Page 79 of The Bone Hacker

My insights were meager. Two, to be exact.

The cleanness of the cuts suggested an extremely sharp-edged tool.

The absence of false starts suggested a very skilled perp.

Brilliant. Now you’re getting somewhere, Brennan.

My stomach growled with an intensity that probably registered on devices in the Yukon. Blood vessels hammered my brain. My knee demanded Advil.

Was that trifecta the reason for the self-flagellation?

My conclusions, though limited, were helpful.

Frighteningly helpful.

Monck didn’t answer his phone.

It was less than twenty minutes from the morgue to Villa Renaissance. On the way, I stopped at Danny Buoy’s.

Intrigued by its name, I ordered the Intoxicated Chicken. The contents of the takeout container filled the car’s interior with the smell of exotic spices and mojo sauce.

Upon entering the condo, I left my food in the kitchen, droppedmy clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor, and took a quick, hot shower. Big surprise.

After dressing in sweats, I towel dried my hair, and knocked back two Advil. Then I dived into the chow. The poultry, roast sweet potato, and corn on the cob were all that their enticing aromas had promised.

Belly full, knee and frontal lobe drugged into submission, I brushed my teeth, cracked the glass doors, drew the drapes, and crawled into bed. While plugging my iPhone into its charger, I noticed the date.

Only five days on the island—still, it felt like a lifetime. No Birdie. No Ryan. And now no Musgrove.

Suck it up, Brennan.Do your job. Do it for Musgrove.

Reinvigorated by my pithy self-help pitch, maybe by the pepper and garlic in the mojo sauce, I dialed Monck. This time he answered.

“Detective Monck.”

“I called you earlier,” I said in a rush.Too accusatory?

“We got a tip on Milo Willis.”

“Go on.”

“Caller said Mr. Elusive was at the Turtle Cove Marina.”

“Was he?”

“No.”

“Who phoned in the tip?”

“Whoever it was refused to provide a name,” Monck said, sighing.

“Any joy with Uri Stribbe?”

“No.”

“You’ll get them,” I said.

“We will.” Monck’s clipped answers hinted that he wished to keep the call short. Or end it.

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