Page 107 of Fire and Bones

Feeling uneasy, I vowed to mention the text to Deery.

Antsy knowing that nothing would happen until Monday, I dressed, did a quick toilette, and clumped downstairs.

The kitchen was empty. Perhaps Lan was turning the pages of a hymnal somewhere?

Someone had made coffee. Mentally thanking them, I helped myself and added cream. Was carrying the mug to my room when my iPhone again exploded with the opening guitar riff from AC/DC’s “Back in Black.”

Jarring, I know. But I’d grown tired of Jelly Roll and the link had popped up when I’d searched with the keywords “DC” and “ring-tone.”

I double-stepped the last two treads, and grabbed the device so quickly I slopped coffee onto my tee.

The screen now happily provided a name. One that surprised me. And proved me wrong.

“Lizzie. I’m impressed you’re working on the Lord’s Day,” I said, plucking tissues to blot the stain splattered across my belly.

“Until the big guy sends me a sugar daddy, that’s how I roll.”

“Seriously?”

“No.” Throaty chuckle. “It’s a dreary morning so I figured I’d do some paperwork catch-up. The office is blissfully quiet. Why do you always sound out of breath?”

“Did you send me a text last night?” I asked, ignoring her question.

“No. Why?”

“You received the samples?”

“The package was waiting when I arrived. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Did you look at them?”

“A quick glance.”

“Will you be able to extract usable DNA?”

“The bone quality is shit.”

That didn’t sound promising.

“But it’s doable?”

“We’ll see.” Not exactly a promise.

“I really appreciate your bumping my case to the front of the queue.” A request I’d not made explicitly but had implied in the accompanying note. “I’ve been stuck in DC far longer than I’d planned.”

“People pay big bucks to visit our nation’s capital.”

“No kidding. Half the country was here last weekend.”

“Get your ass out and take in an exhibit. I like the bonsai museum.”

“That’s a real thing?”

“Hell, yeah. One of their bitsy little trees dates to 1625 and survived the Hiroshima bombing.”

“Your lab has a genetic genealogist on staff, right?”

“It does.”