Author's Note: I took some liberties with the information gleaned from a single bone. Forensic people can determine someone's sex, but usually need a skull or pelvis for that. I couldn't track down specific data on whether DNA could be retrieved from bones and used to determine the sex of the person; but I think the technology exists, so I let Chang use it. Age can be roughly determined from a leg bone, based on growth plates. So, just be aware that most of my forensic info was gleaned from watching CSI and Bones, and doing some internet research. I'm FAR from an expert on the subject, but I like to think I understand the basic concept.
"Jacob has been brooding for days, despondent over the loss of his best friend, and his involvement. I fear that he'll do something drastic, either out of despair, or a sense of guilt. But it was an accident...simply a tragic turn of events. Young men, in the heat of passion, often act unwisely. And this was not the first time they'd come to blows over pretty Annabelle. Who could have known their argument would escalate to such a drastic end? But Jacob is all I have left, and I will not let him ruin his life by confessing to the unintentional consequences of his actions..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 19
Vindication
Trowa got back in the car, and turned an accusing look on Heero. "You didn't tell me Quatre Winner was fucking gorgeous!"
Heero blinked at him, and then pursed his lips to keep from openly smirking. "Well, unlike you, I wouldn't try to shove anyone into a relationship by dangling a beautiful guy in front of them. I'd let them make their own observations."
Green eyes narrowed. "You made your own observations about the mailman. Thigh-length hair and an attitude--? He sounded exactly like your kind of guy."
"And why would that be?"
"Hm...let's see. Your last boyfriend wore a ponytail and had an attitude the size of the continental U.S."
Heero's eyes narrowed in turn. "And that turned out ever so well, didn't it? Don't you think I might be looking for something different this time?"
"You aren't even looking!"
"Why should I be? You keep doing it for me!"
"Well you might've returned the favor and clued me in about that blonde angel in there a bit sooner!"
Heero stopped, and then suddenly burst out laughing. "Are you really bitching me out because I didn't drag you to the post office sooner? Seriously?"
"Yes! And to add insult to injury, you let me wear this stupid thing!" Trowa blurted, tugging at his tee shirt, an old, faded favorite, with "clowns taste funny" across the front.
Heero's laughter redoubled. "Your physical therapist thought it was hilarious."
"Yes, but she wasn't a blonde-haired angel I wanted to make a good impression on."
"You didn't care what impression you made until you saw him," Heero pointed out. "And if you recall, after I'd gone to the post office to complain, I did mention there was an attractive blonde postmaster."
"That was an understatement."
"You thought my description of Duo was an understatement."
"Notice a pattern, do you?" came a tart response.
"Yes. You're easily impressed."
"And you're--impossible!"
"Oh, touch¨¦," Heero said dryly.
When they got home shortly thereafter, Trowa immediately hobbled off to do laundry, while Heero resumed working on the upstairs bedrooms, figuring that eventually his roommate would be able to negotiate stairs without benefit of crutches and would want to claim one for himself. The room he currently occupied downstairs could then be converted to an office.
Of course, while he cleaned, his mind drifted--first exploring options for how to find more bones, once his belief that the first had been human was confirmed, and then moving on to which rooms needed what sort of improvements, and finally drifting back to the long-haired mailman Trowa kept harping on.
Yes, the man was good-looking; that wasn't even in doubt. And it was unfathomable that he didn't have a significant other in his life. There had to be someone--maybe the nice blonde postmaster. After all, they'd been grocery shopping together, and shared a house. Who's to say they didn't share more than that?
Although...if they did, they had a funny way of acting like a couple. Duo had commented on Trowa's looks, and if Heero didn't know better, he'd have sworn Quatre had been flirting with him a bit in the grocery store.
Great. How ironic would it be? Trowa was interested in the blonde. If Duo was interested in Trowa, and Quatre had his sights set on Heero--what a mess!
Heero found himself scowling as he scrubbed yet another hearth, and wondering if he should just flat-out tell Trowa he had no interest in Duo, but thought the mailman had a little crush on the green-eyed man.
Of course, that would be an outright lie; or at least a partial one. He did think Duo was somewhat interested in Trowa.
But as for Heero not wanting Duo? Yeah, that was untrue.
