by Mary Stone
Frustrated and irritated, she dug in her purse for the keys to the car. A jingling sound to her right had her gritting her teeth.
“You might need these if you’re planning on taking us anywhere, boss.”
Right. He’d driven on the way there.
She snatched the keys out of his hand and jammed them in the ignition.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous, sweetheart.”
Winter shot him one fulminating look that had the smile dropping away from his lips. “Jealous? I don’t think so.”
Noah shrugged and picked up the file they’d gotten from Elbert, thumbing through the contents. “If you say so. For the record, she was lying through her perfect little teeth.”
“I know.” Winter put the car in gear and tried to concentrate on not spitting gravel with the back tires as she headed down the driveway. She didn’t know why she was so mad at him. Rebekah Archer was attractive and friendly. And if Noah wanted to bat his eyelashes at the woman, it was no skin off her nose. But he was right. Rebekah was a liar.
Winter reined in her bad mood and took a deep breath, turning out of the farm driveway and heading back toward Linville. “Why’d she say she lived there alone?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.
Noah shrugged. “Maybe she thought we meant to ask if there were any other adults in the house? The little pink shoes weren’t exactly hidden, stuck under the bench like that.”
She gave him a brief look, wondering if he was defending Rebekah’s lie, but he was studying a handwritten page with a line of concentration between his brows.
“Did you see anything else weird?” she asked, frustration making her drive faster than was wise.
He still didn’t look up. “No.”
If she were honest with herself, Winter really hadn’t been focusing as well as she should have during the interview, and that bothered her. She normally caught every little detail, but her impressions of Rebekah and her farm were a little clouded, and she could only blame her preoccupation with Noah.
That wouldn’t fly.
“You want to stop by the burial site? See if there’s been any progress made?”
Glad to focus on something else, Winter nodded. “Might as well. We’re close.”
Just down the road, they could see the hill, but the entrance to the trail was cluttered with vehicles.
“Looks like something’s going on,” Winter murmured, pulling up behind a county coroner van. In front of that was the chief’s SUV. “I can’t imagine Benton would have updated us on anything voluntarily, but Gary Miller should have at least given us a call.”
They got out of the car and headed for the well-trampled trail, with its little orange marker flag now seeming superfluous. The grass was trampled down, and someone had gone through with a bushwhacker, widening the area for easier access, cutting back saplings and knocking down the underbrush.
They were only two-thirds of the way to the top when they passed one of the forensic archaeologist’s ubiquitous interns. She was headed down the slope at a fast clip. “You guys are just in time.” She skidded to a stop, and Winter grabbed her arm to keep her from rolling down the rest of the way, ass over teakettle.
“What’s happening?” Winter asked. Her stomach tightened. Please don’t let it be more animal bones.
“Two more bodies.” The girl’s pale gray eyes were wide behind her thick glasses. “You were right. It’s a dumping ground.”
10
The crime scene was a hive of activity.
The chief hurried over as soon as Winter and Noah entered the clearing, consternation written across his face. “I was just getting ready to call you. Two more,” he said without preamble. “You’re going to want to come take a look at what the forensic excavator’s got.”
Marilyn Fosner was also looking grim. She had her hair tied back in a bandana, and one cheek was smudged with dirt. She didn’t look up from her work, painstakingly removing dirt from a shallow hole in the ground. Winter looked over the edge, which flickered a sullen red, like hot coals had been buried inside, and shuddered reflexively.
Two bodies, indeed. Tiny ones.
An almost electrical flare of rage skimmed up her spine, leaving the hair on her arms standing on end. “What kind of a monster kills children like this?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken the words out loud until Marilyn answered.
“One sadistic fucker.” She pointed one gloved finger toward an impossibly small skull. “Bullet wound. Same as the other two sets of bones. Back of the head.” She glanced up, her green eyes glittering darkly. “I don’t care how long ago this was. You find who did this. Find them and fucking fry them.”
Noah nodded soberly and took Winter’s elbow, leading her away. Marilyn went back to her bleak task, her shoulders hunched and her face emotionless as she wielded her excavation tools with the precise, delicate movements of a surgeon.
“No offense, but I wish you’d have been wrong,” Noah said in a weary tone. “What if we have a whole graveyard of tiny bones here?”
“Maybe we do,” she murmured. “But there’s something else here too. I feel it.”
“I think we need to go back and talk to Elbert again.”
Yes…Elbert. She sighed, thinking of the blind elderly man who trailed his fingers along the walls of the house he couldn’t see anymore. Filing cabinets full of information that he couldn’t read.
A chilly breeze brushed a dark strand of hair against Winter’s face. “I think you’re right. He knows more than he’s saying. Maybe if we push him a little, he’ll tell us what that is.”
“I’m sure you think you’re even hotter shit now.”
Winter turned around, not surprised to see Tom Benton behind her. His eyes were bloodshot and his face puffy. He didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well. She wondered why, but let the thought go.
It was none of her business.
She was here to find a murderer. If things had been left to Benton, she had no doubt there would have been only a cursory investigation, if that. The unidentified child—children—would never have received justice.
That thought sharpened her tone when she replied.
