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“That’s…” Henry peers closer. “Was that—”
“That was mine.” Hillary reaches out as though to stroke the delicate chain. “It’s been so long since I last saw that heart.”
“You placed it on Holly’s casket?” Fletch asks.
“So long,” she repeats on a sniffle. “I forgot, I… Yes, on the day of Holly’s funeral, I placed my locket with her to keep.”
“Why? You didn’t want it for yourself?”
“No, they were best friend charms. I’m sure your…” Swallowing, she lifts her chin toward the tent. “The people with Holly now, they’ll find a second chain that matches the one in this picture. Not exactly the same,” she clarifies quickly, “but they match. Holly was wearing hers when she was buried, so I gave her mine too. So she could keep us together even when she was out here alone.”
“You were friends for a long time?” Fletch asks. “Since childhood?”
“Since third grade,” she hiccups. “I was new to the school. My family and I had just moved to Copeland City after my father was transferred for work. On my first day, these older kids were picking on me on the playground. They’d knocked me down and broke my glasses.” She reaches up as though to adjust a pair, but she doesn’t wear glasses today. “They hurt me, and I was too weak to get up. But Holly helped me.”
Fat tears roll along Hillary’s cheeks and down to wobble on the edge of her jaw. “She was so fearless. So kind. She didn’t have to help me that day, and she risked ostracization from her school friends for rescuing the nerdy new girl, but she didn’t care.”
“She was brave,” I murmur. Then I look to Henry and remember the way he described her the first time we talked. “She was a staunch activist and voice for those who needed it. If she saw you struggling, she wouldn’t have been able to stay away.”
Devastated, the older woman cuddles into Henry’s chest. “She was perfect, Detectives. She was beautiful, she was courageous. She and her sister were closer than any other siblings I’d ever met. She was smart. She was funny. And later, she was marrying the man of her dreams, renovating the home most would dream of, and in their blissful happiness, they were readying to make a family.”
Glancing up, she meets my eyes. “She was blessed, Detective Malone, and I was the poor, intellectually lacking, slightly chunky, ugly duckling who later became the best friend.” A soft snicker escapes her throat. “I never knew what she saw in me, but her friendship was a gift.”
“And so, on the day of her funeral, you thought to gift her your necklace?” Fletch surmises. “So she could keep you together?”
“Yes.” Blowing her nose into her tissue, she looks down and blinks away the tears in her eyes. “It was the only gift I could think to give her.”
“Alright.” With Minka in my peripherals, I nod and take a step back from the couple. “We have to go, but we’ll be around for a couple hours more. If you think of anything else that might help, you know where to find us.”
Turning on our heels, Fletch and I make our way back toward the tent, but I glance up and notice the stars, and realize night has already come. “Is Mia with the nanny?”
“Yeah.” He keeps his voice down as we pass a pair of uniforms. “It’s working out so far.”
“Pennnellllope.” I play with her name on my tongue, the name he’s already told me. “Penelope Reorden.” Bringing my eyes down again, I look across to him. “She treating Mia well?”
“Penny,” he says with a smile. “And yeah, they’re getting along really well. She taught Moo how to tie her laces on Monday.”
“No shit? She’s only three years old.” A soft chuckle works along my throat. “I didn’t tie my laces till I was, like, twelve.”
At that, Fletch barks out a laugh. “You set the bar low, brother.”
Stopping in front of Minka, he smirks. “Delicious. I enjoy spending time with you under the stars.”
“Mmhm.” Serious—too serious—she turns and heads back into the tent. “We’ve uncovered most of Holly’s remains. We’ve bagged, tagged, and catalogued, and will recreate her skeleton once we’re in-house. But I have something to show you.”
“Is it an extra necklace?” Fletch volunteers, following her through to her dig with a bop to his step. “Because Hillary Wade just told us they had matching necklaces, those BFF types. Holly was buried with hers on, apparently. Hillary gave hers back on the day of the funeral so they could be together forever.”
“A romantic notion.” Stopping by her pile of bagged bones, Minka grabs several and offers them to us. “Left femur,” she points at the bag in my hand. Then to the one Fletch studies. “Right femur. Radius.” She lifts another. “Pelvis.”
“Err…” Frowning, I turn my bag over, over, over, and try to process the doctor’s words. “And just so we’re clear, the femur is,” I point down at my thigh. “Largest bone in the human body, right?”
“Right. The average femur length in an adult woman is between seventeen and eighteen inches long. Holly falls neatly into that range.”
I turn my bag once more. “So why is this one,” I open my fingers to create length between my thumb and forefinger. “About one inch?”
“Because she was pregnant.” Aubree boosts herself out of the hole behind Minka. Dirt on her coveralls, more on her face. “We have two skulls, two pelvises, four arms, four legs.” Stopping beside her boss, she rubs her hands together to dislodge any dust before setting them on her hips. “Holly Wade was between three and six months pregnant when she died.”
“Testing will give us a more accurate gestation,” Minka adds. “But right here,” she hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “while we’re still working in the dirt, all we can do is confirm, without a shadow of doubt, Holly Wade was expecting a child.”