"Ugh," Heero groaned, slapping his forehead. When the fuck had that happened? When had he begun to find the braided man--interesting?
Duo was nothing like Heero's last boyfriend, as far as he could tell, except in the ways Trowa had noted. The Japanese man's impression of the mailman was that he was emotional and demonstrative; quick to anger, and yet quick to crack a joke. He seemed to go from one extreme to another. Yet he had a kind heart, under it all; he'd brought Thor home wrapped in a blanket in the back seat of his Jeep, and acted like it was just something anyone would've done.
But it wasn't that which intrigued Heero the most; it was the hint of vulnerability he'd glimpsed while standing in that grocery store. There'd been the bruised face, of course, which made the indigo eyes look that much larger and more innocent. And then, Duo had gone to the trouble to thank him for interfering in the altercation at the convenience store.
Something during that conversation had tugged at Heero, and made him want to ask why the two bullies were fixated on Duo, and what made them think they could get away with it. The girl at the store had made it sound like it was commonplace for them to accost the braided man in public. And for some reason, knowing that fact made Heero want to track them down and rip their heads off.
Since when had he become the overprotective type? He didn't think of himself that way, in spite of his former occupation, and the way he was currently taking care of Trowa. It didn't feel like he was protecting Trowa--just taking care of him while he recovered. Duo, on the other hand, he wanted to protect. He wanted to seek out and destroy anyone who'd ever tormented the good-looking young man.
"Jesus," he muttered. "He's not a damsel in distress, Yuy. Get a grip!"
He had a feeling Duo would not thank him for the "damsel" comment, even if it was just for reference.
"Heero? You gonna be up there all day?" Trowa called from the foot of the stairs. "I made some supper."
"I'll be right down."
"And who were you talking to?"
Shit--he'd heard?
Heero thought fast. "The squirrels!" he quipped sarcastically. "I think we missed a few."
He heard his roommate's laugh echo up into the hallway. "You were talking to yourself again, weren't you?"
"What if I was?"
"Well, say that next time. Talking to squirrels sounds way crazier than talking to yourself--which is something everyone does at some point."
"Fine. I was talking to myself." Heero put down his cleaning equipment and dusted himself off, before heading down to eat whatever Trowa had prepared.
The auburn-haired man was already in the kitchen, moving around on one crutch with practiced ease. "Grab the salad out of the fridge, would ya?"
Heero did as he was asked, setting the bowl in the middle of the table.
Of course, there was an immediate flutter of wings, and the big grey parrot landed on the back of a chair. "Tasty!" he crooned, lifting one foot and flexing the toes as if to pick something up.
"You brat," Heero sighed, taking a snow pea out of the salad and passing it to the begging bird. "Take it to your perch, you mooch."
"Mooch," came a smug-sounding reply, and Zero grabbed the morsel and flew off with it.
In the next instant, Wing flew in from the porch as well, but landed on the table and walked right over to the bowl, helping himself to a carrot before his owner let out an angry yell and swung a dishtowel at him.
"Off the table!" Trowa snapped, chasing after the bird until it flew back out to the porch and settled in its cage. He followed and closed the door, then paused to eye Zero warily. The grey bird was on his corner perch, looking innocent and docile. "Don't even think about coming back to beg for more," he warned, shaking the towel at it.
Zero made a derisive noise, and then mumbled something under his breath that was too quiet to decipher.
"Watch your language," Trowa said curtly, heading back into the kitchen.
"And you think I'm nuts for talking to squirrels?" Heero teased, carrying the casserole over to the table and setting it on a hot plate.
"Non-existent ones? Yes!"
"They exist. And they even used to exist inside the house," Heero pointed out. "Just because we chased them all away and boarded up their sneaky little entrances--"
"At least I talk to animals capable of answering," came the haughty retort.
"They're capable of performing a repertoire. That's not really 'answering.'"
"Close enough." Trowa plunked himself down in a chair and reached for a spoon to serve himself some of the supper. "So--while I was cooking the meal, I had time to read some more. Did you know the journals are practically a complete history of this place?"
"That would make sense if consecutive owners all kept journals."
"Well--not all of them did. Ephraim, of course, was the first. And he was very good at dating his entries and including lots of observations of the land, and the town and townspeople. He described building this house practically board by board."
