“In light of the new evidence, the medical examiner is reconsidering your grandfather’s initial cause of death.”
“I killed them,” I blurt it out, ready to take whatever is coming to me. Oscar flinches back at my abrupt confession. I shove my wrists at him so he can lock me up instead.
He rolls this over in his head. Then his scrunched brow softens. Those tender eyes of his brush over me as if he’s regarding a child.
“Look, I know Bone feels like family to you. This isn’t going to be easy on y’all, but I promise you... I’ll make sure he’s well taken care of as we sort this all out—”
“You’re not hearing what I’m telling you. It wasn’t Bone Layer. I’m the reason they’re dead,” I say, loud enough one of the deputies looks our way.
Oscar pushes me back into the smokehouse a little farther. “Enough.” I’ve never heard him speak so harshly. “It’s not possible. It happened a long time ago, you would have been a child yourself. Don’t go stepping your way in front of this to protect Bone Layer. I said we’ll sort it out. Trust me to do my job. Jesus, how many times do I have to ask you this?”
I promised your mother I’d do anything to protect you. It’s hard enough for me to fathom Bone Layer was close enough with my mother to make such a promise, much less follow through with the vow. But that’s exactly what he’s doing right now.
“It wasn’t Bone.” My words so quiet, I’m not sure Oscar hears me. Or maybe I didn’t even speak them out loud. My head is circling, and I feel like I’m going to drop from the dizzy spin of my thoughts.
“Now listen, we’ll need your grandmother to come down to fill out some paperwork,” Oscar continues. “We have a warrant to search the entire property, so if you know where there’s poison—any type of poison at all...” Oscar pauses and raises a knowing brow. “You should tell us now.”
“Um,” I say distractedly. “There’s rat poison in the barn I think. But no, nothing else I can recall.”
More deputies flood the property, pulling barrels and boxes out of the barn. Someone squeezes past us into the one-room smokehouse, and I step out of the way. He starts to tear apart Bone Layer’s room.
“No, you can’t take that.” I grab Bone Layer’s cigar box of miniature taxidermy birds he hasn’t finished yet. It’s bad enough they have him; they can’t have his stuff, too.
Oscar nods to the deputy to let me have the box. He instructs him to give me a minute and search elsewhere.
“This is a lot to take in.” Oscar sits me down on Bone’s bed as he kneels in front of me. “Just let us do our job. When you feel more on your feet, you’ll need to drive your grandmother down to the station.”
He tells me to pack some clothes for a night or two, as we’re not allowed to stay here while they complete their search. I don’t know where we can go, since Grandmama hates Aunt Violet.
Oscar leaves me there.
Sitting on Bone Layer’s bed.
Swimming in my thoughts.
Along the inside of the rusty red armoire’s door, a full-length mirror. Gray lines from its age wrinkle over the face. Sometimes if you stare at yourself long enough, you don’t recognize the person staring back anymore.
I grab the armoire’s thin door to close it and pause. A dark shadow of a box hides under Bone’s bed. Squared edges, quietly tucked away in the recess of the corner. Nothing special about it, but a sweet hum warms my chest. It nudges me off the bed, onto my knees. I reach back until my fingers catch the corner of the box and slide it on out.
An old wooden chest. Hand-forged metal straps wrapped around it, with an unusual keyhole on the front.
For a bone-tooth key.
“Holy shit.” I run a knowing hand over it. This is the box my mother propped her foot on in that photo the sheriff showed me.
I pat where the necklace lays under my shirt and pull it out. My hand shakes as I slide the toothy bits perfectly into the hole. Energy from the magic thrums through my body as I flip my wrist with a turn, and the lid pops as it releases.
The hinges creak in protest as I tilt the lid open, and I peer down inside and find one lone item.
A tiny red suitcase.
My heart skips. I can hear my mama whispering, a twangy, insecure sound, promising to take me to see that ocean. The tiny seashell she gave me sealing that promise. Why give the suitcase to Bone Layer?
Careful to keep an eye toward the door for deputies, I reach inside and pull it out.
On the front, a cartoon image of a little blond girl in a hooded yellow cape, carrying a basket of goodies. The metal locks spring open under the pressure of my thumbs. I begin to crack open the suitcase—
The sound of footsteps growing closer to the smokehouse stops me. Quickly, I slap the metal latches shut and stand. I dart past him out the door and head straight for the pickup truck.
“Ma’am, that’s evidence,” the deputy calls to me as I’m about to slip the suitcase inside Bone Layer’s truck.
Quickly, I glance to Oscar, who’s instructing another man to search under the house.
“You said we can’t stay here tonight. Since when are my panties evidence?” I show Oscar the suitcase that isn’t much bigger than two shoeboxes. I hope like hell he was too busy to notice I didn’t get this from my room.
There’s a slight hesitation, where he might ask me to show him the contents. Fear ices over me. I glare at the deputy who’s edging up in my space a bit too close.
“Rodney, go search the smokehouse.” Oscar points where the deputy needs to get going.
I drop the suitcase into the truck bed with a defiant thud.
TWENTY
Somethin’ Terrible
Getting arrested takes a heck of a lot longer than what the movies make you believe—Hollywood can’t get nothing right.
It’s a lot of waiting around for the law to do their job. Sign this. Authorize that. Make calls to a judge who is not happy about his Sunday afternoon golf game being interrupted. Most of the day we were waiting for Bone’s arraignment and a bail to be set. Now it’s starting to get dark. If another deputy tells me, “We’re almost done,” one more time, I think I’ll crack.
