Exposed

by C. M. Sutter

  Exposed

  by

  C. M. Sutter

  Copyright © 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by C.M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C.M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in the Midwest, although she is originally from California.

  She is a member of numerous writers’ organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc.

  In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and dog. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create handmade objects. Gardening, hiking, bicycling, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes. Be the first to be notified of new releases and promotions at: http://cmsutter.com.

  C.M. Sutter

  http://cmsutter.com/

  Exposed: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller, Book 5

  Darryl Sims, a long forgotten murderer, has been locked up in a maximum security prison for the last twenty years. Only when the family farm is repossessed for back taxes and sold to a megastore does the full extent of his heinous crimes—and the crimes of his son, Max—finally surface. When the property is excavated, skeletal remains of women that have gone missing over the years are exposed.

  Max is now on the run with Jade Monroe closing in. Worthy adversary that he is, Max eludes capture and continues his killing spree.

  With Darryl Sims calling the shots from behind prison walls, Max has been given his most important task to complete. This final murderous act rocks Jade to her core and makes her question the very career she loves most.

  Stay abreast of each new book release by signing up for my VIP e-mail list at:

  http://cmsutter.com/newsletter/

  Find more books in the Jade Monroe Series here:

  http://cmsutter.com/available-books/

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  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

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 1

  He looked up from the task at hand and peered down the driveway. One could never be too careful, and an extra ounce of caution couldn’t hurt. Max couldn’t remember the last time somebody came down that driveway to pay him a neighborly visit—it was too long ago. The only cars that came and went belonged to the sheriff’s department, and the deputies harassed him weekly. The spring rain that pelted the landscape created pools in the driveway’s potholes. That in itself would have dissuaded a visitor from stopping by. He scratched at that annoying tic above his left eye and got back to work.

  At thirty-nine, Max lived on the large compound, in that creepy farmhouse, alone. The thought of marriage never crossed his mind. Women were bothersome and good for only one thing—cooking. He liked his privacy far too much, anyway.

  He tapped the dirt with the head of the shovel and gave the site a long, thorough look. Nothing could be out of place—that wouldn’t do.

  “Damn it,” he growled when he noticed the pink tip of her nose poking through the dirt. He swung the shovel over his head and smacked the soil with as much force as he could muster. Mud sprayed in every direction. He heard the hard crack of metal against bone, then he cocked his head and smiled. He filled the shovel with one more scoop of wet dirt and dropped it over that spot. “Good enough.” Max pierced the soggy ground with the shovel’s blade and wiped the mud off his face with the back of his forearm. “That will teach you to look down at me.” He chuckled at the irony, grabbed the shovel by the shaft, and crossed the driveway to the house.

  Inside the large screened porch, Max stripped down to nothing and opened the door to the kitchen. The pile of wet clothes and muddy boots remained behind.

  After his shower, he dressed and took a seat at his usual spot in the kitchen. The rickety wooden table had seen better days. Dry, crusted food had now become a part of the surface and would take hours of elbow grease to remove, if he cared. He stared at the fly that seemed to enjoy the fresh crumbs. Max slowly reached for the swatter that lay on the floor. He hoped he wouldn’t scare the fly away. With his right hand, he lifted the swatter above his head and came down on the fly with a violent smack. He slid the mashed body across the table and dropped it to the floor. Yellow Boy, the stray cat that shined around occasionally, sniffed it then walked away.

  Max glanced to his left, then to his right. His father would have been at the head of the table, to his left, his mother to the right, and Grandma would have been directly across from Max, facing him. He sat alone—two out of the three were dead, and Darryl Sims was in prison for their murders. While he sipped black coffee that had been in the pot since yesterday, Max browsed the newspaper’s classifieds to see if his ad had posted. It was time to hire a new cook and housekeeper.

  Chapter 2

  Clark stormed out of his office with Monday morning’s newspaper in hand. “What’s going on with Max Sims?”

  “Apparently nothing, boss.” My response was sarcastic and tiresome. Our deputies had been to the Sims homestead five times in the last two months. Max had been served three eviction notices, and he still hadn’t budged.

  “The newspaper says the groundbreaking ceremony has been put on hold until he vacates the premises.”

  Jack huffed. “Then that big-box Swedish housewares store will never get built. Do you have any idea what the buzz was like in town when it was announced who bought that chunk of land? The county is going crazy with anticipation, not to mention the jobs it will bring in.”

