Free The Bone Box by Gregg Olsen Page A

still stunned by the disclosure that someone else had been at the crime scene. “Not really,” she said. “I’ll listen more carefully.”
    Pat-Stan nodded. “I want you to follow along with your transcription, okay? You are missing something.”
    â€œMissing something?”
    â€œListen carefully. There’s a hiss on the tape just as he says it.”
    â€œAll right.”
    The tape resumed.
    â€œI ran out of the cabin and hurried down the trail where my cousin Birdy found me. I don’t know why I picked up the knife, but I threw it away before Birdy came up to me.”
    â€œStop, please.”
    The former detective pushed the button, her finger hovering to advance the tape once more.
    â€œHe said that he threw it away, before he saw me.”
    â€œThat’s what he said.”
    â€œBut when I read the report, it indicated that the knife had been recovered from the cabin.”
    â€œI don’t recall that, but all right. What does it matter where it was found?”
    â€œIt matters to me. Not so much where, but by who?”
    â€œThat’s easy. Detective Derby found it.”

C HAPTER T EN
    Jim Derby’s house commanded the edge of a hill overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca, an always choppy passage that divides Washington from British Columbia. It was a big house with shingled siding and a river rock chimney. Atop its second story was a widow’s walk framed by ornate ironwork. It was the kind of place that drive-bys admire and covet.
    Pitched in the front yard was a campaign sign as big as a car: THE DERBY WINNER YOU WANT.
    Birdy parked and walked up the long cobblestone path. She wondered how a sheriff could afford such a place. A congressman, yes. They had a zillion ways to earn a fortune through sweetheart deals made when their constituents were home dealing with the real-life problems of their respective districts.
    She knocked and Jim Derby opened the door.
    â€œWhat do you want?” he asked, clearly not happy to see her. “It’s late.”
    â€œI think you know why I’m here, Sheriff.” Her tone was flat, without emotion. Her eyes stared hard at him. He had to know why she was there. It wasn’t a social call.
    â€œIt sounds like you’re threatening me,” he said.
    Witch hazel scented the air.
    â€œAre you going to invite me in or are we going to have this conversation out here where the neighbors might hear?” she asked, refusing to yield to fear.
    Jim Derby looked warily over the hedge next door. A light beamed from the porch.
    â€œCome in,” he said.
    â€œWho’s there?” a woman’s voice called as Birdy followed the sheriff into a living room that had been turned into campaign central. Mailers, bumper stickers, and yard signs blanketed the coffee table, the sofa, and a credenza that ran the length of a bay window that overlooked the Strait.
    â€œNo one, Lydia,” he said calling into the hallway. “Just a staffer.”
    â€œAll right then,” she said.
    He turned back to Birdy. “My wife doesn’t need to hear this. I made a few phone calls after you left. I know what you’re up to. I just don’t know why. I’m guessing that someone from the other side is trying to smear me. I get it. That happens. Don’t be used. Despite Tommy being a family member, you and I are on the same team.”
    â€œAre we? My team doesn’t frame people for murders they didn’t commit.”
    â€œYou better back off, Ms. Waterman,” he said.
    â€œDoctor,” she shot back.
    He looked flustered, maybe for the first time ever. “Fine, Doctor, back off. No one framed anyone. Are you working for the Democrats or not? Is this about hurting my chances for reelection?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “But it does give me a little bit of comfort knowing that what you did to my cousin and Anna Jo will stop you from winning the derby, as you like to