Bones of the Lost

important, whatever the outcome. Sheyn Bagh was a bad situation with no winners. We helped see justice done.”
    “Have you spoken to Lieutenant Gross?”
    “No. But I heard through the grapevine he’s itchy to go back downrange.” Blanton’s look suggested he was trying to bore into my brain. “So how’s business? As busy as over there?”
    “Mm.”
    “Bad people doing bad things to other people. Hopefully to other bad people. But that’s not always how it goes, is it?”
    Blanton leaned close, conspiratorial. He smelled of stale coffee and Old Spice.
    “We see it, don’t we? Evil. Day in, day out. After a while it screws with your head. How does shit happen to good people? People like John Gross.”
    I thought it a poor example, but held my tongue.
    “I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to believe evil exists in this world. Real, tangible evil. You never know when you’re going to wake up and find it sitting on our doorstep.”
    Blanton gave a self-deprecating grin.
    “Listen to me, philosophizing. And look at you. You’re freezing.”
    Blanton lifted the scarf from the box in my hands, unfolded it, and draped it over my shoulders. As he leaned close I noticed a tattoo low on his neck, a Chinese symbol of some sort.
    Was I the only person left on the planet without inked skin?
    “You take care, Dr. Brennan.”
    Before I could respond, Blanton turned and headed up the sidewalk. I watched until he vanished around the corner at Selwyn.
    Feeling a sense of relief.
    Jesus. Why did the guy creep me out so?
    Suddenly my ankle didn’t feel so great.
    I did a slow jog home, showered, ate lunch, then headed to the MCME.
     
    By 4:30 I’d finished with the skull. The unpleasant part was scraping off the caca. The easy part was ruling out foul play. No pun intended.
    The skull was that of a young adult male, very possibly of Indian origin. The sutures and dentition gave me age. The bulging brow ridges, prominent nuchal crest, and large mastoid processes gave me gender.
    The little screws, intended to hold the mandible in place, told me the skull was a biological supply house specimen. The exportation of real human bone stopped decades ago, but during the period it was legal, most human skeletons came from India. That fact, along with facial architecture, suggested South Asian ancestry.
    I wrote a report stating the above. It would be up to Larabee, and, if he pursued it, the CMPD to figure out how the skull ended up in the dumper.
    Motivated by my exemplary performance unpacking, jogging, and analyzing the skull, I hit a Harris Teeter on the way home to stock up on provisions. Who says I’m a procrastinator?
    It was almost dusk by the time I got to the annex. Birdie darted from the hall closet and twined around my legs.
    I picked him up and scratched his chin. He showed keen interest as I stashed my newly acquired rations. I left him wrestling with one of the plastic grocery bags.
    I was upstairs stacking toilet paper and soap in the bathroom closet when I thought of the alarm and hurried down to set it. I’d seen a CMPD cruiser circling the drive as I arrived. Slidell’s surveillance. Still.
    Though I’d never admit it, I was glad the cops were out there. At least periodically. D’Ostillo’s murder had my nerves on edge. Not to mention the delivery of her tongue to my house.
    And Blanton’s unannounced appearance bothered me. Why notmail the scarf? Why buy it in the first place? That was one weird dude.
    What had he said? Wake up and find evil sitting on our doorstep. Was he conveying a veiled threat?
    The phone rang.
    “Jeez, doc. I been calling for an hour.”
    “What is it, detective?”
    “I brought Tarzec in for questioning. Didn’t expect much, and that’s what I got. Squat. Had nothing, so I had to kick her.”
    “What about tax returns, employee documentation, a lease or mortgage on the building?”
    “I’m working on it. But I did touch base with the guy at ICE.”
    “Luther Dew.”
    “Yeah. What a donkey dick.”
    “Maybe if you tell him what D’Ostillo said—”
    “I’m way ahead of you. I dropped by to share a few pics.”
    “The photo of D’Ostillo’s body?”
    “Thought he’d toss his lunch. But he gets it now. This could be about more than dead dogs. He shared some intel he’d just scored.”
    I waited.
    “Rockett’s a frequent traveler to the Lone Star State.”
    “How did Dew learn that?”
    “ICE is digging hard. Cell phone records, credit card