To Trust a Friend. Lynn Bulock

And if he caused himself more pain he’d lose even more control. That would probably convince this officer that he really was as impaired by alcohol as the man seemed to think Josh was. Explaining the truth would be far more difficult. The man in uniform looked as if he was just experienced enough not to accept the truth; that most of the reek of liquor on Josh was splashed on his clothes, not from drinking the stuff.

      Still, in his undercover role on this investigation he couldn’t have totally avoided a drink at the bar. He would have been more conspicuous without one than with something in front of him. So he’d had a little bit to drink, as little as possible. Still, he didn’t normally drink by choice, and the alcohol coupled with a shortage of sleep and the nagging disappointment he felt with life made for a dangerous combination.

      So instead of staying low profile undercover he’d gotten himself into a fight. Not only had he lost, but his stupidity could cost the bureau five months of hard work, and put his job in jeopardy. As he mulled this over, the officer in charge was making a call on his phone. From what Josh could hear the man had finally taken him seriously and called Ms. Gorman. The discussion was short and to the point. When the officer finished, his expression looked thoughtful.

      “Okay, so maybe you were telling the truth. At least that was convincing enough that I won’t arrest you. But if that was really your boss I don’t envy you the day you’re going to have tomorrow.” The man’s grim smile made Josh’s head throb even harder.

      He drove home carefully, using little-traveled roads and side streets even after he’d bought coffee and something to eat to counteract the alcohol in his system. Pam Gorman was going to skin him alive in the office tomorrow, and he probably deserved every bit of what she gave him. His life was spiraling downward as he watched.

      What did he do now? For a brief, flashing moment the cool, dark sanctuary of a church in Illinois flashed through his mind. The place had been far from welcoming; at least it seemed cold and remote in the memories he’d carried around for nearly a quarter century. Kneeling there in a back pew was the last time Josh remembered praying.

      “What do You want me to do?” he asked out loud into the darkness. He got no clear sense of an answer. Still, what he’d said was like a prayer. Maybe it even was a prayer. All Josh knew for sure is that he needed to talk to somebody. Here in the dark in his car talking to God sounded about as reasonable as anything else.

      “I need help. For the first time in my life I feel like I can’t make it on my own and I don’t know where to go.” Josh ran out of words at that point, and it was starting to feel strange to talk out loud in the car to someone he wasn’t sure existed. Still, it gave him an odd sense of peace and he went home wondering what would happen next.

      

      Four days after the phone call that took her out to the park, Kyra was back in her lab. Piecing together what the team had found in the flood-damaged park might take weeks. The bones were still being gently cleaned and treated, every possible hint of evidence being gleaned from them and from the scene before she would start the arduous task of trying to figure out what had happened. It could take another two or three weeks from that point just to be able to give a reasonable estimate of who the people they’d found had been. And even then, identification would be sketchy. Nothing that could have identified any particular individual easily had turned up at the site. No purses, wallets or other identification came out of the mud; only a few scraps of mostly rotted clothing. Time and the elements had been on the side of whoever had concealed these deaths.

      I could really use some help here, Lord, Kyra prayed silently as she looked at the puzzle in front of her. Already she felt a responsibility to find the answers to who these people had been in life, where they belonged. Part of that was simple: they were children of God who hadn’t deserved to be left dead or nearly dead out in a deserted field someplace. But now she would have to find out if they had enough evidence to discover if the three partial skulls they’d found belonged to the only victims. Please, she prayed, show me the way to give glory to You and dignity to these children. It was going to take an incredible amount of effort and more work than she was capable of doing alone.

      As Kyra bent over the stainless-steel lab table to examine the first few pieces of bone released to her, she was aware of someone standing behind her. “Allie?” she asked softly, not wanting to take her eyes off the task at hand.

      “Yes, Doctor…I mean, Kyra. I hate to bring you another problem, but you got an e-mail from one of the lieutenants that I think I need to read to you.” Kyra got so much e-mail each day that her assistant did some of the sorting and prioritizing. If she said this one had to be heard right now, it must be fairly urgent.

      Allie’s voice sounded small and hesitant, at odds with the young woman’s normally confident demeanor and businesslike gray slacks and pale blue oxford blouse under her white lab coat. Communication from somebody at that rank in the state police did not normally mean good news.

      “Just give me the worst of it if you want to,” Kyra said, laying out delicate hand bones and trying to determine whether they all might have come from the same person.

      “Okay. Well.” There was a pause as if Allie was scanning the message she held. “What it boils down to is that the state and the federal parks people are arguing over who should be handling this case. The land where everything was found is right on the border of the park where it meets some state property.”

      Kyra groaned. “Don’t tell me they’re going to take this away from us now.” The hardest work of recovering the evidence had already been done, and amazingly the media hadn’t caught wind of things yet. Even though she felt a little overwhelmed by the task at hand, she didn’t want to let go of the challenge just yet. Without media attention she could probably get a good week of work in and be much closer to identifying these kids.

      There was a little more silence from Allie while papers rustled. “Not exactly. It kind of looks like they want to let you handle the investigation and run it out of the state lab, but give you some help.”

      “Oh, great. I’ve had federal government ‘help’ before and it can get mighty tricky. In fact, I can only think of one really helpful federal employee I’ve ever met…” Kyra’s words trailed off as she felt her cheeks flush pink. Thinking about that particular person stirred her up more than working with these bones. She definitely didn’t want to turn around and face Allie right this minute, or even prolong this particular train of thought long enough for her perceptive assistant to ask who she was talking about.

      “Well, I hope his name is Joshua Richards, then,” Allie said, causing Kyra to raise her head quickly, banging into the bright light she’d lowered to give herself some aid in seeing distinctions in the bone. “Because that’s who they’re sending to help you.”

      What was that old phrase? Kyra asked herself as she rubbed the back of her head where it had struck the stainless-steel lamp. Oh, right. Be careful what you pray for, because you just might get it. “No one can tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Kyra muttered under her breath. Maybe next time she would frame her request for help a little more specifically.

      She realized that Allie was still standing behind her, waiting for some kind of answer. She tried to calm herself down. “That’s okay, I guess. I know him, anyway, and he’s a good investigator. Or at least he used to be.” There’d been some talk of a personal crisis a while back, before she’d left the university, but Kyra couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. They’d grown close during an investigation a year ago, and then drawn apart just as quickly. “So how quickly should I expect this help, anyway?”

      “Soon. It looks like the lieutenant sent you an e-mail instead of a letter because they expect Agent Richards by the end of the week.”

      “But it’s already Wednesday,” Kyra said, trying not to let her voice rise any higher toward panic pitch. She needed more than a day or two to prepare mentally to work with Joshua Richards again. He was attractive and disturbing and she didn’t need to deal with either of those things right now.

      “Very astute, Dr. Elliott,” a deep voice drawled from the doorway.