Dead Center

by Susan Sleeman

  The sheriff moved over to Kelsey. “Won’t the tree canopy be a problem?”

  “It’ll take some skilled flying, but I’ve got it.” She let the drone hover and glanced at Grady. “Can you bring the blue bin?”

  “Sure thing.” He smiled at her, hoping to ease some of the tension in her expression.

  She started forward, and Murphy followed, trailing her like a hunting dog after prey.

  Grady picked up the heavy tote and fell into step with Ainslie.

  “This is surreal,” she said, her Texas accent thicker since she’d come back home. “I always arrive at a crime scene after the scene has been identified. I’ve never participated in finding it.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” Grady said, really visualizing for the first time what they were about to do. “I avoid scenes whenever possible. Especially murder scenes. Brings back bad memories from Delta.”

  “I am so thankful there are people like you who are willing to serve. So thank you for that.”

  If he didn’t have a bin in hand, he would wave off her thanks. “And I commend people who handle crime scenes. Especially photographers like you. I don’t know how you focus in on the gruesome details.”

  “Compartmentalize,” she said quickly. “Put the job in one folder, my personal life in another, and never let them mix.”

  He’d never been able to do that with the horrible things he’d seen in the army. They still surfaced when he least expected it. “And that works for you?”

  “Most of the time.” She tilted her head as if deciding to go on or not. “A few things linger. At times, I have to work hard not to think about them. They involve babies and young children.” She shook her head, and her breathing sped up. “You can’t even believe the things that happened to these poor kids. It almost makes me not want to have children.”

  The sadness in her tone cut him to the quick, and he refused to let his mind go to the horrors she’d seen. “Almost?”

  “Oh, I still want kids.” She curled her hands into tight fists. “But you better believe I’ll be protective.”

  “Me too,” he said without thinking. “But I’d have to get married to have a family. That’s just not in the cards for me.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Why are you still single? I mean, you’re good-looking. Successful. Have a good job. You’re reliable. Dependable. Fun to be with. A woman should’ve snapped you up by now for sure.”

  He loved hearing her describe how she saw him. “Is that so?”

  Her face flushed red. “Guess I told you what I think about you, huh?”

  He slowed to fall back behind the others and face her, locking gazes. “I think you’re pretty terrific, too. And gorgeous.”

  A sudden rush of emotion darkened her stunning chestnut eyes. His feet stuttered to a halt, and he couldn’t look away. The world seemed to stop and everything—everyone—but Ainslie disappeared. He wanted to kiss her. Now. Right here. In front of the sheriff, two of his deputies, and Grady’s partners. And he knew it would be amazing. It would consume them both.

  “Got something!” Kelsey’s excited tone broke through his brain fog.

  Ainslie gasped and snapped her focus away, releasing him from her hold.

  He nodded at Kelsey. “We should go see.”

  “Yes,” Ainslie got out on a halting breath and then gulped in air as if it were in short supply instead of the steady wind blowing steamy air. “We need to stay away from any personal discussions and keep things professional.”

  “Agreed,” he said, but he didn’t know how he was going to accomplish that. He would try. For Ainslie’s sake. For Ethan’s sake. For his own sake, too. Because not only would he be leading her on, something he didn’t want to do, but also he was in for a world of hurt if he continued down this path with her.

  They slowly tramped through the woods, fallen leaves crunching underfoot in the dry spring weather. The canopy above brought dappled shade, helping with the sheen of perspiration forming above his lip and coating his back in the eighty-plus degree weather. Today would be considered a hot day in Portland, and the fifty percent humidity didn’t help.

  Nearly thirty minutes of hiking later, Kelsey brought the drone in for a landing, the hum winding down and stilling. Sierra joined her, camera at the ready, and Grady thankfully set down the heavy tote.

  The sheriff planted his large feet in front of Kelsey. “You sure this is the place, little lady?”

  Kelsey bristled at the sheriff’s comment, but Grady knew she wouldn’t say anything. As a beautiful, willowy woman who frequently dressed in very feminine clothing while working in the law enforcement field, she often received sexist comments, and she’d learned to ignore them.

  “I’m sure.” She opened her backpack and removed a trowel. “I need your deputies to cordon off the park entrances, and I’ll set the inner perimeter then get started on the dig.”

  He pointed at her hand and cracked a smile. “Gonna take you a good long time to get that grave dug with such an itty bitty shovel.”

  “Indeed,” she said, not sounding put out at all. “Likely all night. Or even longer. All depends on what I find. But digging with a handheld trowel and brushes is essential so I don’t damage any of the bones or disturb evidence.”

  “All night?” He narrowed his gaze. “I’d like to move this along. Maybe my men can help after all.”

  She looked up at him with a tight smile. “Thank you for your consideration, but no. I have a process to follow, starting with removing the soil layer by layer so I can sample each layer and then put it on a tarp to be screened for evidence.”

  “Layer by layer?” Murphy took off his hat and swiped a handkerchief over his forehead. “Not sure what you mean by that.”

