Rowan was thin. Her elbows were more pointed than usual, and her face was skinny. Shame swept through Malcolm because he knew she needed more food, and he had made the man mad today.
I’ll be okay, but she needs to eat. I need to sneak her more of my portions.
“I’m cold.” Rowan sat in a ball on the floor, their blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Malcolm sat beside her and got as close as he could, hugging her through the blanket. She kept shaking. He pulled off his coat and tucked it around her over the blanket.
“You need your coat,” she said.
“Nah. I don’t feel cold right now. Maybe later.”
She laid her head on his shoulder as they huddled together. Malcolm fought to hold still through his shivers, not wanting her to feel them. It was more important that she was warm.
I don’t know what I’ll do if she gets sick.
They needed to get out of there. He’d thought the police would have found them by now, but he didn’t think they were coming.
We’re on our own in the hands of the devil.
12
As she drove to her parents’ home, Rowan waited for her call to be answered.
“Rowan? I was wondering when I’d hear from you today.” Sam Durette’s deep voice filled her vehicle and made her smile. The retired detective was always a ray of light. He had seen the worst of what people did to one another, yet his positivity and humor were always present.
“I’m on my way to the birthday party,” Rowan said. “It turned out to be a long day in the woods.”
“Sounds like something happened.”
“It did.” She told him about the body of the woman she’d found and then about the cache of bones. “The medical examiner thinks one of the skulls is young. Possibly male. A forensic anthropologist will remove them tomorrow.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“There are two sets of bones?” Sam asked.
“At least,” said Rowan. “We didn’t want to disturb a crime scene.”
“I don’t need to tell you not to get your hopes up.”
“You don’t,” she said. “Even if it has nothing to do with Malcolm, hopefully the bones will be identified and provide answers to other families who are missing loved ones.”
“Tell me about the woman in the river.”
Rowan gave a brief description. “Detective Bolton caught the case because it’s similar to two others he is handling.”
“What is similar?” Sam asked sharply.
“Nude female. Dumped somewhere. Strangled. Although that hasn’t been confirmed as the cause of death for this victim. The other two were in their early twenties, and we don’t know the age of this one yet. So I guess there aren’t that many confirmed commonalities.”
“I hadn’t heard about the other two women,” said Sam. “Usually I notice that sort of thing in the news.”
“I saw an article about it,” said Rowan. “I think it was bigger news in their hometowns than here.”
“Could be.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry I can’t be there tonight. I need to stay with Grace. She keeps telling me to go, but I know she’s not feeling well.”
Sam’s wife was doing chemotherapy.
“The party will be different this year,” Rowan said softly, thinking of Ken. Both he and Sam had always attended Malcolm’s birthday parties.
“I’m so sorry about Ken,” said Sam. “He was one of the good ones.”
“He was. Just like you are.”
She ended the call a few moments later, her mind full of past parties to which Ken and Sam had brought their wives. The parties were always upbeat and social. Music. Laughter. Food. Everyone would have a good time.
It was always the day after the party that Rowan would be hit with heaviness and a deep sorrow about what could have been.
She parked at the curb in front of her parents’ home.
Don’t mention the bones.
Rowan had argued with herself for the entire drive about whether to mention the bones discovered near the river. The family’s hopes had been dashed too many times over the years. Chances were that this report would do the same.
But it’d been so long since there had been any news or hope of any kind. The discovery today was the first in many years.
If I say nothing, then tonight will be as wonderful as always.
Say nothing.
It was doubtful there would be questions about the body she had found. She hadn’t told anyone besides Sam Durette.
Rowan grabbed the gift and bottle of prosecco from the passenger seat and headed toward the front door. Prosecco had been added to the celebration when the twins turned twenty-one. It worked quite well with Malcolm’s favorite orange soda, creating a twisted version of a mimosa that was extra fizzy.
She was late. Rowan walked right in the front door, and her stress from the day melted away. She loved her parents’ home. Giggling came from the kitchen, and music sounded from multiple speakers. She heard her father’s deep laugh, and it warmed her heart. He was the type who always had a smile and a word of encouragement for everyone.
Would Malcolm have been the same way?
In her heart she knew he would. He’d always cheered her on and had been infatuated with the twins, delighted by their pudgy cuteness.
Some acquaintances judged the family for celebrating Malcolm’s birthday, claiming it was unhealthy to hold on to the past. That was why they were acquaintances, not friends. Her parents had stopped defending the gathering years ago, letting the busybodies wallow in their own nosy concern.
Fuck them all.
“Aunt Rowan!” West charged her from the family room and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What’s in the present?” He lowered his voice. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.
She laughed. “Nice try.” The white elephant gift swap was always a highlight of the evening. “Where’s your mom?”
West led her around the corner to the kitchen, which was part of a huge great room with high ceilings and an eye-catching fireplace. The other four adults were at the island, champagne glasses of fizzy bright-orange mimosas already in their hands. Two empty prosecco bottles stood in the sink.
“Good thing I brought another bottle,” said Rowan as she hugged her father. “I’m glad you made it, Dad.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He took a step back and studied her. “Girls, her hair looks amazing,” he said to the twins.
“Told you so, Dad,” said Iris as she finished her drink. “I’ve already put the before and after photos up on Instagram.”
“Do they show my face?” asked Rowan. The twins had once featured her as one of their amazing hair makeovers, and Rowan’s friends had teased her unmercifully.
“No. Just the back of your head,” said Iris, rolling her eyes. “You made it clear last time not to do that again.”
“Good.” Rowan set down the present and took the drink her mother offered. “Let’s do this.”
Two hours later Rowan was exhausted.
But in a good way. She’d kept the news of the bones and murdered woman to herself. It’d been the right decision. Wearing the sparkly pink cowboy hat she’d stolen from her father in the gift exchange, she kissed her parents goodbye and hugged her sisters. West was sound asleep on the sofa, his stomach full of an impressive number of Tater Tots.
Outside she headed to her SUV, her step light and her heart content. It’d been a perfect evening even though their number was smaller than usual. She opened the passenger door and set the hat carefully on the seat, grinning as she recalled her father’s glee when he opened the white elephant gift from Ivy. He’d immediately put it on his head, and it had rocked, too small to sit correctly.
Rowan’s girly side had craved the hat, loving the pink sparkles. Even though they didn’t appear in her wardrobe, she had a weakness for things that glittered.
It’d been a long, emotional day. She knew the heaviness that always came after Malcolm’s party was about to start.
It was best to go home, hug her dog, and go to bed.
13
“Find your brother and you can split a candy bar.”
He pulled the blindfold from five-year-old Rowan’s eyes. She covered her eyes, the sunlight too bright.
“You’ve got five minutes.”