Bones on Ice: A Novella by Kathy Reichs Page A

2012.
    Brighton Hallis had died four months ago on Aconcagua. She’d been autopsied and cremated under the name Viviana Fuentes.
    —
    More phone time with Slidell.
    “You’re saying Brighton Hallis offed Viviana Fuentes to steal her identity?” Slidell sounded as though I’d suggested the outlawing of soup.
    “The physical resemblance is remarkable. If they’d switched outerwear, it could easily fool the casual observer.”
    “I change jackets all the time. My ma still knows it’s me.”
    Skinny had a mother? I stored that away for future consideration.
    “Neither of the women encountered a KA after Brighton’s death.” I used cop lingo for known associate. “A woman wearing Viviana’s jacket was airlifted to Kathmandu and subsequently disappeared. A woman wearing Brighton’s jacket and gear was found by strangers, frozen to death. People see what they’re told they see. And in Viviana’s case there was no one to raise questions.”
    “What the flip does that mean?”
    “Her only relative was a mother with late-stage dementia. Fuentes worked as a software contractor for herself, alone, from home.” Slidell tried to interrupt. I rolled on. “And even if someone did raise questions, there was no body to exhume.”
    “How’d Hallis get Fuentes’s passport?”
    “Unguided climbers carry their own. Brighton probably helped herself when sheswitched gear.”
    “The two were pals?”
    “I found nothing to suggest they’d met before Everest. It could have been a crime of opportunity. Brighton saw her chance to start a new life with a new name and a cool million. Took it.”
    Slidell made that throat noise he makes.
    “That late in the day, they’d have been the only climbers foolish enough to remain that high up. It explains why Brighton loitered at Hillary Step, waiting for Fuentes.”
    “Not to help her, but to bash her.” Slidell was coming around. “So Hallis arranges to be alone up top with Fuentes, takes her down with an ice axe, cracks her skull, maybe twice, smashes her teeth, switches gear, and skips on down the mountain with a fake Spanish accent, a new name, and a feigned case of the dizzies.”
    Not bad, Skinny. “Yes. The location of the head trauma is consistent with an assailant matching Brighton’s height and weight.”
    “Risky business.”
    “So’s prison.”
    “But Hallis is now toast?”
    “Ash, actually. The body was cremated.”
    “Sonofaflyingbitch.”
    “Yeah.”
    For several seconds silence hummed across the line. I broke it.
    “The only other climber up that route that day was a guy. I’m trying to track him down to see if he remembers seeing Viviana along the trail.”
    “What do you need from me?”
    “See if you can find a connection between Hallis and Fuentes before Everest. Any evidence of collusion or premeditation. See if Hallis got sloppy after Everest. Slipped. Contacted someone. Used an old bank account. Got arrested for jaywalking. Anything to prove Hallis was living the good life in South America after 2012.”
    Clearly Slidell didn’t share my enthusiasm. “Not sure the point. They’re both history.”
    “Justice for Viviana Fuentes,” I said.
    “This ain’t gonna make Blythe Hallis happy.”
    “But it will make her go away. And it puts a solve on your score sheet.” Both persuasive arguments for Slidell.
    After we’d disconnected I ran through everything I’d learned in the last few days. Got snagged on something Elon Gass had said.
    I think Damon joined them
.
    Damon James had met Viviana Fuentes. Had talked to her and Brighton at Camp III. Might he have something to contribute? I looked up his number and dialed.
    “Yeah.” Distracted.
    “It’s Dr. Brennan.”
    “What?” I could hear a lot of commotion in the background. Kids. A whistle. A dull echo that sounded like a train.
    I repeated myself, louder.
    “Sorry. I’m at my other glamorous job.” James barked an admonition to someone named Brian. “At the Whitewater Center.” I