“No, I don’t think I’m hot shit. In fact, I’m not out to prove myself to anyone. I’m just doing my job. Being a professional.” The words were pointed, the implication clear.
Benton’s face reddened. “Listen, bitch—”
“Enough.” Noah’s normally relaxed manner dropped away in an instant. Winter looked at him in surprise. His face had gone hard as granite. He took one step forward, and Benton cowered back. “Apologize.”
Benton’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to argue. “Look—”
“Apologize,” Noah repeated. His voice didn’t get any louder but instead deepened with menace. “Y’all may have known each other as kids, but we’re all grown-ups here, and there’s no need for name calling. Right?”
Getting a better look at Noah’s face, Benton grimaced. “Sorry.” He spit the word out like it tasted bad and didn’t look at Winter as he said it.
Noah gave him a wide, sharp smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Now that we’ve got that little nastiness out of the way, can we get back to the case at hand? You grew up around here, Benton. What do you know about the Disciples of the Moon?”
Benton’s eyes flared wide for a moment, but he recovered quickly and snorted, the sound wet and disgusting. “Buncha hippies back in the day? What’s that have to do with anything?”
Anger sparked a fire in Winter. She hadn’t missed the look on his face, even though Benton had almost immediately buried it under his customary surly glower. “I grew up in Harrisonburg, just like you. I’d never heard of them.”
Benton shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “You left not long after that…bad business.”
Some bad business. The murder of her parents and the disappearance of her younger brother. She bit back another surge of anger at his patronizing tone
. “So, what do you know about this cult?”
“Nothing more than a kid hears. Urban legend.”
“Care to elaborate?” Noah drawled.
“Look, they were just a bunch of back-to-the-land weirdos. Did some farming. They kept to themselves, so as kids we made up stories. You’re grasping at straws if you want to pin this on some old commune that hasn’t existed around here in decades. How you even going to prove something like that?”
They weren’t going to get anything out of him, Winter saw, and Noah apparently concluded the same.
“I think Chief Miller wants to speak with you.” Noah nodded toward the older man, who was looking their way, thick brows drawn together in a scowl.
Benton cursed under his breath and headed away without another word.
“Ready?” Noah’s tone was smooth as he switched his focus back to Winter.
She stared at him for a moment. “I didn’t need you to do that. Step in for me. Benton doesn’t scare me.”
Noah shrugged his broad shoulders and headed away from the clearing, leaving her to match his long-legged stride or get left behind. “Benton’s a pissant.”
She doubled her own stride to catch up with him, irritation bubbling. “You need to scale back this whole macho Texas-guy thing you’ve got going. I’m not a damsel. I don’t need saving.”
He snorted. “Benton’s the least of your troubles.” Then he gave her a sideways glance, his green eyes unreadable. “And darlin’, we all need saving once in a while.”
Jennie Betts was running late.
Danny was teething, and she’d had to keep him home from daycare because he was running a fever. Then, her mother-in-law had given her a hard time about watching him. Dominic’s mom always said all the right things, but she sure lacked in follow through.
Let me know if you ever need someone to watch him. Of course, Gramma would welcome time with her baby boy!
Jennie fluttered her lips in disgust.
The second she ever called her mother-in-law for anything, out came the excuses. She had a hair appointment. A slight cold. Today, it had been her cat Missy’s annual checkup at the vet.
She’d had to wait until after two to drop off her fussy boy, and she was due at Mr. Wilkins’ house at nine. She’d tried to call him to let him know she’d be late, but he wasn’t picking up the phone.
The sky was starting to cloud up by the time she turned her beat-up station wagon into the driveway of Mr. Wilkins’ house. Looked like fall was officially here. She shivered as she pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the hatchback, wishing she’d taken the time to pull on a hoodie before she left the house. The breeze was blowing straight through her thin t-shirt.
Jennie lugged the Hoover up the front walk, juggling her basket of cleaning supplies to her other hand so she could dig her keys out of her purse.
“Hey, Mr. Wilkins!” she called out cheerfully as she came through the front door, flicking on the light switch. “Sorry I’m late!”
She knew he’d probably heard her pull up in the driveway—the man had ears like a bat—but the house was quiet. Not even the radio was playing. Frowning, she set down her cleaning supplies.
“Mr. Wilkins?”
The musty smell of old paper tickled her nose like it usually did, and she rubbed the back of her hand against it. Underneath the paper odor was something else. Something that made her nose wrinkle and her belly curl. She hoped the poor old guy didn’t have the flu. They’d already dealt with that in her house last week, and she’d cleaned up enough grossness to last a while.
The living room was empty, except for a green and white paper cup on the side table. Someone had brought him coffee. Maybe Alma, she chuckled. Those old people were a trip, the way they flirted.
God, she hoped the old folks weren’t getting it on. She listened carefully at the door, but when she heard nothing on the other side, she opened it an inch. The bedroom was tidy, bed made.
The door to the office was mostly closed, and she tapped hesitantly. Sometimes he sat in there. She didn’t know why. Maybe thinking about what was in all the books and papers that were now lost to him?
The door swung slowly open, and Jennie’s eyes widened.
