The saddest thing was a message from his father asking that if his son was somewhere reading this to please come home because they loved him. She wondered if there were some issues between him and his parents.
He disappeared after March 28, 1998. His girlfriend had spoken to him on the phone that evening. He had decided to stay at school during spring break and study. After that phone call he wasn’t heard from again. His SUV was in the driveway of the house he shared with three other male students. They had gone to Fort Lauderdale during spring break, leaving him alone. No one saw him leave; no one saw anyone come to the house. He just vanished without a word to anyone, without a trace.
Until George and Jay Boone found his collarbone.
There was a number to call if anyone had any information. The instructions on the answering machine were to leave a message and number where the caller could be reached. Diane imagined they had to put in a special phone line. She wondered how many crank calls they got each month.
She looked at the clock. It was a little after 6:00 A.M. The hospital had been waking up for about half an hour. The hallway had grown steadily noisier as the sounds of the breakfast carts rattled down the hallway.
She dialed the number from the computer screen. One ring, then the answering machine. A voice with the same instructions.
Diane hesitated for a fraction of a second before she introduced herself to the machine.
“Hello, my name is Dr. Diane Fallon. I’m a forensic anthropologist and director-”
There was a sudden click on the other end and a mature male voice spoke. “Did you say you’re a forensic anthropologist?”
“Yes. I got your number from your Web page.”
“Is this about Aidan?”
“Possibly.”
“I’m his father, Declan Kavanagh. Have you found my son?”
“I don’t know for sure. Can I tell you what I’ve found?”
Diane explained only that skeletal remains were found in a remote area of a farm and that she had analyzed them. She told him that analysis of the remains suggested that the bones belonged to a young male, six foot two, who grew up in a cool climate and was basically a vegetarian, but ate fish. She wondered if perhaps he had a childhood allergy to beef. He’d had osteitis pubis, possibly from the side-to-side movement of playing hockey, and he should have had considerable groin pain from it at one time. He had olecranon bursitis that should have given him elbow pain, and a broken left tibia-shin. There was a possible archaeology connection. He disappeared probably between March and June of 1998-about the time of spring break for many schools. The sheriff of the county where the remains were located recently sent out queries across the country. She had plugged key words into an Internet search engine and came up with the Web page.
Diane had laid out all the findings briefly and clearly, as if she were giving a report. When she finished she heard a low groan on the other end that turned into a deep wail. She understood. She had taken away all his hope. She wanted to cry with him.
When he came back on the line, his voice was calm and emotionless. “You have described my son completely. Tell me where you are. I have X rays, dental records.”
Diane didn’t tell him the skull was missing. She thought it would sound too gruesome over the phone. She gave him her address.
“How did he die?” he asked.
“I haven’t been able to establish the cause of death. The severe injury to the shoulder could be the cause, but there is no way to tell. Nor can I say for certain the manner of death.”
“But it looks like murder to me. Is the sheriff looking for the killer?”
“First the remains had to be identified. We hope that will lead to the story of what happened, and that will lead to the killer, if it was murder.”
“You seem to be skirting around the issues.”
“No. I’m simply not going beyond what I know.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. You’ve obviously gone to great lengths to find out where the remains of my son belong, and I thank you. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can make arrangements.”
Diane gave him the name of the sheriff and his phone number.
Linc came in and looked at her chart. “You’re up and working. I thought I was a workaholic. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. I slept for a long time.”
“Good. Get back into bed and let me see if there’s any swelling. Your chart looks good. Any pain?”
“No. Just soreness.”
“I think you’ll have that a while.”
Diane got back into bed, and Linc felt for any swelling of her organs.
“So far, so good.” He listened to her heart and her lungs. “You’re doing better than I thought, with all the coming and going you’ve been doing.”
“How’s Frank?”
“He’s doing well. I’m pleased. Looks like the two of you will pull through.”
“I suppose you and Henry are anxious to go home.”
Frank laughed from the doorway. “Half the nurses think he’s a new doctor here.” Frank came in and took a seat beside Diane’s bed. “How’s she doing?”
“I think you can stop worrying, at least about this current episode.”
“I’ve put you through more than you bargained for,” Diane told Linc.
“It’s been good for me. I’ve enjoyed visiting with Frank. I’ve gotten to spend some time with Kevin. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
“You look good,” Diane told Frank. “Your color’s back.” She gave his cheek a gentle pinch. “You growing a beard, or going for the rugged look?”
“I’m feeling better every day. I think they’ll let me go home in a few days.”
Diane looked up at Linc. “Can I go home?”
“You think one night’s rest does the trick? You can go home if you only go home and not to the museum. Will you do that?” Diane stared at him, and he shook his head. “You know, I can see it in your eyes. You have no intention of staying home.”
“I’ve identified him,” she said.
“Who?” Linc hesitated a moment. “The remains? You know who he is?” He pulled up a chair. “How? When?”
“Just now.”
“You figured it out from your hospital bed?” Frank grasped her hand and held it tight. It felt good that his grip was strong again.
“Actually, from that chair over there. I searched the Internet for missing persons.”
“Good idea. What made you think of that?” said Linc.
“Lying here with nothing to do but think. I have to look at the X rays, but he fits everything-he’s a hockey player, had all the symptoms we saw in the bones. He even dabbled in archaeology.”
“I don’t remember that,” said Linc. “How did that show up in his bones?”
Diane told him about the arrowhead with a site number on it. “I called the father and he’s flying down from Washington State with X rays. He’s coming to the museum. Can I go, huh, can I?”
“You’re really impossible. You think you can stay out of trouble?”
“Sure. We’re sliding home now. If we can solve this, things can get back to what passes for normal.”
“All right. But listen to me. No running, jumping, lifting, getting into fights, no late hours. I want you in bed, asleep, early at night and set up regular appointments with your doctor for a few weeks. We have to watch for any internal bleeding.”
“I can do all that.”
“I’ll see to your release. Don’t make me regret it.” Linc left the room, and Diane turned her attention to Frank.