"Sounds--tedious," Heero noted. "But thorough. Maybe you should talk to a historical society about the books--see if they'd like to archive them."
Trowa frowned. "Not yet. I want to finish cataloging them first. I'm trying to arrange them in chronological order and then read from start to finish. Ephraim filled several books with his stories, which included a lot about Jacob, his son. And that's kind of fortunate, since Jacob didn't keep one. Near as I could tell from skimming through a few entries, Jacob went off to join the army during the Civil War."
Heero nodded, more interested in the animated look on his roommate's face than on the content of the journals. He'd rarely seen Trowa so enthusiastic about anything, and considering how depressed he'd been after his knee injury, this was a sharp contrast. A good one.
"Jacob's son, Samuel, was probably the ancestor with the still. One of the books has his name penned on the inside cover, so I assume it will have his stories in it. Even my grandfather, Dekim Senior, kept a diary." Trowa gave a small smile. "I'm kind of looking forward to reading that one--to find out why my father left home and joined the circus."
"Wouldn't that be in your father's journal, rather than his father's?"
"Maybe. But I don't even know if he kept one. The lawyer hasn't located any of his personal effects yet." Trowa's smile faded a bit. "I hope he did keep some sort of records--letters or notes. I'd like to know whether or not he knew my mother was pregnant when he left."
"Wouldn't we all?" Heero said wryly.
They finished their meal talking idly about Ephraim's flowery descriptions of the landscape, and the deep love of the area that his entries displayed, and then afterwards, Heero took food and water out to Leon, before taking Thor and Balder out on their nightly walk.
Since Thor's big discovery, they'd studiously kept both Balder and him leashed, to be sure that if they headed for any remains, it would be with a person in tow. But so far, they'd been the picture of docility--not even tugging at the restraints. So there'd been no further discoveries made.
He'd all but given up on coaxing them to lead him to more bones, though it nagged at his curiosity. He couldn't help but wonder how old the remains were, or where they might be located. Had Samuel Barton gone as far as to kill a trespasser and bury the body? And if he had, was it someone who stumbled across his illegal liquor operation?
"Trowa's contagious," he concluded, talking to the dogs as they walked briskly along the trails. "I'm growing an imagination!"
Thor glanced up disinterestedly, and then resumed sniffing the ground as he paced along--clearly finding it more intriguing than his master's sardonic observations.
~*~When Heero walked back into the house a couple of hours later, with Thor and Balder in tow, Trowa clattered down the stairs and gestured to the telephone stand. "Took a message for you. From Chang."
Heero winced, dropping the leashes on the table. "What did he have to say?"
"He wants you to call."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
"Why didn't he try my cell phone?"
"How should I know?" Trowa countered. "Maybe you were out of range--like most of this wilderness seems to be. Or maybe he lost your number. Maybe he just didn't feel like he had the right--"
Heero ran a hand across his face, looking a bit strained, and Trowa's green eyes softened with concern. "D'you want me to make the call?"
"No. I can talk to him," Heero said with a sigh. "I assume this is about the bone. As long as we keep it--professional--I should be okay."
Despite not having found any more of a skeleton, Heero hoped Chang could at least confirm that it was still worth looking. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and hit the number for Chang's personal line, walking back outside as he did so.
"Chang here," came a curt, no-nonsense voice.
"It's H--Yuy," Heero fumbled, pacing across the porch and sitting on the railing. "I take it you've had a chance to analyze the bone."
"Yes. Now would you care to tell me the story behind it?"
"Didn't the police send the report I filed?"
"No. I merely got a bone with a hand-written note from the Smoky Hills Police Department. It gave your name and said you'd insisted on having it looked at, but that it was probably an animal bone." He gave an irritated huff. "The folks in the mail room almost threw it out, considering it some sort of practical joke. But the fact that it was sent to my attention, and had your name referenced at least got it to my desk. And one look assured me it was human; so I put it through the usual lab testing. Now, what's going on?"
Heero gave a dry chuckle. "Nice to hear your voice, too, Chang." And surprisingly, it was. The familiar, curt tone somehow relaxed him and made it easier to talk to his former lover.
