Cut to the Bone (Body Farm 8)

“Huh.” I half laughed, half grunted. “They teach you guys mind reading in seminary?”

“No, it’s probably better they don’t. I’d be afraid of what I’d find out.” He leaned back in his chair, a high-backed swivel rocker, and tented his fingers, the same way my boss, the dean, tended to. “It takes courage to confront the dark side of life on a daily basis. Not many people are up to it. I’m not sure I would be.”

“Thing is,” I said, “some days it’s more daily than others. Lately… ” My words trailed off, and I waited for him to jump in with a question or some shepherdly counsel or comfort. Instead, he just sat there, his eyes attentive above the finger tent. I backed up and took another run at it. “Lately, though, it feels extra daily. And darker. Much darker.” He nodded, still waiting. “I worked a double homicide yesterday in East Knox County. Two bodies in the woods. The man, he died almost instantly; no suffering to speak of, except on the part of the wife he left behind. But the woman? She died slowly. In agony. The guy who killed her did unspeakable things to her.” I paused, unsure where to go next. Surprisingly, I went to Tyler. “My graduate assistant worked the scene with me. Smart, good-hearted kid. Name’s Tyler. Tyler threw up when he saw what had been done to the woman. I’m not sure Tyler’s ‘up to it,’ as you put it.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, if he’s not.”

“I know he doesn’t owe it to me to follow in my footsteps, though I’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t. But that’s not what’s eating at me.”

“What is eating at you?”

“Tyler said something today that I can’t get out of my head.”

“What’d he say?”

“Actually, it was his girlfriend who said it. Or maybe his ex-girlfriend. Roxanne. After he told her about the woman in the woods, Roxanne left in the middle of the night, while he was sleeping. No note; no phone call. The last thing she said — pardon my French — was ‘Why are men such shits to women?’ Tyler didn’t have an answer. I don’t have an answer.” I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “Do you have an answer?”

* * *

Kathleen was loading the dishwasher when I got in. “We waited for a while, then finally gave up,” she said, not looking up from the dishes. “Where’ve you been? Why didn’t you call?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I got sidetracked on the way home. I thought it would only take a few minutes. Ended up taking an hour.”

“Would’ve been nice if you’d found a way to call. Jeff brought Jenny for dinner.”

“Jenny?”

“Jenny. The artist. His new girlfriend.” Her tone was sharp.

“I know who she is. I just didn’t know she was coming to dinner. I didn’t see them down in the rec room. They’re not making out in his room, I hope.”

“They’re gone,” she said peevishly. “They left ten minutes ago. If you’d called to say you were on your way, I expect they’d have waited.”

“I’m sorry, Kathleen. Really sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.”

“Where were you?” she repeated. “What were you doing?” She turned to face me for the first time, her eyes narrowing. “Are you having an affair?”

I burst into laughter — a mistake, apparently, because she threw the wet dish towel at me. I kept laughing. “I’m sorry, hon,” I said. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… I was talking to a minister. I stopped by church on the way home.”

“What church? Our church?” I nodded. “Whatever for?”

“Long story,” I said.

“Obviously.” She hipped the dishwasher door closed — with more energy than the job required — and turned to face me, motioning to a pair of chairs at the kitchen table. “Spill it. I’m all ears.” She was still peeved, but she was intrigued now, and that seemed like progress.

The night before, I’d spared her the grisly details of the death scene in the woods. Now I told her a bit more, and then told her about Roxanne’s sudden departure, and the bitter question she’d posed to Tyler. “It’s been bugging me all day. So I stopped to see if Mike might have some insight.”

She stared a

t me from across the table. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were hoping a theologian could solve the conjoined-twin problems of evil and misogyny in a five-minute, oh-by-the-way mini-lecture?” I shrugged sheepishly; I hadn’t gone into his study with such a clearly articulated and clearly ludicrous agenda, but she’d summed it up pretty well. “Honestly, Bill, you do put the idiot in idiot savant sometimes.”

“You know,” I began, in feeble protest. But I didn’t have a leg to stand on, and we both knew it. “It’s true,” I conceded, shaking my head. “You’re right. Absolutely, utterly right.” She smiled then, reaching across the table to give my hand a squeeze. One of the things I appreciated most about Kathleen was her readiness to forgive, to let go of a grievance at the first sign of contrition.

“And what words of wisdom and divine insight did the Right Reverend Michaelson impart while your steak was turning to shoe leather?”

“Steak? I missed steak?”

“On the grill. Grilled potatoes, too.”

“Ah, man,” I moaned. “My favorite dinner? I can’t believe I missed it. Proof positive that the devil is alive and well. Messing with the world in general and me in particular.”

“Maybe it’s not beyond redemption.”

“The world?”

“The steak. I pulled it off while it was still medium rare. Believe it or not, it no longer surprises me when you’re late for dinner.”

“You’re an angel,” I said. “And the age of miracles is not yet over.”

“I’ll fix you a plate if you’ll tell me what Mike had to say.” She scooted back from the table, went to the fridge, and began pulling out Tupperware containers.

“I’m not sure I can remember all the details.”

“Then give me the Cliffs Notes version.”

“Here’s the Cliffs Notes version: ‘It’s complicated.’ ”

She frowned across the plate of steak and potatoes. “I think I’ll give this to the dog next door. Because that’s not complicated; it’s simple, and the dog will adore me.”