  “Soil is made up of layers or horizons,” she explained, but Grady could tell her patience was growing thin. “I won’t bore you with the details. Just know a grave will have distinct layers on the edges but the person who dug the grave will have mixed up the fill soil.”

  “She-ooot.” He scratched his head. “Don’t know why any of this matters.”

  Her patience finally giving out, Kelsey sucked in a sharp breath and planted her hands on her hips. “First, these layers will show me the edges of the grave so I don’t miss any evidence. And then, the soil is as unique as a fingerprint. If we fail to locate sufficient evidence to convict the killer, a soil scientist can compare the soil to the shovel or any soil found on a potential suspect’s shoes, in his car, his house, et cetera, and place them not only on this property but specifically in this grave.”

  He settled his hat back on his head. “Not likely we’re gonna find any evidence at the suspect’s place after all these years.”

  “I’ve had it happen.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  14

  Ainslie watched Kelsey pound stakes into the four corners of the grave and run string to outline the grave while Sierra snapped photo after photo of overall shots. Ainslie’s fingers itched to get out her camera and take over for Sierra. To frame the photos just so, making sure the picture not only caught evidence artifacts but put the pictures in scale for the jury so they knew exactly what they were looking at.

  But Sierra had everything under control. She and Kelsey moved as if in a ballet, staying out of each other's way but remaining close and doing their jobs without talking.

  “They’re something to watch.” Grady joined her. “The way they know what to do without a word.”

  She glanced up at him. “I was just thinking the same thing. How long have they worked together?”

  “It’s a little over six years now since we opened the center.” His chest puffed out.

  “You all really started something special,” she said with conviction. “I’m honored to be a part of it.”

  “And we’re glad to have you. Especially Sierra. She has exacting standards, and she sings your praises all the time. Means you’re exceptional at your job
.” His proud tone was how she’d often imagined her parents might’ve sounded if they’d bothered to be proud of her. His consideration warmed her heart clean through.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but it would take them into the personal realm again, so she snapped it closed. The air between them filled with tension.

  He ran a hand over his hair and clamped it on the back of his neck. “I should ask if there’s something I can do to help.”

  Good idea. If… “I wish I could, too, but the conflict of interest keeps me on the sidelines.”

  His phone rang, and he dug it from his cargo pocket. “It’s Jackson.” He swiped the call to connect. “Hey, man. Ainslie’s with me. I’m gonna put you on speaker so she can hear.” He tapped his screen and stepped so close that she could smell the sunscreen he’d lathered on his face.

  “Coop said you wanted to know when I got eyes on Eggen,” Jackson said. “He emerged from his apartment looking hungover and wobbly. Went across the street to grab food and then back to the room.”

  “I’m glad you called.” Grady shared the latest information about Wade murdering Neil.

  “Murder, huh?” Jackson said.

  “Since this happened back in his juvie days, I don’t know if it makes him more dangerous than he already was, but you should be aware that he’s capable of killing someone.”

  “Good to know,” Jackson said, not sounding particularly fazed by the news. “I’ll update Coop.”

  “Let me know if Wade gets up to anything.” Grady ended the call.

  Ainslie was again struck with the quality of partners that the Veritas team worked with. “I love how connected you all are. It’s amazing.”

  “And you haven’t seen the half of it.” Shoving his phone into his pocket, Grady grinned and nodded at Kelsey and Sierra. “Time to check in.”

  He stepped over to the edge of the grave, where Kelsey knelt on the far end. “Anything I can do to help?”

  She swiped the back of her hand over her dirt-smudged forehead. She talked through her next steps with Grady, and Sierra stopped to look up at him.

  Ainslie remained on the sidelines, listening to their conversation. Even though she knew the three of them, she felt like an outsider. Like an employee. No matter how many times they’d told her she was family, she kept looking for reasons why she shouldn’t be. Couldn’t be. Her past being the chief among them.

  She’d taken several psychology classes in college, and was fascinated with what made people do what they did. Especially her dad. How could he one day just decide he didn’t want to be a dad anymore and bail on them? She’d never come up with an answer, but she continued to search. Her past colored the way she looked at things today. Psychologists used the fancy term confirmation bias. A person believed something, either true or not, and then looked for things in everyday life to confirm the belief and make decisions based on that.

  So, seeing herself as less than others from the whole charity thing as a kid, she subconsciously set out to prove it. Like thinking she wasn’t good enough to be part of the Veritas partners’ family, even though they’d been nothing but welcoming and encouraging. She really needed to change how she saw herself. To see herself like Jesus did. With love. Love saw perfection, not worthlessness, despite how people had made her feel growing up. And then she had to remember that she was chosen. Forgiven. Saved. Special. Not less-than. Not insignificant.

  Tears formed in her eyes, and she swallowed them away to bring her mind back to the task at hand, where it needed to stay. She could think about all of this later when she was alone with her treacherous thoughts.

  Kelsey sighed and looked at Grady. “We could use some water. Gatorade, too. Think you can find a cooler and stock up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Sierra looked at Ainslie. “Take Ainslie with you. She knows the town.”

