206 BONES by Kathy Reichs Read Free Book Online Page A

stayed in the big house with Omamma and a collie named Oskars. Pete’s aunt, uncle, and cousins moved to a smaller property two short blocks away.
     
Homes, cars, TVs, and washers. College funds for the kids. Within a decade, the Petersons families were living the stars-and-stripes dream. Juris continued until retirement at the refrigerator factory. Vilis switched to teaching math full-time at Elmhurst College.
     
Almost a half century since the transatlantic odyssey, some things have changed. Old Omamma is dead now. So is Vilis. Pete’s mother, now called Vecamamma, is ruling matriarch. Spouses have been added, and a new generation of cousins now shares the piragi. Though the ties that bind have multiplied through births and marriages, they’re still forged of the same old-world steel.
     
“How’s that feel?” Ryan asked. “Being with your ex’s relatives?”
     
“Splendid.”
     
“Not awkward?”
     
“Right now they think Pete’s a dick and I’m Queen of Angels.”
     
“That should work in your favor.”
     
“Here’s how my arrival is going to play out. I’ll grab my bag and sprint. You’ll drive away. Quickly. Got it?”
     
“Aren’t we the drama queen?”
     
“Got it?”
     
Ryan gave a snappy two-finger salute.
     
As I turned north onto Cottage Hill, the car fishtailed wildly. I gently pumped the brakes until the rear wheels came back into line with the front.
     
I expected commentary from Ryan. Surprisingly, he offered none.
     
Ancient elms now lined both sides of the street. Beyond the trees, first-floor windows in large old homes cast rectangles of light onto slush-covered lawns. Ahead, at Church Street, two shadowy structures brooded like bunkers in the cold, wet night. Immaculate Conception High School and Hawthorn Elementary.
     
Right turn, then I proceeded a half block and slid to the curb in front of a white Victorian whose wraparound porch bulged into gazebos at each of its corners. The porch’s ornately carved columns sat on a limestone outer wall that rose approximately four feet from the ground. The house’s roof and right-wing and front-door porticos composed a trio of triangles facing the street.
     
Every edge now dripped electric white icicles. Ho. Ho. Ho.
     
I shifted into park and turned to Ryan.
     
“There’s a Marriott on Route Eighty-three and a Holiday Inn on York Road.” I pointed in the general direction of each. “If they’re full, have the desk clerk call over to Oak Brook. It’s hotel city out that way.”
     
Hopping out, I opened the back door and snatched my purse and suitcase from the seat. Icy pellets blew horizontally into my face.
     
I met Ryan as he was circling the trunk.
     
“When you have a room and a flight, call me. Tomorrow we can figure out how to handle the car.”
     
Ryan said something that was lost to the wind.
     
“And be careful.” Shouted. “I declined the extra insurance.”
     
With that I bolted for the house, one hand fighting my scarf, the other dragging my roll-aboard over slush that had frozen into choppy little waves.
     
Before my thumb hit the bell, the door opened and I was dragged inside. The air smelled of lemon polish, rye bread, and roasting meat.
     
“Who’s driving that car?” Vecamamma asked after kissing my cheek. Never a buzzer or pecker, the old gal always planted a very firm wet one.
     
“A man I work with.”
     
“A policeman?” One of my nieces was peering past us through the storm door. With her dark hair, green eyes, and ivory skin, Allie showed not a hint of her Baltic gene pool.
     
“Yes.”
     
“Cool.” Allie’s younger sister, Bea, had wandered in wearing a very large sweater, very short skirt, black tights, and boots. On a six-foot blond the look was impressive.
     
“Is your policeman friend hungry?” Vecamamma was yanking my coat with enough force to rip pelts from wild game. “I’m making fresh ham. Men like fresh ham.”
     
“He’s eaten.” I managed to slip free of both sleeves while retaining my arms.
     
“What’s his