Read Online Bones Are Forever by Kathy Reichs - Free Book Online Page B

letters and phone calls for a while; no e-mail back then. Eventually, predictably, the thing just died.
    And here he was. Sitting face-to-face with player number two in my very short lineup of postmarital lovers.
    Hearing footsteps, both men looked my way.
    “Dr. Brennan.” Ollie rose and spread both hands, the left missing most of its fourth digit.
    “Sergeant Hasty.” Ignoring the invitation to hug, I extended a palm. As we shook, I tried to recall how the finger was lost. Weird, but that’s where my mind went.
    “I understand you two know each other.” Ryan remained butt-leaning on the desk.
    “Dr. Brennan and I met in Quantico.” Ollie’s liquid brown eyes held mine. “When was that?”
    “A long time ago.” I willed my cheeks not to flame.
    “Dandy,” Ryan said. “Shall we discuss Annaliese Ruben?”
    As I slipped past Ollie and took a chair to his left, I wondered what Ryan knew. Had our long-ago dalliance come up in the course of conversation about Annaliese Ruben? Surely Ollie would not be so crass.
    Was Ollie’s history with me the source of Ryan’s current coolness? Ridiculous. At best it had been an episode of catch-and-release, old news by the time I came to Montreal. And Ryan and I had pulled the plug on our relationship over a year ago. He couldn’t be so childish as to harbor a grudge about a fling that happened before he and I met. Could he? Besides, if he knew, it would have been very recent news to him, his iceberg demeanor already in place.
    “Let’s,” said Ollie.
    “How about we start with why you’re here,” said Ryan.
    “Two reasons. First, there’s an outstanding warrant on Ruben. You say she’s here in Quebec. Second, Ruben is an HRP reportedmissing from my turf. As a member of the Project KARE task force, I have to follow leads on MPs who fit that profile.”
    Without waiting for a response, Ollie snapped open the brass clasps on his briefcase, withdrew a folder, and flipped its cover. I noticed that the file held two thin pages.
    Worrisome thought. Had Annaliese Ruben’s disappearance been investigated at all? Cared about?
    “The report was filed as a front-desk walk-in,” Ollie began. “Reporting party was Susan Forex, street name Foxy.”
    “Odd move for a hooker,” Ryan said.
    “Foxy’s an odd chick.”
    “You know her?”
    “I do. But Foxy’s bellying up wasn’t all that strange. The ladies in Edmonton are scared shitless.”
    “Rock and a hard spot. Cops or crazies.”
    Ollie gestured agreement. “A rookie named Gerard took Forex’s statement. Forex claimed Ruben was boarding at her house. According to the summary, Ruben had a date to see a john she described as a big spender. The meet was to be at the Days Inn downtown.”
    Ollie was plucking relevant information out of the file.
    “Ruben never came home. Four months later, Forex decided to report her missing.”
    “Took her a while to get worried,” Ryan said.
    “How long were they roommates?” I asked.
    “Maybe half a year.”
    “Did anyone follow up?”
    “Wasn’t much to follow. Street people change addresses like the rest of us change socks. And most won’t give the cops squat. A prossie named Monique Santofer was also living with Forex at the time. Both were questioned, a few others. No one knew spit.”
    Ryan and I said nothing. We both knew the reality.
    After those queries, the file had probably circulated within the detective bureau, created no blip on anyone’s screen. From there, it had gone to a centralized missing persons division where far too few detectives were responsible for the impossibly large number of persons reported missing each year. Eventually, it had become buried in a stack of others like it.
    But somehow, thankfully, it had found its way to Project KARE.
    “Why do you think Forex made the effort?” I asked.
    “Edmonton is a killing field for these women. Many are so scared they’re voluntarily giving DNA samples so their bodies can be identified if they’re