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

the water if it hadn’t been dark outside. A few locals had wandered in as well, taking advantage of the later hours. Management didn’t care. So long as they were paying their staff overtime, they might as well be making money.

The same sad-sack hostess who’d seated them now hovered over a man sitting in the corner booth, facing the wall. She spoke in hushed, but highly animated tones. Cutter could tell from the tension in the hostess’s body language that they were having a disagreement. The man, obviously agitated by something she said to him, stood up quickly and tried to push his way past. The hostess hip-checked him, blocking his exit from the booth. She covered her face with both hands – and began to cry.

Cutter was on his feet in an instant, barking from across the restaurant.

“Hey! Everything okay?”

The hostess nodded. “I’m fine. He’s a friend of mine…”

The young man waved Cutter away. “We’re good,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. He rubbed his face and collapsed into the booth. The kid looked like a star football player who’d just lost the championship. His eyes were red from crying – and crying men were often the first to shove a pencil in your eye.

“I gotta be honest,” Cutter said, watching the man’s hands, his pockets, the area of the waistline that was visible. “You don’t look fine.”

Cutter heard footsteps padding up behind him. Before he could turn, Lola said, “Just us, boss.”

Detective Van Dyke stepped beside him, tilting her head sideways to whisper, “That’s Levi Fawsey. Senator Fawsey’s son.”

“Senator Fawsey?” Cutter said. He knew his federal reps but wasn’t up to speed enough on Alaska politics to know more than a couple of state senators.

“He represents Juneau,” Van Dyke said. “Bazillionaire owner of a couple of auto dealerships here and in Anchor-town.”

“Ah,” Cutter said. “That Fawsey—”

Senses heightened, Cutter caught a glimpse of movement at the entry with his peripheral vision. Lori Maycomb stood by the hostess podium, neck craned, scanning. She zeroed in on Levi Fawsey at once and marched across the restaurant, looming over the table. She ignored Cutter and her former sister-in-law as if they weren’t even there.

Both hands on the table, she leaned in close, nose to nose with the cowering young man. “Where is she?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Tell me what you’ve done with her!”

Rockie Van Dyke stepped forward and grabbed the reporter’s elbow. “Hey, now. Come on.”

Lori jerked away. “He’s done something to her, Rockie. I have a witness who saw her leave with him in his boat earlier this evening.” Her chest heaved as she fought back tears. “She’s not picking up or answering texts. No one’s seen her…”

Van Dyke folded her arms across her chest. “Seen who?”

The hostess spoke next. “Donita Willets. That’s who I just asked him about. Donita called me earlier. She was really upset about something. Now she won’t answer my texts.”

“Maybe she’s out of range?” Lola offered.

“Donita loves her phone too much to go out of cell service,” the hostess said. She turned to Fawsey again. “Please, Levi. Just tell us where she is. She’s in trouble. I can feel it.”

He leaned forward, banging his forehead on the table. “I… I’m sorry…” He began to weep in earnest now. His hands dropped to his lap.

“Levi,” Van Dyke said. “You’re making me really nervous. Keep your hands on the table where I can see them.”

He complied, but kept crying, his face sideways on the table in a growing puddle of tears and snot.

Lori Maycomb moved closer again. “She called me too, Levi.” “Do you know where she is?” Cutter asked, bile rising in his throat.

Head still on the table, as if he was waiting for someone to cut it off, Levi blurted: “She fell, okay! We were out on the boat… and she just fell out.”

The hostess gasped. Lola caught her as she sank to her knees. “I tried to save her,” Fawsey croaked. “But it was just… too cold. She went under…”

Detective Van Dyke held her radio to her lips, ready to get a rescue going that direction. “Where did she go over?” Van Dyke banged her free hand on the table. “How long ago?”

“North,” he sobbed. “It’s been too long. I’m telling you, she’s gone. I tried to save her… Nobody can find her.”

“Go ahead and stand up for me,” Van Dyke said. She kept her voice low and steady, but Cutter could tell she was rattled. “You got any weapons on you?”

He shook his head, raising his hands to shoulder height, obviously having been through this before.

Van Dyke cuffed him behind his back.

“Anything in your pockets that’ll hurt me? Needles? Fentanyl?”

“No,” he said, sniffing, trying to rub his nose against his shoulder. “Will someone please call my dad.”

“Sure,” Van Dyke said. “You’re not under arrest right now. But you were beating your head against the table so hard, I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself. I want you to listen to me, Levi. A girl’s life is at stake. I need you to tell me exactly where she fell out of your boat.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I can’t remember.”

“Where were you going?” Van Dyke asked. “A particular bay, hangout spot? Anything?”

“She’s just… gone.”

“Okay,” Detective Van Dyke said. “Now you’re under arrest. Let’s go.”

Lola helped the teetering hostess to a seat in the nearby booth before she collapsed. She kept the one that was covered with Levi Fawsey’s snot and tears secure for a possible sample of “free-flowing” DNA.

“I’m sure JPD will have a few questions for you,” she said.

The young hostess gave a shuddering nod and buried her face in her hands.

Lola stepped back and whispered to Cutter, “What do you think, boss? Girl goes missing on the same day an AUSA is murdered. You always say you don’t believe in coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” Lori Maycomb said.

“And you know this how?” Cutter asked.

“Because Donita Willets called me this morning. She was paranoid about something. Would only talk in person. She was supposed