The Stones Cry Out Read online

  I smiled, as politely as possible. "I have work to do."

  "Work, work, work!" My mother shook her head. The feather in her cap wagged at me, like a finger. "That's all you do, Raleigh. Work. Why can't you be more like your sister, live a little?"

  Wally stood up. My friend for life. “I can’t go either,” he said. “But, hey, thanks for the invitation.”

  I fully expected my sister to suddenly back out. Helen never liked to bear her own responsibilities.

  But instead she began making a big production of getting the Dutch mistress out the door. Five minutes of insisting this meal was going to be the best of our mother's life.

  When they finally left, the red clogs hammering across the slate courtyard, Wally went to his darkroom and I went to the carriage house, taking Madame with me. Heat lightning flashed in the sky and in the distance, thunder gave its muted grumble.

  In the carriage house, I gave Madame some cookies and stood at the windows waiting for rain. It began slowly, a simple little dance of water. But quickly it built to a roaring crescendo, the water sluicing down the brick walls and spilling across the hallowed cobblestones, rushing like a flash flood.

  Lost in thought, I must have stood there a long time. Helen and my mother returned from their meal, both of them shrieking like girls through the downpour, leaping into the kitchen.

  I turned and walked to my bedroom.

  From under the bed, I removed the shoe box containing my father’s broken Timex. Holding it in my hand, I thought of Janine Falcon. She would be receiving her husband’s watch. And I remembered that night when Detective Greene handed me his partner’s file. “Mike’s ghost.” And I recalled his words, that if I didn’t have a ghost yet, I would someday.

  I didn’t have the strength to tell him. Maybe I never would.

  But I had a ghost: My dad’s case.

  From another box under the bed, I took out the legal papers and notes. Things I collected from his desk the day after he died. The day after somebody murdered him. I stared at his blue-ink notations in the margins of the legal pads. His handwriting looked fresh.

  In the living room, I spread the paperwork across the floor, making a whispery quilt. Then I settled down in the low lamplight, and began.

  I began my work.

  The End

  Thank you for taking the time to read The Stones Cry Out. Please feel free to leave an honest review at Amazon or Goodreads.

  Acknowledgments

  No book, particularly one written by a mother with young children, is a solo effort. Without the help of people endowed with generous spirits, this book would not exist. Here are some of the good souls:

  The G-men (and women) in the FBI's Richmond field office, who graciously answered my questions. Interviewing these people was nothing short of an honor. In particular, Special Agent Wayne Smith deserves a medal for his tireless support of this project. And Special Agent Katie Land, for her wit. In the Bureau's Materials Analysis Lab, thanks go to Special Agent Bruce Hall, soil specialist extraordinaire, and the hardworking crew in the mineralogy lab.

  Richmond is a city full of southern characters who don't realize they're characters—the best kind—and many are playing within this book. Thanks to all who told me their stories. And the late Nelson Hyde, the character who first opened the door to Richmond.

  Detectives Tom Leonard and Boo Quick with the Richmond Police Department let me hang around their shop while they quietly cracked ice-cold cases. Rick Berquist, geologist with the Virginia Division of Mineral Resources, carried soil to my house in a Ziploc bag, then patiently explained why it was special. Amy Brichta, with the Richmond Medical Examiner's office, offered knowledge and scary science books. My agent, Brian Peterson, gave unwavering enthusiasm; my editor at Revell, Lonnie Hull DuPont, graced every step with her poetic spirit. Amy Lathrop, the genius behind LitFuse publicity, and Christy Anderson for making sure every “i” was dotted, and every “t” crossed, without losing the story. (By the way, when Christy read that last clause, she pointed out that the individual letters should be italicized. But I’m leaving them, ensuring her job security).

  And finally, Rev. Charles "Where's my rock?" Reynolds who took me through the book of Micah with piercing intelligence—then said the greatest sentence in the Bible might be "Jesus wept," but a close second would be "Jesus laughed."

  On a personal note, the wagons gathered many times over the eight years it took to finish this project, allowing me time for interviews and writing. Thanks go to Sherry Clements, who makes kids feel like kings; Pam Hill and her fun house; Claudia Cronin, Crys Gaston, and Robin O'Leaiy, for friendship beyond measure; Phyllis Theroux, my mentor, my friend; and Debbie Kendrick, who tapped my shoulder one evening many years ago and proceeded to electrify my spirit.

  Thanks to my parents, who always encouraged adventure but never forgot what was home. And to all my family in Seattle, especially my brother Roger.

  My deepest thanks, however, go to the Three Wise Guys: Joe, Daniel, and Nico. Without your love, laughter, and unending support, this book would not be possible. I am forever grateful.

  ===============

  About the Author

  Sibella Giorello was a features reporter for the Richmond Times-Dispatch for more than ten years. Her stories won many state and national awards, including two nominations for the Pulitzer Prize. She now lives in Washington State with her husband and sons. This is her first novel in the Raleigh Harmon series. For more information, go to HYPERLINK "http://www.sibellagiorello.com" www.SibellaGiorello.com.

  Copyright

  Cool Gus Publishing

  http://coolgus.com

  Copyright 2007, Revell Copyright 2010, Sibella Giorello, updated 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Giorello, Sibella.

  The stones cry out : a novel / Sibella Giorello.

  Table of Contents

  The Stones Cry Out

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

 

 

 
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