chews on me.” Kyle tossed a bowl of pretzels on the table and slumped in a chair. He drained his beer in two gulps, belched loudly, and punched a number on his cell. Sky could hear a female’s manic greeting followed by a barrage of unintelligible chatter. Kyle simply listened.
Axelrod sat down across the table from Sky and stared at her with owl eyes. “You don’t look much like your father.”
“No,” Sky agreed. “I favor my mother.”
“Is she in law enforcement?”
“No. She’s an archeologist. Excavating a site in Turkey.” Sky tried to imagine what her mother was doing this very moment. Probably hunched over some ancient mosaic with a watercolor brush in one hand and a dental pick in the other.
“An archaeologist and an FBI agent? That’s unusual parentage.” Axelrod blinked at her with earnest curiosity. “Do you mind if I ask how they met?”
Ordinarily, Sky evaded this sort of request. Maybe it was the isolation she felt, watching the lovers at the next table. Any contact at all, even if it was only answering this rookie’s nosy questions, was better than nothing.
“My parents met in South Dakota. Pine Ridge Reservation. Monk flew in by helicopter during a dust-up with the American Indian Movement. My mother happened to be there doing field research. Contemporary pottery styles of the Oglala Sioux.”
“You grew up in South Dakota?” Axelrod seemed confused.
“Sort of. I lived on the reservation with my mother while she did research. Monk’s parents lived in Iowa City, my folks had a house there, too. So I lived there part of the time. Summers and Christmases were always spent in Boston. With my maternal grandmother.”
Sky watched Axelrod absorb this information. She could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“A nomadic childhood.” He nodded, as though adding to some internal dossier. “Do you have siblings?”
“No. I spent a lot of time with the grandson of my mother’s source on Pine Ridge. Elwood Two Dogs. He and I … well, we’re close.”
Sky thought about Elwood. They’d come of age together, learned how to smoke cigarettes together, even hotwired an abandoned car one spring night to prowl the reservation’s dirt roads. “Elwood is family,” she added.
“Native American influence.” Axelrod nodded. “Interesting.”
Sky found the rookie’s intensity a bit unnerving. “Eat a pretzel, Axelrod.” She pushed the bowl toward him and noticed that he hadn’t touched his beer. He really was a boy scout. Maybe that explained why she’d told him about her childhood. She wasn’t usually so forthcoming with virtual strangers.
Talking about Elwood brought on a sense of longing so sudden and intense that Sky surprised herself by standing up.
“I have to see someone,” she announced.
The detectives just stared at her.
“I’ll meet you guys at Madeleine Fisk’s place in one hour. Don’t be late.” Sky left the startled men behind and walked out of Grendel’s.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sky crossed JFK and doubled back to buy a fifth of Stoli at DOMA before heading east toward Harvard University. She clutched the bottle of vodka under her arm like a football and hunched into a biting headwind. The trench coat twisted and snapped around her legs.
Purple clouds scudded across a gray sky. She crossed Winthrop Street and pushed past Raven Used Books, past the Red Line subway stairs in Harvard Square.
Sky pulled her cell out and scrolled to Elwood’s number. It was always a throw of the dice, trying to get in touch with Elwood. After a stint in Iraq with special ops, he’d come back something of a loner, traveling around the country as opportunity allowed. She punched Elwood’s number. On the thirteenth ring, he answered.
“Big Sky.” Elwood’s warm voice wrapped around her like a hug. “What’s up, little sister?”
“Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice.” Sky bumped into a woman in front of the subway kiosk, prompting the woman to shove
Axelrod sat down across the table from Sky and stared at her with owl eyes. “You don’t look much like your father.”
“No,” Sky agreed. “I favor my mother.”
“Is she in law enforcement?”
“No. She’s an archeologist. Excavating a site in Turkey.” Sky tried to imagine what her mother was doing this very moment. Probably hunched over some ancient mosaic with a watercolor brush in one hand and a dental pick in the other.
“An archaeologist and an FBI agent? That’s unusual parentage.” Axelrod blinked at her with earnest curiosity. “Do you mind if I ask how they met?”
Ordinarily, Sky evaded this sort of request. Maybe it was the isolation she felt, watching the lovers at the next table. Any contact at all, even if it was only answering this rookie’s nosy questions, was better than nothing.
“My parents met in South Dakota. Pine Ridge Reservation. Monk flew in by helicopter during a dust-up with the American Indian Movement. My mother happened to be there doing field research. Contemporary pottery styles of the Oglala Sioux.”
“You grew up in South Dakota?” Axelrod seemed confused.
“Sort of. I lived on the reservation with my mother while she did research. Monk’s parents lived in Iowa City, my folks had a house there, too. So I lived there part of the time. Summers and Christmases were always spent in Boston. With my maternal grandmother.”
Sky watched Axelrod absorb this information. She could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“A nomadic childhood.” He nodded, as though adding to some internal dossier. “Do you have siblings?”
“No. I spent a lot of time with the grandson of my mother’s source on Pine Ridge. Elwood Two Dogs. He and I … well, we’re close.”
Sky thought about Elwood. They’d come of age together, learned how to smoke cigarettes together, even hotwired an abandoned car one spring night to prowl the reservation’s dirt roads. “Elwood is family,” she added.
“Native American influence.” Axelrod nodded. “Interesting.”
Sky found the rookie’s intensity a bit unnerving. “Eat a pretzel, Axelrod.” She pushed the bowl toward him and noticed that he hadn’t touched his beer. He really was a boy scout. Maybe that explained why she’d told him about her childhood. She wasn’t usually so forthcoming with virtual strangers.
Talking about Elwood brought on a sense of longing so sudden and intense that Sky surprised herself by standing up.
“I have to see someone,” she announced.
The detectives just stared at her.
“I’ll meet you guys at Madeleine Fisk’s place in one hour. Don’t be late.” Sky left the startled men behind and walked out of Grendel’s.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sky crossed JFK and doubled back to buy a fifth of Stoli at DOMA before heading east toward Harvard University. She clutched the bottle of vodka under her arm like a football and hunched into a biting headwind. The trench coat twisted and snapped around her legs.
Purple clouds scudded across a gray sky. She crossed Winthrop Street and pushed past Raven Used Books, past the Red Line subway stairs in Harvard Square.
Sky pulled her cell out and scrolled to Elwood’s number. It was always a throw of the dice, trying to get in touch with Elwood. After a stint in Iraq with special ops, he’d come back something of a loner, traveling around the country as opportunity allowed. She punched Elwood’s number. On the thirteenth ring, he answered.
“Big Sky.” Elwood’s warm voice wrapped around her like a hug. “What’s up, little sister?”
“Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice.” Sky bumped into a woman in front of the subway kiosk, prompting the woman to shove
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