Mary's Bones

THIRTY-FIVE

Thirteen-year-old Regina Carpenter and nine-year-old Leia Kim were the only two children left to find, and I was hoping they'd show up on their own like some of the others.

I wouldn't break any more promises to John from here on. I couldn't. It was time I left all the police work to him and focused on Rosemary's well-being. Neither of us were to tell anyone about this. It was best to save the drama and the explanations, and to keep me out of trouble.

Whether he and I knew those were Genesis Santiago's bones didn't matter. The police still needed confirmation. A proper facial reconstruction was going to be done within the next few days. Then, they'd relay the news to Mya and Vanessa. It'd take a few days at most, for the reconstruction to be done.

Everything was a mess. In the end, John was still willing to cuddle with me all night. No matter how pissed he was. His arms were still coddling me against his chest, hands placed on my stomach. I wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like we were closer than ever—literally and figuratively. Our bodies couldn't press any closer.

Just looking at his face did a number on me.

My eyes fell on his chest, rising and falling. He was at peace compared to earlier.

I couldn't believe he'd think for a second, I didn't love him. Oftentimes, I wondered if I wasn't showing him, I cared enough. I hadn't asked him if he was okay. I hadn't asked him how he felt. I hadn't made sure he wasn't drowning in a state of grief just like I was. I hated to admit it, but I'd been thinking about myself most of the time, even when I thought I wasn't.

Cory's death caused me to distance myself. I knew that. John told me that. But I hadn't realized just how distant I was being. The last time he brought it up was the night I found Mary. I wished we would have talked more about it. Instead, it all boiled down to this.

I sighed and caressed the bunny Evelyn had given me with my thumb, pressing it closer to my chest. "Sherman." I snickered at the name.

I couldn't stop thinking about it since she'd given it to me. Would Rosemary like it? Maybe if she grew up with it, she'd adore it. But only time would tell. Damn, she was about two or three months from her due date. Lately, I couldn't tell the days apart. I'd been losing track of everything, including my own sanity.

Sighing again, I pried John's arms from around my waist as carefully as I could. There was no need to disturb him. A long day had gone by for both of us and he deserved to sleep. Shoot, I did too, but I couldn't. Every time my eyes closed, they shot back open.

"Daddy was right. Mommy is too stressed," I whispered to Rosemary.

I sat myself crisscross on the floor, laying the bunny beside me, and reached under the bed for my painting materials. I then leaned back against the bed again. The pencil felt limp in my hand but I kept a firm grip and placed it to the large canvas.

I wasn't sure what I was even sketching. I drew whatever my mind pictured. So far, there were just lines that curved and connected. That was always how a doodle started. I wished the missing thirteen's case was as easy as lines. Doable, connectable—something as easy as one, two, three.

"Mommy can't wait to see you, you know Rosemary. She may not seem like she does all the time but the truth is, mommy is just scared. Yeah . . . she's very scared." My movements slowed. "You'll be the first being she's ever had to take care of someone other than herself. You could only imagine how scared mommy is."

Whenever I thought about Mary, I was scared. When I thought about Helena I was scared. When I thought about every missing child in the world, I couldn't help but just be scared. No matter how hard I tried to stop the negative thoughts, they always spiraled.

I gave my cheeks a soft slap and continued sketching.

All thirteen girls were almost found, but it still felt like Mary and I had gotten nowhere. We hadn't found the person who did it. We hadn't found out who the mystery man was. Could that have been what Mary wanted all along? To just find their bones. I wasn't sure what peace that would have brought except laying them to rest.

"Babe," John's sleepy voice rasped. "Where are you?"

The mattress shook as his arm stretched across the bed, searching for me. I turned my head to spare him a glance. When he felt nothing, he lifted his head, eyes squinting through the dark room.

"What are you doing?" he murmured.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted.

He rolled over and rested his chin on my shoulder. "Mhmm, that looks nice."

"You think so?" I smiled.

"Of course. What are you going to do with it when you're finished?"

"Hmm, I don't know. I wasn't thinking about that. Just drawing for now." I tapped my chin, my smile widening. "Maybe I'll make it personal and give it to Lucinda."

"I think that's a good idea." He sat up on his elbow, resting the side of his face against his hand.

"Then I just might do that." I chuckled and went back to sketching.

The night fell quiet again, with John hovering over me as I drew. He hummed to himself and dragged his fingers along the edge of my shoulder. My smile didn't go away until he stopped.

"Hey, what do these initials stand for?" John asked. I wasn't sure what he meant until his arm reached over my shoulder. He picked up the bunny and leaned back. I turned to find his finger tracing along its back slowly.

"Oh, it's probably just a watermark or something engraved by whoever made it." I shrugged.

"I don't think so. This looks like it was written with a permanent marker. E.A.D.? Is that someone's name or something?"

"Huh? Let me see," I said.

When he handed it over, I looked closely at the initials. Sure enough, E.A.D. was written in small, neat handwriting on the back of the bunny with black sharpie. Huh, that was odd. I hadn't even noticed that when Evelyn first gave me the bunny. Her grandfather had distracted me. And I hadn't bothered giving the bunny a thorough inspection.

"Maybe Evelyn's initials? You said Evelyn's grandmother passed it on to her, didn't you?" He shrugged and stretched on his back.

"Yeah, but Evelyn's last name is Gomez. So, there'd be a G in there somewhere."

"Oh." He stroked his chin. "Just ask her about when you see her next time then? It's probably nothing serious."

I nodded, rubbing my thumb across the initials one more time. "I will."