  Billings spoke up. “Lucky for me, though. Now I have a good excuse to ignore Lynn’s pleas. She’s constantly harping on me about buying new furniture.”

  “Enough is enough. Jade, you and J
ack go out there and give him a final warning. Max Sims has two days to vacate, or he’ll be under arrest for trespassing.”

  “Man that sucks. Trespassing on your own family homestead,” Clayton said.

  “It isn’t his home anymore, and he’s had plenty of time to pay the property tax. He’s five years in arrears, for Pete’s sake.” Clark jerked his head. “Go on, get it done. He’s holding up progress.”

  I rose and put on my shoulder holster, slipped the chained badge over my head, and grabbed my purse and phone. I nodded at Jack. “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said as he put his sports jacket on over his shoulder holster.

  Jack grabbed a set of keys off the rack behind the dispatch desk, and we exited the building.

  “I’m driving.” I held out my open hand. Jack dropped the keys into my palm, and I unlocked the cruiser doors when we got closer. “What do you know about Max Sims?” I asked as I turned left onto Washington Street.

  “Other than he’s the son of a convicted murderer?”

  “Yeah, other than that.” I stopped at the red light and waited.

  “Not a lot. Seems whenever the conversation of the Sims place comes up, Max is described as a recluse with antisocial tendencies and just plain weird. People say he’ll never leave that farm. So far, it appears they’re right.”

  I gunned the cruiser through the green light and continued east. “True, but this will be his final warning to vacate. We’ll have to take him in if he doesn’t leave.”

  Jack chuckled. “At least he’ll have a place to stay, but I don’t know if there’s a bunk big enough for him.”

  I swatted his arm. “The jail is a temporary solution. Does he have any money or relatives?”

  “I don’t know a damn thing about the guy, other than he gives me and everyone in town the creeps.”

  The Sims family homestead was located on Highway G, southeast of North Bend and just outside the city limits. With plenty of room for the enormous store and parking lot, that one-hundred-acre parcel was the best choice when the Swedish store chain bought it at a foreclosure auction four months back. With the paperwork signed, back taxes paid, and transfer of ownership complete, groundbreaking was scheduled to begin when the snow melted. The house and outbuildings were supposed to be razed first to keep squatters and vandals at bay, but Max was delaying the progress. He should have left months ago.

  “I’ve never actually been here,” I said as I turned into the driveway. “The deputies always took care of the fun stuff.”

  “Yeah, but apparently they didn’t make much of an impact by taping eviction notices on the door.”

  “Well, let’s see what he thinks of us.”

  The driveway went back nearly a quarter mile. Ahead stood the two-story clapboard farmhouse. To its right and across the driveway were the milk house and another building about the same size. Made of fieldstone, that one was probably the summer kitchen from back in the day. Farther down the driveway, and beyond all of the other buildings, stood the barn. Its worn, aged facade lacked paint, and tall weeds surrounded it. The crumbling structure bowed inward at the roofline and gave the appearance it might collapse any second. Next to the barn stood the long-abandoned cement silo, and broken fence boards lay scattered on the ground like pick-up sticks.

  “Wow. This place is a mess, and the driveway is nothing but potholes. You’d think he’d be happy to leave,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, unless he has no place to go.” I pointed toward a black van and an old tractor parked against the barn. “He must be home.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  I did a wide turn at the house and aimed the cruiser back toward the road. I killed the engine, and we got out. Jack and I did a visual scan of our surroundings. We didn’t need a blitz attack from anyone popping out from behind a shed. Everything seemed quiet. The rain had decreased, and the gray storm clouds looked a little less threatening. I glanced at the ground—no recent tire tracks other than the ones I’d just made. I cocked my head toward the house.

  “Shall we?”

  We took the four cement steps up, then I gave the porch door a hard knock. If he was home, he had to see us coming.

  Jack pointed through the screen at the eviction notices torn up and strewn across the floor. In a pile before the kitchen door lay wet clothes and muddy boots. “Looks like he’s here.”

  I knocked again and called out his name. Silence. “He’s probably watching us through some crack in the wall.”

  “Avoidance isn’t going to make his problems go away. So, now what?”

  “Now we snoop. If he is watching us, he won’t like us milling around. He’ll poke his head out sooner or later. Come on. Let’s check the van.”

