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“All we’ve found so far,” Rounds said as the sun beat down, and Reed felt himself sweating.
“It’s not Rose Duval,” Delacroix said, rocking back on her heels and shaking her head. “But some other kid.”
Rounds asked, “How do you know?”
“Size,” she said, and Reed agreed. The skeleton would be too large for a five-year-old. “And she was too young to have lost her baby teeth. This one has adult-size incisors.”
“Unless she was brought here later,” Reed hypothesized. “The killer could have kept her a few years, then returned her here.”
“Unlikely.” Delacroix straightened and kept her voice low. “He already had a spot picked out for her,” she said, reminding him of the space for a third body at the Beaumont estate. “Why leave her here?”
Mentos’s Adam’s apple wobbled. “You think there were more?”
“Victims?” Delacroix asked.
“Yeah.” Mentos nodded and licked his lips. “Like more than those poor girls?”
“Unknown,” Reed said.
“Could be unrelated,” Delacroix said. “Why don’t you come down to the station and make a full statement?”
“I thought I just did.” Mentos looked from one cop to the other.
Delacroix offered a hard grin. “I know. Thank you. But there’s some red tape involved. Not much, but you know, this way it’s official.”
Mentos turned his eyes on Reed, as if looking for confirmation.
Reed backed up his partner. “You heard the detective,” he said. “Best way to wrap up your part.”
Mentos gave a short nod, as if he’d just won an argument with himself. “Okay, then. I will.” He glanced down at the bones now exposed to the harsh afternoon light. “I just hope this was an accident of some kind. That there ain’t some psycho out there pickin’ on kids.”
“You and me both,” Reed agreed. “You and me both.”
CHAPTER 18
It was after three when Nikki finally hit the road to drive to Tybee Island. Since her meeting with Brit Sully, she’d attended back-to-back appointments with her physicians. The first had been with an orthopedic surgeon, who had been satisfied with her shoulder.
“Healing nicely,” he’d said, and when she’d asked if she could ditch her sling, he’d told her she didn’t have to wear it twenty-four /seven, but not to overdo it and start by easing out of it a couple of hours a day.
She had. It was now on the passenger seat next to her.
She rotated her shoulder as she drove through the city. It felt fine. A little tight maybe, but no real pain. Nothing serious.
She guided her Honda into the thin stream of traffic heading across the Talmadge Memorial Bridge to the island.
Her second doctor’s appointment, with her OB/GYN, had been good news as well. Dr. Kasey had informed her that physically she was fine, that everything checked out normally after an exam.
“I know it’s hard and there is bound to be a lingering sadness and sense of loss. You’ve been down this road before and there are support groups you can join,” she advised.
“I have.” The truth was she was still part of an online group of families who had survived miscarriage and early child loss and she would reach out to them again. She’d even made a couple of friends through the connection, but Reed hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Preferred to bury his loss deep in his soul and not discuss it.
“Good, so when you and your husband are ready, there’s no physical reason you can’t try again,” the doctor had said once Nikki had dressed and was seated across the cluttered desk in the small office tucked inside the clinic. “It’s the emotional and mental part that concerns me.”
“I’ll be okay,” Nikki had said, meeting her doctor’s gaze. “Been here before.”
Her doctor’s eyes had been kind and understanding and she’d offered Nikki a small smile. “Good. But it doesn’t hurt to talk to someone if you need to. A counselor. Someone who deals in loss and grief.”
“Got it.” She nodded. “If I do, I will.” And she meant it.
