The bone visited the poorhouse. It saw a solitary truck, winding up a road. It saw a man. It saw many men—spread like pepper on the ground. They went on and on and on.
The bone saw Ruby, sleeping that first night on the couch. It watched her during those awful days in foster care, with Ruby walking until her knees shook, her face so bleak even those passing by could not bear to look at her. No one talked to the girl at school because she smelled like pain and grief. The families who took her in actually cared, but Ruby could not feel their love. Because it was not mother love. It was a different kind of love—it was actually the same kind of love Ruby now had for humankind, and her clients, and the missing, but she could not see that then. She was searching for a love that might never exist again. Not for her.
She gave it to you,the bone whispered to Ruby, who could not hear it.She gave it to you to keep.
It was okay, the bone told itself, floating up into the soft blued sky. It was okay because it had to be. The bone was going to keep trying to reach Ruby, because Ruby was the only one who could right this terrible wrong. The bone would find a hole in the membrane. It had been known to happen—sometimes ghosts, part of this world, reported to others just how the miracle had occurred.
It was said that sometimes the sharp edge of a bone—the voice—could break through. That was why people had learned to bury the dead. So they no longer had to hear what they had to say.
28.
Willa was up bright and early, eager to be rid of Ruby. She came down the walkway with a worried look on her face and stopped cold to find Ruby sitting on the unmade bed in room 10, the two keys in her hand.
“I’m ready,” Ruby said through the open door. She picked up her bag, and that was that.
On the ride into town, Willa glanced over, examining her face. Ruby looked serene. Whatever had happened in the night, she was not saying.
“That car place I told you about,” Willa said nervously.
“I’d like to go to the courthouse first,” Ruby said.
Willa swallowed. Ruby looked at her sympathetically. She didn’t just look sympathetic, shewassympathetic for the woman’s predicament. Willa was trapped in the same system they all were. You played along, thinking all was great. Or you woke up. Ruby didn’t blame anyone for staying asleep.
“Going to see if the police found anything?” Willa asked, too brightly.
Ruby gave a sardonic smile. “That would be the police station, not the courthouse. That’s where they beat a false confession out of Mitchell Brown. They probably have the bloodstained room immortalized. The Mitchell Brown interrogation room.” Her words were bitter, but the delivery was sweet. She smiled at Willa, letting her know she bore her no ill will. The woman was giving her a ride, which was certainly more than she needed to do.
“I’m sure they were doing their best,” Willa said.
Ruby had no reply to that. She didn’t believe in the adage that everyone was doing their best, including her. If that were true, the world would be a different place.
Willa breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled in front of the courthouse. She didn’t want to be involved. She wanted this to be over. Five more days, she thought.
“There’s no parking here. If you could just—”
“Thank you for the ride,” Ruby said.
“It would be better if you didn’t come back. To the motel, I mean.”
“I can find other lodgings,” Ruby said, grabbing her bag. She paused. “I do appreciate you, Willa.”
The woman turned away.
“Hello,” Ruby said.
Jerrod Tinsley, coming down the fine marble stairs, gave a jump. Then he looked mad. He didn’t like women having one up on him, his florid face said. He reserved that power.
Ruby stood directly below him, blocking his way. Of course, he could go around her. He thought, for one annoyed moment, that she had a way of looking much bigger than she was. His mother would have said,That girl’s as big as a minute.But she acted bigger, and this bothered him, a whole bunch.
“Excuse me,” he said, waiting for her to move.
A flicker of a smile appeared on her lips, but she did not really smile. Nor did it reach her eyes. She had an unusual look, he thought, with that pale skin and her naturally dark lips. She looked a bit like a vampire. No, he thought, more like—
“Here for more questions?” he asked.
“Not for you,” she said.
“I heard you had some trouble yesterday,” he said, almost unwillingly.