"I--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be irritable," Wufei said with less venom. "But this was very much out of the blue, and the lack of information was disturbing."
"I'm sure it would be," Heero answered, knowing how much the forensic expert liked having all the details of a case at his fingertips. "So let me fill you in. My dog brought that bone home a couple of weeks ago, after being out roaming in the woods. When I took a close look at it, I was fairly certain it was human. And since there was no reasonable explanation for it ending up in Thor's mouth, I thought it should be brought to the attention of the local authorities."
"Hmph. Local idiots," Chang snipped. "I take it they brushed off your concern?"
"In spades," admitted Heero. "I'm something of a local laughingstock at this point. Trowa happened to overhear someone making wisecracks about the whole incident, and the butcher came right out and laughed at me to my face. The cops pretty much did the same." He couldn't quite keep the chagrin out of his voice, and amazingly his ex-boyfriend picked up on it.
"They'll be laughing out the other side of their faces shortly," he said with satisfaction. "It's a human tibia, badly worn, from having been chewed on by more than just your hound dog. I'd say he found it after other scavengers got through with it."
"Oh. Not good," Heero muttered.
"Why?"
"I'd hoped he might lead me to the rest of the remains, if that's where he found it. But if it was a long way from the original resting place--" He let Chang fill in the blanks.
There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "Don't give up hope, Yuy. You're a better cop than that."
"I'm no cop at all, at the moment," Heero reminded him.
"Yes, you are. Leave of absence notwithstanding, you are and always will be a detective at heart. So tell me where to fax my findings, since the morons who sent me the bone didn't provide contact information."
"Their address--"
"Yours," came a stern retort. "I'm not dealing with those fools."
"Chang, it's not my case. It's not even a case at all, yet."
"It will be. You've got a portion of a skeleton dating back at least four or five years--maybe as much as ten. Preliminary findings are that it's male, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Since cemeteries are scrupulous about burial practices, and no dog could possibly unearth a properly-interred body, that means it was buried 'privately,' which means there's a crime involved. When you find me the dump site, I can have a crew out there in a matter of hours, to try to gather more specific, verifiable data."
"But the jurisdiction--"
"--won't be a problem. I've already established that your local investigators haven't the staff or resources to conduct the kind of in-depth analysis required. My lab will be at your disposal."
"Shouldn't you be at their disposal?"
"I've already spoken to Une. She assured me that if they give you any grief, she'll pull rank and assign you to the case."
"I'm on leave," Heero reminded him.
"She'll temporarily suspend it," Wufei insisted. "If I ask nicely enough."
Heero sighed. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I think that when all is said and done, you will eventually come back to work. I don't think you have it in you to give up being a detective, in spite of--what happened. The fact that you are already involved in this case shows your commitment."
"Bullshit!" Heero blurted. "My dog stumbled on it, Chang."
"Yes, but it was you who opted to make a case out of it."
"What was I supposed to do--chuck it in the trash and forget it?"
"The average person would have," came the calm reply. "You and I both know that for a fact."
"Just because I can't help but recognize a human bone--"
"You have skills you could not possibly force yourself to stop using--even if you tried."
Heero gave a frustrated growl, and then gave up and dropped the subject. "Okay, Chang. You win. Let me give you my address and you can send me what you've got."
"Send? By mail? Don't you have a fax machine?"
"I've got dial-up internet and spotty cell service," Heero said bitterly. "I haven't even thought about hooking up a fax machine out here--though eventually it's something I might need."
"How long are you planning to hide out there?" came a rather snippy response.
"I don't know yet. As long as Trowa needs me," Heero retorted. "Frankly, it's none of your business--"
"You're entirely correct," Chang cut in, sounding just a bit offended. "My apologies for prying. But you went off without a word to anyone other than your boss, and the first I hear from you, it's in the form of human remains."
Heero managed a short laugh, imagining the impression that must have made. "Okay. Point for you. Look, I have a lot going on here. If you could just send me out your findings--and maybe notify the local police here?"
"Of course--if only to make sure they know you were right."
"That--would be nice. And I'm sure they'll take the news much better coming from you."
Chang gave a low, smug chuckle. "I fully intend to ridicule them, Yuy, and you know it."
"Ask me if I care," Heero replied unrepentantly.
TBC...
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