Buried Secrets

by Irene Hannon

  “Hi, folks. Tom Cooper.” He stuck out his hand and gave them each a hearty shake as they introduced themselves. “I couldn’t help but notice the police car. Everything okay here? I’d hate for Erika to have any more trouble, what with her husband’s problems and all. Such a nice woman.”

  “We were hoping to catch her, but it appears she might be out of town.” Lisa sidestepped his question and gestured to the newspapers on the lawn.

  “Far as I know she’s here. They’ve been staying real close to home with the trial in progress.” He studied the papers. “Strange thing about those newspapers, though. Since I moved in with my daughter and son-in-law two years ago, she always comes out first thing every morning—’bout the same time I get our paper. Told me once she likes to read the comic section and the society page while she eats breakfast.”

  “When did you last see her?” Mac asked.

  “Tuesday evening. These eighty-four-year-old eyes don’t have great night vision, but I did notice her car pull out. She wasn’t gone long.” He scratched his head. “You know, she gave us her cell number a while back when she and her husband were going on a trip, in case there was any kind of emergency. Would you like me to get it for you?”

  Mac deferred to Lisa. She could get it herself if she wanted to, but this would save a step or two.

  “If you don’t mind, that would be very helpful.”

  “Glad to do it. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  As Erika’s neighbor retraced his steps, Mac surveyed the house. “While we’re waiting, I’m going to see if there are any windows in the garage.”

  “Wondering if her car is in there?”

  “Yeah. The paper thing bothers me. Based on what Mr. Cooper said, it’s out-of-pattern behavior.”

  “I agree. I’ll wait for him here while you take a look.”

  Mac returned to his car, retrieved a flashlight, and followed the driveway to the back of the house.

  No windows in the garage itself—but there was a row of small, paned rectangular windows along the top of each of the four doors.

  Standing on tiptoe, he could just see into the bottom of the lower panes.

  Too dark to make out the interior.

  He flipped on the light and flashed it inside.

  Each of the four bays held a car.

  Dropping back onto his heels, he clicked off the light and frowned. There could be several logical reasons why Erika hadn’t answered their ring. A friend had picked her up and she was out for the day. She was taking a shower. She’d spotted them and decided to ignore their presence. She was sleeping off some booze.

  Or something was wrong.

  His gut said it was the latter.

  “What did you find?” Lisa rounded the garage.

  “Her car’s here. So are three other vehicles.”

  “I don’t have good vibes about this.”

  “Me, neither. Want to trespass a little more?” He tipped his head toward the back of the house.

  “I’m game.”

  He led the way to the shrub-shrouded backyard, which featured a large pool, slate terrace, groupings of patio furniture, and lush landscaping. Sort of like the house he and Mitch had been to for that robbery earlier in the month.

  “No expense spared here.” Lisa surveyed the posh layout.

  “Ponzi schemes pay—until you get caught.”

  “Apparently so.” She wandered over to the French doors that led into the house. The shades were drawn tight on every one. “Not much chance we’re going to find anything helpful back here.” She pulled out her cell and extracted a slip of paper from her pocket. “Let me try the number her neighbor provided. Then we’ll pay Jessica a visit.”

  While she wandered a few feet away and tapped in the digits, Mac took her place at the shuttered doors. It was a shame there wasn’t a small opening somewhere that . . .

  He froze. Cocked his ear toward the house. Was that . . . music?

  No. It was gone now. He must have . . .

  Wait.

  There it was again. The exact same melody.

  It was a ringtone.

  He looked toward Lisa, who still had her cell to her ear. The music in the house played a third time. Stopped.

  She sighed and closed her phone. “No answer.”

  “Try it again . . . over here.”

  She sent him a quizzical look but walked toward him. “Why?”

  “I think her phone’s ringing on the other side of this door.”

  In silence, she pressed redial, angled the phone so they could both hear it, and put her ear to the glass.

  The music started again as the ring sounded on her phone.

  After three times through, the ringtone stopped and voice mail kicked in on her cell.

  She tapped the end button. “This is weird. I can see why her car would be in the garage if she went out with a friend, but why leave her cell behind?”

  “Maybe she forgot it. Or she’s taking a shower or sleeping off a bender.”

  “Given her condition on our initial visit, your last theory is very possible.” She slid the phone back on her belt. “It’s also possible there’s a problem inside.”

  Mac folded his arms. “I wonder if she has any local relatives who might have a key?”

  “I don’t know about that—but her friendly neighbor does . . . for emergencies. He offered that piece of information when he gave me the phone number. He said she’d given him carte blanche to go in the house anytime if there was a problem.”

