Jane arranged to meet Britt for a late lunch at a restaurant near the Skarsvold house. The temperature had plummeted in the last couple of hours. A storm was moving through, bringing snow, wind, and colder temperatures. Seven inches were predicted before morning.
Jane relaxed as she waited for Britt, sipping from a cup of tea while enjoying the sight of the fluffy white flakes burying her car across the street. Friends in other parts of the country often offered her humorous condolences for living in Minnesota. All that cold and snow, they’d say. How can you stand it? The fact was, Jane loved winter. She hated the heat and humidity of summer. Winter sun was beautiful, warming. Welcome. Summer sun oppressed her. Autumn was her favorite season, but winter wasn’t far behind. She liked early darkness, the shorter days. All her DNA came alive in winter.
She was on her second cup of tea when Britt came in the door, shaking snow out of her hair. Jane waved her over.
“Boy, it’s really coming down out there,” said Britt, shrugging out of her coat as she sat down. She rubbed her hands together. “I forgot to pack gloves.”
“Here,” said Jane, pulling a pair of mittens out of her coat pocket. “Take these. I’ve got another pair in my car.”
“Are you sure?”
She smiled. “How did your presentation go?”
“Good,” she said, shifting in her chair. “A lot of people came up afterward and wanted to talk. I think I raised more questions than I answered. It was kind of hard to get away.” She looked up as a waitress appeared with the menus. “Can I get a cup of coffee?” she asked. “Black.”
Jane glanced at the menu, scanning the sandwiches.
“So tell me what you’ve learned,” said Britt.
“Would you like to eat first?” She wasn’t sure how Britt would respond to her news.
“Why? Is it bad?”
Jane waited a beat. “The arson investigator discovered human bones in the garage. Specifically, two small bones.”
Britt’s eyes widened.
“There was apparently a root cellar toward the back of the garage. That’s where the body was buried.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“The police came by to talk to Eleanor and Lena last night. They consider the site a crime scene, and not just because they suspect arson.”
“Wait, wait,” said Britt. “You said, small bones? Like a child’s bones?”
“I asked the arson investigator about that. She said there are lots of small bones in a human body. Could be from a hand or a foot. Or, she did say it was possible the bones belonged to a child.”
The words appeared to hit Britt with the force of an express train. “You’re saying it could be Timmy?”
“It’s possible.”
The waitress set a cup of coffee in front of Britt. “Would you two ladies like to order?”
“Not yet,” said Jane. “Give us a couple more minutes.”
“You said the police talked to my aunts. What did they say? How did Eleanor and Lena explain it?”
“They couldn’t.”
“Or they wouldn’t.” She looked down, a scowl forming. “They’re lying, Jane. Just like they lied to me.”
“There was a crime scene unit working in the garage through the night.”
“Did they find anything?”
“As far as I could tell from my upstairs window, they were bagging up a fair amount.”
“I knew it,” she said under her breath. “They did something to him.” She shoved her chair back from the table.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? I don’t care if my aunts don’t want to see me again. I have to talk to them.”
“Britt, wait. We don’t have any proof that the bones belonged to your cousin. Let me do a little more digging before you approach them.”
“No,” she said flatly.
Jane stood, clutching her napkin. “Please, let’s talk about this first.”
Britt yanked her coat off the back of the chair and headed for the door.
Jane looked around for the waitress. Unable to locate her, she sat down and waited for her to come out from the kitchen. Growing impatient, she tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table and left. If Britt intended to accuse her aunts of murder, Jane wanted to be there. She figured the situation required a referee to prevent an explosion.
* * *
Eleanor was dusting the piano in the living room when the front doorbell chimed. “Britt,” she said, opening the door, a startled look on her face. “What a … nice surprise.”
Britt pushed past her. “Where’s Lena?”
“I’m right here,” said her aunt, rolling into the room. “I thought we made it clear that we have nothing more to say to you.”
Eleanor shot her sister a cautionary look. Be nice, she pleaded with her eyes.
“Why don’t you sit down, dear. I think the coffeepot is still on.”
“I don’t want any coffee. And I don’t want to sit.”
Eleanor was taken aback by her abrupt tone. “Is something wrong?”
“You tell me. I heard the arson investigator found bones in your garage. Human bones. A child’s bones.”
“No, no,” said Eleanor. “Who told you that?”
“Oh, great,” said Lena, pointing. “We have an audience.”
Eleanor hadn’t heard the door open, but when she looked around, she saw that one of the new renters had come in.
“This is a private conversation, Jane,” said Lena. “Feel free to leave.”
“No, stay,” said Britt. “I need a witness.”
“Britt, please,” said Eleanor. “I don’t know who’s been talking to you, but you’ve been given some misinformation.”
“You’re saying it’s not Timmy?”
Eleanor was so shocked by the accusation, she felt her legs begin to shake. Thinking they might give out on her, she sat down on the piano bench.
“Timmy who?” demanded Lena.
“Your son,” Britt all but screamed.
“I don’t have a son,” Lena yelled back.
Eleanor felt dizzy. She held on to the edges of bench, afraid she might fall off.
“Tell me the truth,” said Britt, her eyes fixed furiously on Lena. “Timmy was your son. I remember him. Vividly. When I was here on Sunday night, I found a picture he drew. I remembered him stuffing it into the baseboard in your den and that’s where I found it. He signed his name. That’s proof.” She switched her gaze to Eleanor. “The only reason I can think of that you’re lying to me is because he died and you covered it up. You buried his body in the garage. What I don’t know is how he died.”
“You’re insane,” muttered Lena. “A drawing isn’t proof of anything.”
“But bones are,” said Britt.
Eleanor was drowning. She had to force herself to breathe.
“You think I won’t go to the police with this?” demanded Britt.
“Do whatever the hell you want,” said Lena, rolling her wheelchair backward out of the room. “But don’t come back here ever again.”
As Britt whirled around, Eleanor looked helplessly into her niece’s cold, angry eyes.
“How did he die?” asked Britt. “Can’t you give me that much?”
Summoning all her strength, Eleanor replied, “I know you won’t believe me, but this Timmy you’re talking about, he never existed. Those aren’t his bones. I’m sorry. There’s nothing more I can say.”
Her niece’s eyes had turned into two tiny slits of hate. “Fine,” she said. “I shouldn’t have expected anything from either of you. My mistake. Just know that, one way or the other, I’ll find the truth, even if it sends both of you to prison for the rest of your miserable lives.”