  “That was so not subtle.” Grady didn’t sound mad at Sierra exactly, just a bit annoyed.

  Sierra grinned. “If I know her, and I think I do, she’s struggling to find something useful to do.”

  Sierra was right. Ainslie wished she had a task right about now. But preferably one without Grady attached to it.

  “Okay,” he said, maybe thinking it made sense. “We’ll be back soon.”

  He started back her way, and she enjoyed the way he strode so confidently in his tactical pants and combat boots. His gray T-shirt was plastered against his broad chest, giving her a better look at his muscular build. She could easily imagine him holding her, his strong arms wrapped around her. She liked the idea. Way too much.

  He stopped in front of her, planting his boots in the dust. “We need to find a place to buy a cooler and grab some cold drinks.”

  “There’s a hardware store just down the road where we can grab a cooler and a convenience store right past it.”

  He raised the yellow crime scene tape so she could duck under. She led the way back through the woods she’d never played in as a kid. Not because she believed the story. She didn’t. But because she hadn’t had friends to play with. Her fault. She always had her nose stuck in a book to avoid interacting with hurtful people.

  She stepped into the park clearing, where Matt stood by his vehicle. Onlookers surrounded him. Memories of high school rushed back. She’d been a sophomore when Matt was a senior and quarterback. He could do no wrong in anyone’s eyes, but he had a terrible habit of picking on others. Not a bully exactly, but subtly sending teasing barbs that held just enough truth to draw blood.

  “Nothing to see here folks. Go on home.” He waved at them, but they remained. “I mean it, folks. Don’t make me haul you in.”

  “But we heard you finally found Neil Orr’s body,” a skinny woman in a tank top said.

  “You know better than to put any stock in the town’s grapevine.”

  Ainslie noticed he didn’t actually answer the question. A hallmark of an experienced law enforcement officer with all the political savvy his elected position required.

  He planted his hand on his sidearm and drew back shoulders that were even broader than they had been during his football days. “Now go on home, Velma.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes in a brown weather-beaten face and wiggled a finger at Grady and Ainslie. “Then who are those people?”

  “Don’t rightly see how that’s any of your business.” Matt hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Now get moving.”

  Grady unlocked the door of the rental SUV. “Do you know anyone in the crowd?”

  Ainslie searched the faces, part of her hoping to recognize someone. The other part dreading it. “It’s been too long.”

  She slid into the truck and caught him looking at her legs. Did he notice the pale white skin born of an Oregon winter where the people here in Texas were bronzed?

  He snapped his gaze free and ran around the front of the SUV. He climbed in and closed the door. “What’s it like to be back here?”

  “Honestly, I don’t really feel like I’m back home. We raced from the airport straight out here, and things on the main drag have changed a lot in the time I’ve been gone. Especially since the casino opened a few years ago. There’s even a Whataburger here now.”

  He gaped at her. “A what?”

  She chuckled. “It’s a regional burger place out of San Antonio.”

  “Never heard of them.” He got the vehicle out of the parking lot and clicked on the air conditioning.

  She adjusted the vents, and when the cool air washed over her body, she groaned. “Oh, man, this is heaven on earth.”

  “But you’re from here.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m used to the heat anymore.”

  He swung onto the highway and rolled past the remnants of a forlorn looking old railcar, which had been turned into a restaurant and drive-in with a weathered pig on the side. It had once been the place where she dreamed of having enough money to eat.

  “Back in the day, that was the only takeout diner.” She stabbed her thumb in the direction of the pl
ace with a crumbled asphalt parking lot and abandoned drive-in parking spaces. “Porky’s Diner.”

  Memories of her family heading home from a football game, the windows of their beater station wagon open, the smell of grilled burgers and onions wafting into the car. The sounds of her fellow high schoolers whooping it up outside. A crowd she didn’t know very well. Not when she lived in the trailer park on the wrong side of town, and it took money to go to Porky’s every week.

  “Not that we could afford to get anything from there,” she added without thinking.

  Grady swung his head toward her, and, at his questioning look, she wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “We had lean times growing up,” he said. “Nothing like you, I expect, but my parents had to get help from fellow farmers in the area. Many times. Everyone worked together when times were tough and shared crops, produce. Even meat and game.”

  She heard the love for his youth in his tone. “I always thought living on a ranch near here would be the perfect life. You’d always have your own food source. No food pantries. And you were far away from nosy busybodies in town.”

  “Farm living was great, but it wasn’t perfect. Trust me. I couldn’t wait to get away from it. Which is why I played football, hoping to get a scholarship. I wasn’t good enough. So now I live vicariously through watching the game. I am an all-star at that.” He laughed.

  “So the sport isn’t just a hobby to you then,” she said as they neared the small hardware store. She remembered coming here with her father to buy supplies when she was a little kid. She pointed at the store. “Turn here.”

  He clicked on the blinker. “I’ve never given football much thought. It’s just in my life. Has been forever.”

  “Kids in Texas start playing in preschool. Did you, too?”

  He tightened his hands on the wheel, looking like she hit a nerve.