Page 7 of Fire and Bones

“Why?”

A beat, then, “That’s not important.”

“Help her how?” Resisting a sigh. Already resigned.

“A building is on fire in the district. I don’t have any details, but people are missing and feared trapped inside. Ivy has been assigned to the story and would like you to talk about what happens during the processing of fire scenes containing dead people.”

“Why me?”

“You wrote an article about—here’s a shocker—processing fire scenes containing dead people. Ivy found it, knows you’re my mother, contacted me.”

I had to think a moment. Bingo.

The publication had appeared more than fifteen years earlier in an obscure journal for arson investigators. I was astounded the piece was still available.

“Where did she dig up that bit of genius?”

“Mom. Nothing ever dies on the World Wide Web.”

True. But the fact that Doyle had unearthed it told me she was one dogged sleuth.

“Ryan is flying down from Montreal tomorrow. I’m picking him up at five-thirty in the evening, then we’re leaving town.”

“Ivy can set up a Zoom meeting whenever you want. You pick the time.”

“Why does this smell like an ambush?”

“The entire thing will take five minutes.”

Except for the whole hair and makeup effort I’d have to make.

“Fine. Eight a.m.”

“Ivy will send you an email with a Zoom link. Have I told you that you’re awesome?”

“No.”

“You’re awesome.”

Five hours later I was seated at my computer, blush on my cheeks, hair in a reasonably stable ponytail. The face filling the left half of my screen was that of a thirty-something with aquamarine eyes, perfect teeth, flawless skin, ginger hair, and a provocatively asymmetric nose. A combo that might have landed it on the cover of Vogue.

To say Ivy Doyle was charismatic would be like saying the Atlantic Ocean was damp. Even digitally, the woman radiated a force that was almost palpable.

So why was it such a big deal to interview me?

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this. Perhaps Katy mentioned it, but I’m pitching a show to the network. It’s called ID: Ivy Doyle Digs. Get it? The title uses my initials.”

“Clever.”

“Currently, I do ID as a podcast. But I don’t want to stay a local reporter and podcaster forever. I know this fire isn’t the story of the century, but scoring an on-air interview with a celebrity scientist will improve my visibility. Which never hurts in the TV biz.”

Celebrity scientist?

Unsure how to respond, I said nothing.

“To not waste your time, I’ll do an intro later and paste that part in, explaining that the building has been burning since sometime after midnight, and that recovery will begin as soon as the site is deemed safe. This morning, I’ll just outline your qualifications, then go to my questions. You cool with that?”

“Let’s do it.” A tad uneasy not having seen those questions.

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