The Bone Fire: A Mystery by Christine Barber Read Free Book Online Page B

asked, as her tears, now freed, started to overwhelm her.
    “No, we don’t think—”
    “Oh my God, oh my God . . .” she said, looking wildly at her mom.
    “Ashley—” Gil said.
    “Who would put her there? Oh my baby, oh my sweet baby.” Her face was pressed hard into her mom’s shoulder, and she started to sob as if she were gasping for air. She popped her head up suddenly and said, “I think I’m going to be sick.” Gil jumped up to help pull her and her pregnant belly off the chair. Her mom escorted her to the bathroom down the hall.
    As soon as the two men were left alone, Joe turned to face Gil and said, “What the fuck was that—”
    The sounds of retching come from down the hall. Then running water.
    “Okay, that’s gross,” Joe said, before turning back to Gil and saying, without lowering his voice, “What was all that shit about ‘whatever the cops did in the past I’m better than that’?”
    “That’s not what I said.”
    “That’s sure as hell what I heard,” Joe said.
    “Joe, I never meant to insult you or Detective Fisher—”
    “That’s a load of crap—”
    “I was just trying to establish a rapport with her.”
    Mrs. Rodriguez came back in the room, saying, “I think she needs to lie down.”
    “I understand,” Gil said just as the front door open and someone yelled, “Tía, we’re here.”
    “That’s my nephew, my sister’s son,” she said, looking stricken. “I forgot, Ashley’s babysitting them. They don’t have school because of fiesta.”
    A boy and a girl came into the kitchen and immediately looked at Gil with disdain.
    The boy had blond Chia Pet hair, sticking straight out from his head in a round fuzzy ball. It was a crew cut gone wrong on a boy who shouldn’t have had one. In Northern New Mexico slang, he would have been called a coyote—a person who is half white, half Hispanic. It wasn’t a racial slur, only a locally used description, like Anglo or Pueblo Indian.
    Next to him, holding his hand, was his girlfriend. She didn’t look nervous, more like ready for a fight, but then she was used to this, too. The excitement of being interviewed by the police had probably worn off months ago. She had dark eyes and a distinctive nose that Gil’s father would have said made the girl a Southern Colorado Hispanic. Long ago, two enclaves of conquistador descendents separated—one group stayed in Northern New Mexico and the other went to Southern Colorado. His father insisted that the passage of time had given each group defining physical characteristics. In the north, they tended to be taller and thinner and have bigger noses. In the south, they were stouter and had flatter faces. This, his dad would say proudly, was where Gil’s height came from. Their northern relatives.
    The girl wore the typical heavy black eyeliner sweeping on top of the lid. It had been a popular look for Northern New Mexico girls since he had been a teenager. His wife said it made the eyes look more almond shaped. He thought it just made them all look sinister.
    “Are you Justin and Laura?” Gil asked. Neither one of them answered, but the girl said mockingly, “More cops, great.”
    “They found something,” Mrs. Rodriguez said, trying to pacify them.
    “Where’s Ashley?” Justin asked.
    “She’s not feeling good,” Gil said.
    “Is she all right—” Justin started to ask, before Laura interrupted. “She’s supposed to be taking us to the Plaza for fiesta.” Laura was wearing a short-cropped pink tank top and running pants with sneakers, looking like one of the Bratz dolls Gil’s daughter Joy used to like so much. She had the attitude to match.
    “I don’t think she’s up to it,” Mrs. Rodriguez said.
    “Fine,” Laura said.
    “Can I talk to you guys for a second?” Gil asked.
    “No,” Justin said sharply.
    “C’mon, dude, it’s about Brianna,” Joe said.
    Justin rolled his eyes—and in that expression, Gil saw how tired the boy was. Not just of the