Bone Rattle by Marc Cameron (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📕

Constance gave her little brother another dyspeptic sneer. “Not like a warm Florida beach, nimrod. He’s talking about a rocky Alaska beach littered with stinking kelp and dead things.”

“Wait,” Matthew said. “Will it have that kind of kelp that’s like a bullwhip? Because that would be so fun.”

“Whatever,” Constance said. “You guys have a grand old time. I’m not going.”

Michael stared at her, dumbfounded, looking for all the world like his father. “You can’t stay home all by yourself.”

“He’s kind of right, you know,” Mim said.

Constance bowed her head so her bangs hung over her eyes, glaring. “You already said I could spend a couple of nights at Audrey’s.”

“I guess I did,” Mim admitted.

Her face flushed as she watched Arliss cajole the boys into working together as they rolled, folded, and then cut the dough into buttered squares. It had been a long day and her mouth was beginning to water, even with Constance’s sour attitude.

“I guess we’ll go to Juneau then,” she said, just as Arliss slid the baking sheet into the oven.

Constance shook her head, hiding again behind the sullen bangs. The boys crowed happily, until Michael pushed in too close. Matthew jerked away, finally letting loose with the full-throated cry he’d been holding back all afternoon.

“Come on, bud,” Arliss said, assuming he was still upset about the spill. “It’s just buttermilk.”

“I’m not mad about that,” Matthew sobbed.

“What then?” Mim prodded.

Matthew stood rooted in place, eyes flitting back and forth between his mom and his brother. Finally, he turned to Arliss, choking back his tears. “There’s a girl in our class. She was my friend first, but Michael came up and was all, ‘Hi’ and ‘Those are cool Sketchers,’ telling her jokes and stuff. Now she likes him more.”

Cutter looked quickly away, but Mim caught the sadness in his eyes.

“Wish I could help you, bud,” he whispered. “But sometimes… it just bees that way.” He took a quick breath, obviously steadying himself. “Anyway, stew is done, biscuits are in the oven. I’m going to get some of my gear ready.” He rubbed the top of Matthew’s head, mussing his blond hair. “I think you boys should clean the flour off your snouts before dinner.”

Mim tapped the table with the flat of her hand as soon as Arliss and the boys left the kitchen.

Constance looked up, earbuds dangling.

“Turn your music off,” Mim said.

“I can hear you fine.”

“Turn it off or lose your phone.”

Constance complied, but with the kind of disgusted groan that would have made a less trusting mother lock her bedroom door at night.

“I’m getting really tired of walking on eggshells around you,” Mim said, exhaustion settling all the way to her bones. “You’re not alone in your misery, you know. It’s been an awful couple of years for all of us.”

Stoney silence.

“Your uncle is a guest in this house,” Mim said. “He helps us in more ways than you know.”

“I’m sure he does,” Constance said. “But maybe we don’t need that much help.”

“But we do,” Mim said. “He pays rent. He helps with the boys. He—”

“Whatever,” Constance said, gathering up her notebook and papers. “I need to wash my face before dinner.” She stood, looking down the hall, then back at Mim. “I’ve decided I am going to Juneau with the family.”

“Why?” Mim scoffed. “So you can make everybody else miserable and show Arliss how much you hate him?”

“Holy shit, Mom,” Constance whispered. “I can’t believe you don’t see it. I don’t hate Uncle Arliss.”

“Then spill it. What is your problem?”

“I’d much rather stay home and go to the mall with Audrey, but I’m not…”

“You’re not what?”

“I don’t know,” Constance said, her chin beginning to quiver, starting to break down. “It just… it just seems like you’re forgetting Dad.”

“Constance!” Mim found it difficult to breathe. “Come with us to Juneau or stay with your friends. But know this, I am allowed a few moments of happiness. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting. I will never forget your dad.”

“You gave away his knife, Mom,” Constance said, the emotional walls coming up again, spiked with broken glass.

“What should I do? Leave it to rot in the sock drawer? You know what? I’ve changed my mind. You should stay home.”

“I’d much rather do that,” Constance said.

“They why the sudden flip-flop? You’re giving me whiplash.”

“You already know.”

Mim threw her head back to stare at the ceiling. Exasperated. “What does that even mean?”

“Make me go if you have to,” Constance said. “Or make me stay home. I could not possibly care any less than I already do.”

This wasn’t all hormones. Something was going on here. Maybe a little distance would do them both some good. “Stay home then.”

Constance hung her head, hiding behind the horrible bangs that hung down like flaps on either side of her face. “Whatever.”

Chapter 9

Juneau

“There is another problem,” Dollarhyde said, “beyond the Hernandez brothers.”

Grimsson gave an exasperated nod. There was always something. “And what would that be?”

“That reporter from the public radio station has been digging around.”

“She’s the one that was supposed to do that feel-good piece about the mine a few months ago.”

“That’s the one,” Dollarhyde said.

“Well, it didn’t make me feel good.”

“I hear you,” Dollarhyde said. “Whatever she found while doing that report has her asking even more questions now. Sooner or later she’s going to ask the right questions to the right people and be able to connect the dots. My contact at the station says she has a source who can damage you.”

Grimsson nearly bit the stem off the pipe. “A source? You’re telling me someone from my organization is selling me out to the media? I want to know who this son of a bitch is! I want them standing in front of me on this island, pissing down their legs. And I want it now! You read me?”

“I understand, sir,” Dollarhyde said, his voice calm as ever. “We’re watching the reporter now. I’ll have her phone cloned shortly, then we’ll know who she’s calling and who’s calling