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Bone Box
Faye Kellerman
The gripping new crime novel in the Peter Decker and Rina Lazarus series from New York Times bestselling author Faye Kellerman.They thought the murders were over.But now there’s a new victim…On a crisp September morning in the woods of upstate New York, Rina Decker stumbles upon human remains. She calls her husband, Peter, a former detective lieutenant with LAPD. Within hours, the forest is transformed into a frenetic crime scene.As Decker and his partner, Tyler McAdams, further investigate, they realize they’re most likely dealing with a missing student from the Five Colleges of Upstate.And when more bodies are found in the same area, Decker and McAdams know this isn’t just a one-off murder case. Now they must race to protect their community from a psychopathic killer still in the area – and on the hunt for a fresh victim.
Copyright (#ulink_63cba7f5-8017-5d63-810c-ce29e1901dab)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
First published in the USA in 2017 by
William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
Copyright © Plot Line, Inc. 2017
Cover design by Cherie Chapman © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover photographs © Tony Watson/Arcangel Images (http://www.arcangel.com) (forest);
Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (extra leaves, muddy hole)
Faye Kellerman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008148867
Ebook Edition © Feb 2017 ISBN: 9780008148850
Version: 2017-07-05
Dedication (#ulink_b53b0c56-f22c-5ec8-8aad-2ea9a9e127e8)
To Lila, Oscar, Eva, Judah, and welcoming Masha
And as always, to Jonathan
Contents
Cover (#u1bc9ba9a-7f0c-5796-92ea-2b051a01de24)
Title Page (#u1b1c1ec5-5188-5b27-a2e6-590667a6a0d0)
Copyright (#u39e42011-26d5-5343-b5c0-b4ef21cfb51b)
Dedication (#u9a74da6c-6804-5de4-823e-443815fbc5b8)
Chapter One (#ue3cbeb17-d419-5cca-9860-1ffe30820bd4)
Chapter Two (#ub8e17b92-4690-5f43-a135-887dbefe3016)
Chapter Three (#ub8e04039-e0d9-5722-8172-e1cd1242fb29)
Chapter Four (#uba95963f-ac47-5690-93ec-4a6348db0232)
Chapter Five (#u2905e091-3a14-55a6-9c0d-28219b0123d3)
Chapter Six (#u418a4d96-5bdc-5383-8829-e101d347d59c)
Chapter Seven (#udb1a4b38-f6e1-5fff-8051-420f999654f0)
Chapter Eight (#u87b1fff0-549b-5508-9bcd-a05419ff757e)
Chapter Nine (#uf55b90da-4130-5813-9b95-c2271e0df013)
Chapter Ten (#u78888e4c-5d5d-547a-8a6e-13212805e074)
Chapter Eleven (#ud019d6d7-8b2e-5700-ba75-dc51765fcbb9)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
About Faye Kellerman (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Faye Kellerman (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_ab00ebe2-1316-5703-9afd-de4e9d57bd88)
The eye sees what it wants to see—and sometimes more.
Late summer in Upstate New York was glorious: warm but not hot with humidity kept in check. Deep in the woods, the sky was a blazing blue through the canopy of green trees with singing birds and humming insects, brilliant enough to turn the most curmudgeonly into optimistic fools. Rina stopped on the trail, breathing in air that would soon turn cool then cold. Back in Los Angeles, she would have never attempted a solo hike, but Greenbury was a small town, and somehow that made it feel safe.
Wearing a backpack, she made sure to keep to the trail. Cellular reception was spotty at best and as she walked deeper into the forest, it all but disappeared. The temperature dropped a few degrees and the vegetation turned thicker. Some of the oaks and maples were hinting at the fall colors to come; autumn was her favorite time of year. As she walked through the woods, she marveled at the way the light sparkled against the ground, the contrast between sun and shade. The stunning displays of nature were providing her with many Ansel Adams moments. Why not take advantage?
She took off her backpack, fished out her phone and a bag of camera attachments. One thing that was great about a phone was the nearly limitless amount of photographs she could take and delete and take again.
Having walked the trail about a half-dozen times, Rina was familiar with the terrain. Every time she shot photos along Bogat, she tried to pick out something new. Last month had been insects; she’d captured over a hundred snapshots of beetles, spiders, butterflies, and other winged creatures. Today she was aiming bigger, specifically for the magnificent, majestic trees and the interplay between light and dark. She found just what she was looking for in the form of a giant, old oak—a huge trunk with leaves shimmering in a gentle breeze, a thousand facets of broken light like the sun reflected off a lapping lake. Trouble was the oak was some distance away off-trail. Although she had a zoom lens, she wanted up-close-and-personal shots.
It isn’t that far away, she told herself. Go for it.
Taking out an old-fashioned compass, she made a note of her coordinates. It was very easy to get disoriented in the woods. Everything was green and lush and looked the same even if you were paying attention. But she was emboldened because as she walked closer to the oak, there was a clearing and some phone reception.
Off-trail, she had to be particularly careful about falling. Tree roots were thick and rocks abounded. As she inched forward, she looked around until she found a great spot to set up. She stepped forward and backward to get the ideal frame, the forest floor beneath her feet feeling spongy. Odd because it had been at least a few weeks since it had rained.
She took a giant stride backward to zero in on the tree and felt a sudden snap under her foot. At first, when she looked down, she thought she had stepped on a twig. Then she realized it was something different and in her confusion, it took a few seconds to register.
A skeletal hand with human fingers.
It had been several hours since she had eaten, but her stomach lurched and her gut felt leaden. Her head went light as her heart started pumping full force. She managed to stay upright, but she was finding it hard to breathe. Talking herself off the ledge.
Old bones, Rina. No one is here. You’re safe.
She brought her hands to her mouth and tried to calm down.
Go back to the trail.
Don’t run. Walk.
Then she heard her husband’s voice in her head.
But … first document this.
The attachment was already on.
It was easier to look at the horror through the filter of a lens. She snapped pictures not only of the hand but also of the surrounding area. She was feeling more and more anxious, so she stopped. Stowing the camera attachment, she took out her phone. Her husband’s mobile went straight to voice mail.
She took out the compass, slowly making her way down the hillside and back to the trailhead. As she walked, she kept trying her phone.
No reception.
Okay. At least you’re on the trail.
Keep going, keep going.
Don’t run. Walk.
