given him to the sea… ”
“But the sea gave him back.” Skye ran her forefinger over the tags. “Perhaps that has something to do with why all these houses were abandoned? The Italians must have asked questions. It might have been enough to scare them into fleeing.”
“Another mystery,” Theo said, not unhappily.
“We should tell the police,” Skye said. “They want to track down whoever last owned the empty house and test the baby’s DNA against them. But we know whose baby it is. It feels important that she be reburied.”
Theo gave a small, measured nod.
“Reburied here?”
“No.” Skye thought for a moment. “There’s a cemetery, isn’t there, close to Chora?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“How likely do you think it is that Leni was buried there?”
The corners of Theo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“You think the baby should be laid to rest with her?”
“I do,” Skye said. “I think Katerina would have liked that.”
“I wonder if she ever found Stefanos,” Theo said.
Skye glanced up. Two birds had swooped in low across the hillside, the tips of their wings stretched out as if yearning to touch each other.
They rode on the current of the wind, dipping and diving, heading out together across the wide expanse of sea.
She could not tear her eyes away, watching until they were little more than dark smudges against the glittering blue.
“My head tells me no,” she said. “But my heart…”
Dust rose from the road. A truck came into view.
Skye jolted. Her skin tingling as a thousand volts of anticipation hurtled through her.
She had asked her dad once. They’d been at Neist Point, on the Isle of Skye, sitting together below the looming lighthouse. Rods in hand, a thermos of cocoa between them.
“How did you know that you were in love with Mum?”
Cosmo MacKinnon gave her a sideways look.
“That’s a big question for a wee lass.”
“Fifteen isn’t wee,” she replied. “You’re never too young for love, remember?”
“Aye,” he agreed. “The more you can get of the stuff, the happier you’ll be.”
“But how do you know when it’s real?” she pressed.
He tilted his head, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“It’ll feel like a door swinging open. One that’s always been there, only locked. When you step through, there’s no going back. But that’s all right. Because it’s warm in there. It’s safe. It’s home.”
And that was it.
When Skye was with Andreas, that’s exactly how she felt.
Like she’d stepped through.
Like she’d finally come home.