Then, she started to scream.
Noah heard the ear-piercing shrieks the moment he opened the car door. But Winter was out and running for Elbert’s house, gun drawn, nearly before the car came to a complete stop.
“Hold on,” he yelled at her furiously, but she was already disappearing through the doorway.
It was getting to be a pain in the ass, working with such a spooky partner.
Inside the entryway, a young woman, curvy with dark brown hair, was sobbing, a fist stuffed in her mouth to stifle the screams they’d heard. “Take her out of here,” he growled at Winter. “Call for backup while I clear the house.”
He practically dared her to argue with him, but she just gave him a level look with those cool blue eyes and led the girl outside.
The house was empty, except for the elderly man crumpled on his office floor, surrounded by spilled papers. Some of them had wicked up blood that had spread from a gaping wound on the side of Elbert Wilkins’ head. The man’s face was frozen into a rictus of surprise, his sightless pale gaze fixed eternally sightless now on the wall.
Noah glanced around. The filing cabinets had been emptied, papers littering the room in drifts. It was a far cry from the neat organization they’d seen just that morning. He headed outside, where he could hear the young woman’s voice wailing shrilly, undercut by Winter’s low, calming tone.
Winter had tucked her gun away, and the girl was hugging her like a lifeline. She looked over the brunette’s head at him. Her face was priceless. A mixture of awkwardness and pleading, she obviously wanted him to take over in the comfort department.
“Ma’am, are you a relative?”
The girl finally lifted a tear-stained face from the shoulder of Winter’s black blazer and sniffled noisily. “No, I clean for Mr. Wilkins twice a week. Do his laundry. Make meals. He doesn’t…” she swallowed hard and corrected herself, “didn’t have any family.”
Before she could dissolve into tears again, Winter addressed her. “Come on, Jennie. I need you to be strong here. Tell us what happened.”
She sniffled again. “Danny was teething, and I couldn’t take him to daycare. I was late. Oh, God, what if I could have stopped whoever did that?” Her brown eyes welled again.
Winter stopped her firmly. “You couldn’t have. If anything, you could’ve been hurt too. Did you try to call Mr. Wilkins? Let him know you were running behind?”
“I did. He didn’t pick up. Sometimes he loses the handset to his cordless, and I’ll find it in a weird place, like the fridge. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Okay, you’re doing good, Jennie. Did you see anyone when you got here?” Noah asked. “How about the door. Was it unlocked?”
Jennie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, thinking. “No, it was locked. I had my hands full and had a hard time opening the door. I didn’t see anyone, but I was mad at my mother-in-law and thinking about that. I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m sorry.”
Her lip quivered, and Noah gave her a bracing pat on the shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said softly. “Go on.”
“I came in the house, dropped my stuff. I called him a couple of times. His office door was mostly closed and when I knocked…I saw…” She sniffed loudly. “I saw…”
Sirens wailed in the distance, and Noah held up a hand. “It’s okay. I know what you saw. Why don’t you hop in your car, turn the heat on, and warm up a little? We’re going to want you to stick around for a bit.”
Jennie nodded miserably. “I need to call Dominic. My husband.”
“You do that.”
Winter waited until Jennie was ensconced in her car. The sirens were coming closer. A light misting of rain started spitting from the leaden gray sky.
“What happened to him? She came
flying up on me, screaming, as soon as I came in the house.”
“Someone killed him, blow to the head. Ransacked his office.”
Winter winced, her face pale. “Dammit. I liked him.”
“Me too.” Noah watched a state trooper’s SUV turn onto the street a few blocks down. “How much you want to bet we don’t find anything valuable in those files?”
“Who knew we were here?”
Noah shook his head. “No telling. We’ll have to check his phone. See if he called anyone after we left. Hell, that receptionist at the hotel could have been putting the word out that the FBI folks were in town and interested in the Disciples. She may have talked to someone, bragged about sending us to Elbert.”
Winter gave him a hesitant look, oddly vulnerable, as the trooper’s vehicle braked at the curb. “I need to go in real quick. Take a look around for…anything.”
She still wasn’t used to sharing her secrets. Noah nodded and gave her a half-smile. “Go do your thing. I’ve got this.”
They could use any advantage she could offer because, now, they had not only who-knew-how-many old murders…they had a fresh one too.
11
It smelled like her. A light vanilla smell. Girly.
I inhaled deep through my nose and grinned.
I poked around a little. Looked in her nightstand. Just a standard, hotel-issue Bible that the hell-bound sinners never looked at. The suitcase hadn’t been unpacked. It looked neat and tidy, and ready to go at a moment’s notice, sitting on the rickety stand at the end of the bed.
Her toiletries were neatly lined up on the sink. I resisted the urge to touch anything. Wouldn’t want to invade her privacy none. I chuckled to myself. Going back out to the small bedroom area, I lifted the corner of the gaudy-patterned coverlet. Sliding my hand under the mattress, I pulled out the disabled camera and batteries. Felt around for a second more until my fingers touched smooth paper.
Pulling out the picture of her brother, I looked at it for a moment. Cute little kid, with those dimples. One to remember, for sure.
