Silver's Bones by Midge Bubany Page B

from where she was last seen.”
    â€œForensic experts will have to formally identify the body, but you may be right,” Patrice said. “Why don’t you take a look at the jewelry found with the victim?”
    She laid out the photos of the items on the table.
    Franny Dawson gasped, then put her hand up to her mouth and let out a low moan. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Ray Dawson put his arm around his wife. She pointed to the photo of “S” pendant.
    â€œI gave her this for Christmas.”
    Ray took his wife’s hand in his and they began to weep. The rest of us remained silent. I took a couple deep breaths. Seeing people openly grieve is the worst part of this job. I plucked tissues from the box in the center of the table and handed them over.
    When the couple regained composure, Patrice pointed to the earring and ring. “Can you identify these pieces as well?”
    â€œThose were the earrings I gave her for her sixteenth birthday,” Mrs. Dawson said. She dabbed at the tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.
    â€œThe single earring was found in what was left of a jeans pocket,” Patrice said. “That may indicate she lost one and took the remaining one out and put it in her pocket. I’ve done that.”
    It was a gold hoop with a small heart attached.
    â€œAnd the ring?” I asked.
    â€œParker Gage gave it to her.”
    The ring was in the shape of an oblong heart, the center open.
    Troy said, “Although you have identified these items as your daughter’s, we still need the forensic identification.”
    â€œWho’s doing that?” Ray asked.
    â€œA forensic odontologist will use dental records and x-rays,” I said.
    â€œAnd we have a forensic anthropologist on the case whose specialty is iden­tifying bodies in the condition of this one,” Patrice said.
    â€œHow much of her was left?” Franny asked.
    â€œJust skeletal remains.”
    Franny uttered a single sob. Jesus. Poor woman.
    â€œWe’ll back everything up with DNA testing. Cal and Troy would like to look at what you may still have of Silver’s things, and also some folks from the BCA may contact you,” Patrice said.
    â€œAnything to help find the monster who killed my girl,” Mr. Dawson said.
    â€œWhat was your daughter like?” I asked.
    Franny smiled faintly. “She was the sweetest child, always the first to help me. Never complained about work, like her sister.”
    â€œHer sister’s name?” I asked.
    â€œEllie,” Mrs. Dawson said.
    â€œIs she single or married?”
    â€œMarried. Her husband’s name is Kevin Connor.”
    â€œWhere do they live?” Troy asked.
    â€œMaple Grove,” she said. “They own a beauty salon there.”
    â€œNever figured she’d meet her husband in beauty school,” Mr. Dawson said, raising one eyebrow.
    â€œWhat’s the age difference between the girls?” I asked.
    â€œEighteen months. Ellie’s my oldest. She and Silver were very close. She’s coming home this morning,” Mrs. Dawson said.
    â€œWhere were the members of your family on the night Silver disap­peared?”
    â€œRay and I were at home. Ellie was staying at a friend’s house,” Mrs. Dawson said.
    â€œDid Silver babysit for this family often?” I asked.
    â€œShe did when she was younger, but not since she started high school. She only agreed because Patty begged her. She wanted someone who could come and get the boys from her sister’s wedding reception because it would be too late for them. I shouldn’t have encouraged her,” Mrs. Dawson said.
    â€œSomeone could have followed her from that reception,” Mr. Dawson said.
    â€œWell, I doubt it, because Parker had been with her when she picked up the boys and then stayed with her until about eleven o’clock,” Mrs. Dawson said. “We found that out