Chapter Nineteen
Ash and Bone
“Oliver, I need yourhelp,” Felipe began the moment they stepped onto the curb in front of the Paranormal Society. Even though it was past midnight, Felipe was wide awake, and if the curious gleam in Oliver’s eye was any indication, he was too. If they were going to take down the institute, they needed to strike before they could mobilize. “When we get inside, I need to develop the photographs we took. Get together any evidence you and Ansley found and start writing a report. I have bones and a bullet in my bag I need you to process. We need enough proof for a search warrant and a writ to remove Joe from the institute, and we need to bring it to the head inspector as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
“Absolutely not, Galvan. This ismycase,” Ansley replied, running around the front of the steamer to catch up with them before they reached the steps. “If you jeopardize the Federal Branch’s case—”
When Ansley’s hand closed around Felipe’s arm, it took every ounce of self-control for Felipe to quietly turn instead of knocking the sneer from his lips. At the look on Felipe’s face, Ansley let go and took a step back. He stared down at his ashy palm and wiped it across the front of his bag with a grimace. Felipe’s jaw clenched and his hands shook at his sides as everything he had ignored for the past week came rumbling to the surface.
“I don’t give a fuck about the Federal Branch’s case,” Felipe yelled, not caring if he woke up the whole damn street. “They arekillingpeople. I found bones in the incinerator. I am covered in the ashes of people like us, Ansley, so go ahead, tell me how fraud or whatever you’re doing is more important than those murdered people’s lives or Joe’s. Because he’s next if we don’t stop them, and I am not having an informant killed on my watch if I can help it.”
Turning on heel, Felipe strode to the door with Oliver at his side. They were halfway across the empty foyer when Ansley growled, “If you do this, Galvan, I’ll report you.”
“Go ahead. I don’t fucking care.”
Before Ansley could retort, Oliver slipped his arm around Felipe’s shoulders and steered him toward the basement stairs. The film development room was on the third floor, but Felipe didn’t argue as he followed Oliver. His spent anger and cooled adrenaline pooled into a headache directly behind his eyes, and by the time they reached the lab, pain had spread through Felipe’s tired muscles and fractured hand. A pang of concern drifted across the tether as Oliver unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Oliver’s grey gaze roamed over Felipe’s form with a frown as he untangled the bag from his shoulders and carefully set it on the bench before disappearing into the closet without a word. With an aching hand, Felipe winced as he pulled out the envelope of bone, now slightly more fragmented, along with his camera and the bullet. As he attempted to unload the Kodak’s film onehanded, Oliver reappeared carrying a stack of fresh clothes and towels.
“Go shower. I’ll set up what we need for the photographs.”
Felipe looked between his partner’s serious expression and the evidence littering the table. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to think. Heneededto keep going.
“I develop my own autopsy photographs, so I know what to do. I have all the equipment we need,” Oliver added as he prodded Felipe toward the shower, relieving him of his dusty tie and waistcoat along the way. “You are in no shape to touch any evidence. When you’re done, you can join me in the closet. Just make sure you turn off the lights in the lab before you come in and put your clothes in the bin by my desk.”
Gently kissing him, Oliver held his gaze with a tired frown. “I know you want to work, Felipe, but you need to take care of yourself first. I promise, we will get him out safely.”
Taking the pile of fabric from Oliver’s arms, Felipe nodded and chose to believe him.
***
BY THE TIME FELIPEcame out of the shower looking exhausted and worse for wear, Oliver had assembled the chemical baths and affixed his makeshift clothesline for drying the negatives and photographs across the racks in the closet. Together they prepped, dipped, and set them, wordlessly passing them from one to the other until every negative of the photographs he and Felipe had taken were drying. Oliver watched Felipe from the corner of his eye as he sat down to write an account of what he had seen with Joe in the boiler room. The lines of fatigue around his eyes had deepened and the pencil rattled in his hand every time he paused to think. His left hand had purpled and swollen, though when Oliver had asked about it, Felipe had murmured it was nothing and kept working. When more bruises bloomed on his face and arm, Oliver decided not to say anything. Convincing him to stop for the night would never work. All Oliver could do was support him and help mitigate the damage. He sent a note up the pneumatic tube to the kitchen and turned to the bones Felipe had taken from the institute.
“If we develop the most incriminating photographs first, we can probably have the report ready by six. That’s usually when Head Inspector Williams and Gale have breakfast, isn’t it?” Oliver said as he scraped some of the cremated bone fragments onto an oiled slide. Capping it with a cover, he slid it under the microscope and adjusted the focus until the lacunae and osteons became clear. “This is definitely bone, by the way. I’m sure Dr. Yates will claim it’s leftover bones from dinner and not human, but this is certainly not from a cow or a pig. You brought back a good selection of bones. The piece of pelvis is particularly useful.”
“Good,” Felipe replied with a heavy sigh. “So we know evidence was incinerated, and through Joe’s testimony at the Green Daisy, we know bodies were stuffed in whole or close to whole. But why kill people in the first place?”
“I would assume they’re covering up accidents or negligence. If it got out that the treatments killed people, they would have the policeandthe Paranormal Society knocking on their door. The safest thing to do was to make them disappear.”
“Like the Federal Branch’s informants.” Rubbing his eyes, Felipe yawned. “And that map thing. How does that fit into all of this? If Yates believes in ‘curing’ magic, is he planning on converting everyone or trying to start another witch hunt? At some point, they would turn on him. His family has powers. They must or he wouldn’t know about the society, and he wouldn’t be treating his niece for it.”
“Perhaps, he thinks his money and clinic can keep him safe. If he’s public in his disavowal and rich enough, they might overlook him.”
