Read Online Flash and Bones by Kathy Reichs - Free Book Online Page B

renovation project. Charlie Hunt was hunkered in at the Mecklenburg County Public Defender’s Office, preparing his closing argument for the trial of a woman accused of shooting her pimp.
    How to label Charlie Hunt? My friend? Suitor? Wannabe squeeze? So far, that was as hot as things had gotten. My call, not his.
    I celebrated the sunshine by running my long loop through Freedom Park and around all the Queens Roads. And Charlotte has a boatload. There’s even an intersection of queens and queens.
    In the afternoon I weeded the garden, then took Birdie onto the lawn for a session with the FURminator, removing several pounds of fur. After the grooming, he made himself scarce.
    In the evening I caught up on paperwork, then grilled a steak and ate it listening to Foghat and Devo full blast. Dove Bar for dessert.
    I am an island. A rock. Whatever.
    Ryan phoned around nine. I sensed from his tone that he preferred to keep the conversation light and away from the subject ofLily. His goal seemed to be educating me on NASCAR in Canada. Realizing his need for diversion, I mostly listened.
    “Jacques Villeneuve is an officer of the National Order of Quebec and was inducted into Canada’s Walk of Fame.”
    “Quite an honor for an athlete.”
    “To date, no other Canadian has won the Indianapolis 500 or the F One Drivers’ title.”
    “Impressive—”
    “Jacques Villeneuve has had over a dozen career NASCAR starts. Five in the Nationwide Series and three in the Sprint Cup Series.”
    “And the others?”
    “Probably the Camping World Truck Series. I know he drove in the 2009 Canadian Tire Series. I was in the stands for that one.”
    “What team is he with?”
    “He was driving the thirty-two Toyota for Braun Racing. Not sure now. I think he’s trying to get back into Formula One, but the FIA World Motor Sport Council decided there won’t be any new teams this year.”
    “Is Villeneuve the only Canadian NASCAR driver?”
    “
Tabarnac,
no. Mario Gosselin drives in the Camping World Truck Series. Pierre Bourque, D. J. Kennington, though those guys are mostly part-timers. Jean-François Dumoulin and Ron Fellows are road-course ringers.”
    “Which means?”
    “They drive road courses, not ovals.” Pause. “Anything new on your landfill case?”
    I briefed him on developments.
    “You planning a return trip to the Speedway?”
    “If necessary.”
    Ryan hesitated. “If you go, will you be anywhere near the Nationwide garage area?”
    When I realized where he was going, I burst out laughing.
    “You want Jacques Villeneuve’s autograph, don’t you?”
    “The man’s a legend.”
    “You’re such a dork.”
    “It’s not like I’m suggesting you steal the guy’s jockeys.”
    “Lieutenant-détective Andrew Ryan, Villeneuve groupie.”
    “Dr. Temperance Brennan, all-around smart-ass.” I could hear Ryan’s blush flame across the line.
    “You wear a cap with the number thirty-two and Jacques’s picture stitched on the brim?”
    “Forget it. I don’t even know if Villeneuve’s racing in Charlotte.”
    Ryan wished me
bonne chance,
then we disconnected.
    I was settling on the sofa to watch
Boston Legal
reruns with my very dapper cat when the front doorbell bonged.
    Birdie and I looked at each other in surprise. No one ever uses that entrance.
    Curious, I crossed the living room and put an eye to the peephole.
    And actually cringed.
    Summer stood on the porch, digging in a purse the size of a mail pouch. Backlit by the carriage light, her hair looked like a nimbus of white cotton candy.
    I considered a quick drop and a belly crawl to the stairs.
    Instead, I turned the lock.
    Summer’s head popped up at the sound of the tumblers. Even in the dimness, I could see she’d been crying.
    “Hey,” she said.
    “Hey.”
    “I know it’s kinda late.”
    Kinda.
    “Would you like to come in?” I stood back and opened the door wide.
    Summer slipped past me, leaving a tsunami of Timeless in her wake. When I turned, she