“They had unity necklaces. That’s mostly a girl or a couple thing, and kind of on the young side for men.”
“He put Monty’s in here, so he put his in here. That way he could keep them, hidden away, but together. Stanch some of the guilt maybe, symbolize cleansing; we’ll let Mira chew on that one. Bag it.”
Peabody took the pendant, set down the bucket. “Aren’t you going to take the stones out?”
“Let me just . . . got it. And that’s the set.”
She held up the second half with MONTY inscribed on one side and FOREVER on the other.
“Names on the fronts, ‘brothers forever’ on the backs. United, coming and going. But he couldn’t make himself wear his, not after what was done. He couldn’t allow his brother to keep his. But Jones would always know they were here. He could sit in here, think of his brother, tell himself what he’d done had been for the best.”
“It’s sad, when you think about it.”
“Maybe it’s sad, but it’s also stupid. Real responsibility means doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. Dealing with his brother himself, one way or the other? That’s self-indulgence. It’s stealing a dog.”
“A dog? Oh, like DeWinter and Bones. Okay, but the dog’s really happy.”
“The dog could’ve been just as happy if the situation had been dealt with properly, by the rules of law. And something’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“Something to represent the sisters.” She went back to digging through the stones. “And wouldn’t he also feel responsible for the cousin? Wouldn’t he think I sent him to his death, or something like that? He’d need to . . .”
As she dug, her eyes tracked to the plaque:
In Loving Memory of
Montclair Jones
Beloved Brother of
Selma, Nashville, and Philadelphia
He lives in our hearts.
“‘He lives,’” Eve muttered. “Take that plaque off the wall.”
“You want the plaque off the wall?” Scratching her nose, Peabody studied it. “It’s screwed on. I need to get—”
“Quilla,” Eve said, barely raising her voice.
The girl poked her head in. “I was just—”
“Never mind that. Get me a screwdriver thing.”
“I’m on that!”
“This is just adding weight,” Eve said as she gave up and started scooping out the wet stones into the bucket. “It’s not telling us where Jones is, or confirming his brother’s alive.”
“I’ve got one!” Quilla raced in, a battery-operated screwdriver in her hand. “Can I do it?”
“No. Peabody.”
“Why don’t you hold the screws when I take them out?” With a humming whirl, Peabody set bit on screw.
“How come you want to take it off the wall? It’s been up there forever. Matron’s going to have six baskets of kittens when she sees what you’ve done in here. How come you—”
“Quiet. I might forget you’re in here where you’re not supposed to be if you’re fricking quiet.”