  I tried to stay on the grass as much as possible. I hadn’t planned this trip, so walking through the mud in tan leather flats wasn’t something I had anticipated.

  The screen door creaked open, then slammed closed. We turned to see Max Sims, a huge man that was six foot four and pushing three hundred pounds, staring at us. His graying hair was slicked back behind his ears and touched the nape of his neck, and a full gray beard covered the lower half of his face. His forehead furrowed with anger and forced his bushy eyebrows to touch each other above his nose. He crossed his arms defiantly over his wide chest.

  “Making yourself at home, are ya? What do you want?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for his attitude, and my hair was beginning to frizz. I lifted my badge from inside my jacket.

  “I’m Sergeant Monroe from the sheriff’s department.” I thumbed Jack’s chest. “This is Jack Steele, my partner.”

  “I asked you what you wanted.”

  “We’re here as a final warning, Max. You need to vacate this property. You don’t own it anymore, and legally, you’re trespassing.”

  He laughed loudly and charged toward us.

  Jack reached in under his jacket. “Stay where you are!”

  “Or what?” He continued coming. The threatening expression on his face told me he wasn’t kidding.

  I pulled out my service weapon and pointed it at him, center mass. “Do you really want to do this?”

  He stopped twenty feet from where we stood. “Get off my property.”

  “You have until noon on Wednesday to vacate, or you’ll be removed forcibly. We aren’t coming back alone, Max. Do yourself a favor and leave. If you’re still here when we return, you’ll be arrested.”

  He snickered a curse at us, returned to the house, and slammed the door at his back.

  “That went well,” Jack said as we climbed into the cruiser and drove back to town.

  Chapter 3

  Max cleared his throat before answering the phone. The only person calling would be someone responding to his ad, and he didn’t want to scare them away.

  “Hello,” he said as he tried to soften his gruff voice.

  “Hello, my name is Deborah French, and I’m calling about the ad in the paper. Is that position still available?”

  Deborah French. Nice name.

  “That depends. You sound awful young.”

  “I’m twenty and very responsible. The last few years of my grandmother’s life, I helped out quite a bit. I’m a good housekeeper, and I know how to cook.”

  “In that case, yes, the job is still available.” Max got comfortable on the overstuffed couch then reached for the ball gag. He twirled it in his hand and rubbed where the teeth marks were imbedded in the rubber. “I’d like to show you the place and explain the duties before I make a final decision, though. Are you able to stop by?”

  She hesitated briefly on the other end. “Can you tell me just a bit more?”

  “Sure. The pay is twelve dollars an hour, and you’re only required to be here from noon until six. It’s a mix of light housekeeping, lunch, and dinner, then you can go home. I’m not a big fan of breakfast.” Max rose and walked to the built-in china cabinet. He gave the handles a jerk and opened the double doors. As he continued
the conversation, he browsed the selection of cutting tools his father had left him. “Do you live in North Bend?”

  “Um, no, but close by. My family moved to the area last summer.”

  Good, she doesn’t know our history.

  “So are you going to stop over? I’ll tell you what I like for meals, and you can take a look at the place. You said you’re experienced. I’ll give you my decision after you make lunch.” He laughed at his own comment.

  “Oh—okay, I’ll come over now if you want.”

  “Wonderful. Here’s the address.”

  With the phone back on the cradle, Max trudged up the staircase to his bedroom. Inside, he changed out of his denim overalls and put on a decent pair of pants. He smoothed back his hair so he’d look a bit more welcoming. He checked the time—11:30.

  I’ll kill her later. I want a decent lunch first.

  He waited on the wingback chair near the driveway side window. He’d see her coming once she turned off the road. He looked at the combination clock and barometer hanging on the wall of the living room. Now it was nearly noon. Max got up and paced. He was anxious to get started. In a few days, he’d be forced from the farm, and he’d have to find a new killing and burial site.

  The sound of crunching gravel interrupted his thoughts. Max went to the window and peered out. A car, dodging the rain-filled potholes, was approaching the house.

  Good, she’s here. Now the fun begins.

  Max crossed the living room and pushed the kitchen curtains aside. Everything was in place and waiting. Through the screened porch windows, he saw her park the car. He watched as she got out and closed the car door behind her.

  Just right—young and pretty.

  She walked up the steps to the porch and knocked twice.

  Max opened the creaky screen door and grinned. She appeared startled by his size but smiled and said hello.