Page 126 of Fire and Bones

I shrugged. Who knows?

A moment of silence, then Deery’s eyes went needle thin. “I’m looking forward to our little talk with GrammaSue.”

Our?

Don’t read too much into that, Brennan.

Deery did his measured walk-through to get the car moving. Then we were off to Mount Airy.

Knowing that the drive would take forever with Detective Drag-ass at the wheel, I pulled out my cellphone to pass the time. A bit of googling produced several interesting factoids.

Mount Airy, Maryland, lies roughly sixty miles north of DC and thirty-five miles west of Baltimore. Its main street—not surprisingly called Main Street—straddles the Carroll and Frederick County lines. The town has a population just under ten thousand. The little burg exists due to its elevation.

Explanation. In 1830, when the B&O Railroad was attempting to connect the cities of Baltimore and Frederick, engineers concluded that a nearby ridge was too high for trains to navigate. The lines were laid two miles to the south and, as a result, Mount Airy was born. The town’s name had something to do with cold wind chilling a brakeman’s ears.

By looping through a warren of sites and message boards, I got the sense that entering the twenty-first century wasn’t a popular idea with many Mount Airy residents. Nevertheless, all the usual players were present—Walmart, Safeway, TJMaxx. You get the picture. Keep my burg quaint but assure me discount pickles and sandals.

We’d just crossed into Maryland when my mobile buzzed in my hand.

“Dr. Thacker,” I answered, seeing the name on caller ID. “How can I help you?”

“I got tox results back on the four Foggy Bottom DOAs. Thought you might be interested.”

“Definitely.” I meant it. But I was also suspicious of Thacker’s real motive for calling. Did she have additional cases in need of external review? A desire for written reports on the files I’d already read?

“I’ll keep this brief. Hill was clean. Not so much as an aspirin.”

“The young Canadian woman.”

“Yes. Green and Star both had traces of coke and high blood alcohol levels. El-Aman had alcohol and Xanax on board.”

“Wasn’t el-Aman Muslim?”

“When the cat’s away, as the saying goes.”

“No wonder they all slept through the fire.”

“All except Hill.”

“Right.” Thacker had allowed me to listen to a recording of the girl’s desperate 911 call. It still broke my heart to imagine the terror of her last moments.

“Unless there’s something else you need, I’ll be releasing the bodies today,” Thacker said.

“The families will be pleased.”

“Anything more on the subcellar remains?”

“I’m waiting for a call back from a colleague in Virginia.”

“The genetic genealogist?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s hoping that doesn’t blow too big a hole in my budget.”

“Thanks for the update,” I said.

Though I knew Deery had been listening—stilled movement, lowered breathing—he kept his eyes on the road, his questions to himself.