Read Online The Bone Chamber by Robin Burcell - Free Book Online Page B

a college student, and the latest stock news.
    After a quick scan of the headlines, she perused the flights home, trying to decide between a late morning and an early afternoon flight. She needed to decide how much time she was willing to spend with Scotty, and wondered if she should settle for a red-eye flying out tonight.
    What she should have done was accept the free flight home that Griffin offered, then she wouldn’t be sitting here trying to decide, while her stomach protested that she hadn’t had a bite since breakfast. She got up to find something to eat. Just as Carillo guessed, peanut butter and jelly was all Scotty seemed to have in the house. Some things never changed, she thought, staring out the window, absently pulling the crust from her sandwich. A light sprinkle misted the sidewalk and slush piles below, the few pedestrians rushing to their destinations in case it turned into a real rain.
    She liked this neighborhood, and for a moment she contemplated the idea of finding an apartment somewhere nearby—once she finally got around to actually looking. She’d lived here a short time with Scotty before they’d broken up, and she missed the area, the older tree-lined street, the Heavenly Java coffee shop on one corner and Raja’s Star of India restaurant on the other. In the summertime, you couldn’t see the sidewalk through the trees, but in the winter, with nary a leaf in sight, there was a clear view up and down the street. Peaceful, she thought, biting into her sandwich as a telephone utility truck pulled up, double-parked in front of the building.
    Maybe she could convince Scotty to move, let her have this place. In her selfish dreams, she thought, watching as two workmen got out, placed safety cones on either side of the work truck, then started unloading what looked like phone repair equipment from the back. Losing interest in the view, she returned to the computer, deciding she’d go late morning, sort of a compromise. Just enough time for breakfast and little else.
    Absorbed in her search, she heard Scotty’s telephone ring on the desk beside her. “Hello,” she said, noting the number from the caller ID read “Restricted.”
    “It’s Zach Griffin.”
    “What a surprise.”
    “Just wondering how you’re doing.”
    She eyed the flight times on the computer screen, looking for late morning. “Well, aren’t you the concerned federal agent. I’m doing great. So why are you really calling?”
    “Just wanted to remind you, this case is not for public consumption.”
    “And here I was thinking of holding a press conference. Thanks for the reminder.”
    She heard his laughter as she disconnected, and she was bothered by something she couldn’t quite place. She stared at the telephone. Scotty’s number was unlisted. She hadn’t given it to Griffin, and he wasn’t FBI, so how’d he get it? He would’ve called her cell phone, should’ve called it. She got up, walked to the window, saw the men in the phone truck packing up. It was either the fastest phone repair in history, or the CIA, or OGA, or whoever the hell they were, had justinstalled listening devices in Scotty’s building, and Griffin had just called to see if they were working.
    Sydney watched until the phone truck disappeared from view, trying to stay calm. To hell with calm. She used her cell phone to call the police department, the traffic investigations unit, asked the particulars on Tasha’s case, discovered there were no leads, nor was there anything that made them think it was anything but a “run-of-the-mill hit-and-run.” If it had been “run-of-the-mill,” why had Griffin not said something about working from the notes because the forensic anthropologist had been killed in a car accident, and the report hadn’t been finished?
    Because she and Tasha had been friends? There had to be more to it than that.
    She paced the room, told herself that she needed to think logically about this. But there was no logic.