Indelible

"Why would he do that?"

"Good question," Sara said. "I've been looking at the bones all day."

"And?"

"Her cranial sutures haven't fully closed." Sara leaned against the table, looking at the girl, wondering what had brought her short life to such a tragic end. "The knobbed ends of her long bones haven't completely fused, either."

"Which means?"

"She was probably in her late teens or early twenties."

Cathy was silent, then, "Her poor mother."

"I put in a call to the sheriff to ask if there are any open missing persons."

"And?"

"I haven't heard back from him. I haven't heard from anyone all day, as a matter of fact." Even Deacon White had barely spoken to her when she had returned with the skeleton. Sara added, "In a town this small, I don't imagine there's a long list of missing people."

"Do you think it's recent?"

"Recent as in ten, maybe fifteen years," Sara guessed. "I've been working on putting the skeleton together for the last five hours. I think I know what happened to her."

"Did she suffer?"

"No," Sara lied, hoping she sounded convincing. "I don't know what's going to happen next. I'm not sure we'll be able to come home tomorrow."

"You're going to stay with Jeffrey, then?"

Sara bit her bottom lip. She had gotten this far and decided that she might as well continue. "It seems like the more people say bad things about him, the more I want to…"

"Take care of him?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Defend him?"

"Mama…" Sara began, her voice trailing off. "I don't know," she said, and that was the truth. "It bothers me that you're so set against us." She paused, thinking of her father. "It bothers me that Daddy hates him so much."

"I remember," Cathy said, "back when you were four or five."

Sara pressed her lips together, waiting for the lecture.

"We were all down at the Gulf, and your father took you fishing just to get away, the two of you. Do you remember?"

"No," Sara said, though she had seen the pictures often enough to think she did.

"You were fishing with rubber worms, but the crabs kept coming along and clamping onto them, thinking it was food." She laughed. "I heard your daddy screaming and cussing up a storm, yelling at the crabs to let go, that they were just holding on to worthless nothing." She waited a beat, probably to make sure Sara understood. "He tried everything to get them to let go. He even beat them with a hammer, but their claws just kept clamped down on the line no matter what he did. He finally ended up cutting bait and letting them go."

Sara let out a slow breath. "Am I the stubborn crab or the worthless bait?"

"You're our little girl," Cathy said. "And your father will come around. Eventually, he'll cut bait and let you go."

"What about you?"

She laughed. "I'm the hammer."

Sara knew this all too well. She told her mother, "I just know what my gut tells me."

"What's it saying?"

"That I…" She was about to say that she loved Jeffrey, but Sara could not bring herself to do it.

Cathy picked up on it anyway. "So much for your fucking around."

She could not put into words exactly what had happened in the cave, but she tried, "I don't know why, but even with all that's happened, I trust him. I feel safe with him."

"That's no small thing."

"Yes," Sara agreed. "I suppose you know me better than I think."

"I do," Cathy said, giving a resigned sigh. "But I should trust you more."

Sara said nothing.

"I can't protect you from everything in the world."

"I don't need you to," Sara told her. "I may want you to, but I don't need you to." To soften her words, she added, "But I love you for being there."

"I love you, too, baby."

Sara let out her own sigh, feeling everything catch up with her. Usually, when things got bad she wanted nothing more than to sit in her mother's kitchen and listen to her talk. Cathy had been her touch-stone for as long as Sara could remember. Now all she wanted to do was to fall asleep with her head on Jeffrey's shoulder. The transition was startling. She had never felt this way about a man in her life. Even with Steve Ma

Sara said, "I need to go, Mama. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Take care," Cathy said. "I'll save some cupcakes for you."

Sara waited until her mother had hung up the phone. She went to do the same, but there was a noise on the line – someone breathing – then a second click.

Someone had been listening in on the conversation.

Sara went to the door and looked out the window into the hallway. The lights had been turned off hours ago when Deacon White had gone home. She knew there was an intern named Harold who lived in an apartment over the garage, but she was told that after hours he pretty much kept to himself unless he was called to transport a body.

She picked up the phone again and pressed the button marked "Apt."

There were six rings before the man picked up with a bleary-sounding "Hello?"

"Harold?"

"Uhn," he grunted, and she heard him moving around. Obviously she had awakened him. He repeated, "Hello?"

"Were you just on the phone?"

"What?"

Sara tried again. "This is Sara Linton. I'm in the building."

"Oh…right…" he managed. "Mr. White said you were staying late." He paused and she guessed from the sound he was yawning. "I'm sorry," he said, then under his breath, "Jeesh."

Sara stretched the phone cord so she could see through the window again. A car turned into the parking lot and a pair of headlights lit up the hallway. She shielded her eyes, trying to see who it was. The car had pulled into the handicap space next to her BMW, lights on high beams.

Harold sounded irritated. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry," Sara apologized. "I wanted to leave and -"

"Oh, right," he said. "I'll come lock you out."

"No, I -" she tried, but he had already hung up.

Sara looked into the hallway again, narrowing her eyes past the bright headlights, trying to see if anyone came to the door. A few minutes passed before a figure cut the glare. Harold stood in the middle of the hall, shielding his eyes as Sara had done. He was dressed in his pajamas and had his mouth open in a wide yawn when Sara joined him.

"Who the heck is that?" Harold asked, walking to the front door.

"I was -" She stopped. The car was a truck, and she could see Jeffrey climbing out of the driver's seat. He had the radio blaring with some country music station, and she suppressed a curse, telling the intern, "Thank you for letting me out."

"Yeah," he said, giving another yawn that was so wide Sara could see his back molars. He twisted the lock and opened the door.

Sara started to leave, but could not help but ask the intern, "Is there anyone else in the building?"

Harold looked over his shoulder. "Nobody breathing." He yawned again, one yawn too many, and Sara wondered if he had really been sleeping when she called.

She opened her mouth to question him, but he tossed her a wave as he locked the glass door, giving another yawn for her benefit.

Sara could smell Jeffrey from ten feet away; it was like walking past a brewery. Even without the overwhelming stench of beer, he was weaving as he walked toward her. Sara was slightly taken aback. She had not considered Jeffrey a teetotaler, but neither had she ever seen him drink more than a glass of wine or an occasional beer. Knowing what she did about his mother, this made sense, and the fact that he had chosen tonight to get drunk sent up warning signals Sara did not quite know how to read.