  “Do you think we could convince him there might be?”

  “I do—but let me try the doorbell once more.”

  They circled the house again. Tom Cooper was sitting on his terrace, watching the proceedings as Lisa returned to the front door and rang the bell again.

  Still no response.

  As she descended the porch steps, Mac crossed the street.

  Tom rose as he approached, face alight with interest. “What can I do for you now, young man?”

  “To be honest, we’re concerned. While we were checking out the back of the house, Chief Grant called the cell number you gave her. We could hear it ringing through the French doors. And Ms. Butler’s car is in the garage.”

  “Hmm. Could be she just doesn’t want to talk to the police, what with all the problems she’s had.”

  The guy might be eighty-four, but he was sharp.

  “Could be—but we’re thinking there might be a problem inside.”

  “You want me to try ringing her from this house? She knows our number, and she wouldn’t have any reason to ignore a call from us.”

  Yep. Sharp as a tack.

  “That’s not a bad idea. But give us a chance to drive around the block first. If she is inside and happens to be watching, she might assume we put you up to making the call. If you wait until we drive away, she’d be more inclined to think you were calling to tell her what you’ve learned.”

  The man squinted at him. “You have a good head on your shoulders, young man. You aren’t going to make any trouble for Erika, are you?”

  “At this point, we just want to verify she’s okay.”

  “All right. I’ll wait until you get to the end of the street before I call.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mac rejoined Lisa, told her the plan, and sixty seconds later they were both pulling away from the curb.

  When they returned less than five minutes later, Tom Cooper was waiting for them on the sidewalk, two parallel wrinkles engraved on his forehead. Lisa was on her phone as she slid out from behind the wheel, so he walked over to the older man.

  “No answer for me, either. I’m starting to worry about that little lady too.”

  “Chief Grant tells me you have a key for emergency access. Do you think it might be prudent to take a quick look inside, make certain everything’s okay? We’ll wait on the porch.”

  “Well, now . . . I hate to invade anyone’s privacy. Could be she’s sleeping.”

  “We’ll po
und on the door first.” That would wake her—unless she was passed out from booze.

  No need to mention that, however.

  “Then I expect it’d be all right. Let me get the key.”

  “We’ll meet you on her porch.”

  As the man disappeared inside and Lisa ended her call, Mac gave her a thumbs-up. “I promised him we’d pound on the door before he opens it, in case she’s sleeping, and that we’d wait outside while he does a quick walk-through.”

  “Works for me.”

  Tom reappeared, his gait spry as he closed the distance between them.

  Once he was on the porch, Mac pounded on the door with his fist.

  The man flinched. “My word. That’s loud enough to wake the dead. You keep that up, you won’t need the key at all; the door will fall in.”

  Mac grinned. “Let’s give it thirty seconds.”

  Half a minute later, he stepped back. “Your turn.”

  Tom moved into position and inserted the key. “You want me to walk around and call her name?”

  “Yes. We’ll wait here.”

  Pocketing the key, he twisted the knob and entered, leaving the door open behind him.

  From their position, he and Lisa could follow some of Tom’s progress. He went right first, into the living room where Erika had talked with them on their first visit. He continued to the back of the house, his voice echoing in the distance as he called her name. Then he reappeared in the foyer and crossed to the room on the left.

  Fifteen seconds later, he spoke again.

  “Erika?”

  At his questioning tone, Mac looked at Lisa.

  “Erika? Oh my . . .” His voice faded out.

  Moments later, he stumbled back into the foyer, his complexion pasty.

  Mac stepped over the threshold and strode over to him, Lisa on his heels.

  “She’s . . .” His hand fluttered toward the room behind him. “She’s in there. I don’t think . . . I think she’s . . . dead.”

  Mac took his arm and guided him to the closest chair. “Sit here and take a few deep breaths. We’ll check it out.”

  Pulling out his Sig Sauer, he followed Lisa into the room. She was headed for a chair faced toward the fireplace, where a woman’s limp, hanging arm was visible. Her weapon, too, was at the ready, her gaze roaming the room.

  But it was empty except for Erika.

  And she was dead.

  It took no more than one quick glance for Mac to confirm that.

  And she’d been dead a while, based on the lividity in her hanging hand.

  He holstered his weapon and pulled out his phone.

  While he tapped in his boss’s number, Lisa did a three-sixty turn, Glock still in hand. But by the time he’d reported the death, asked if Mitch was available, and requested the medical examiner’s assistance, she, too, had holstered her weapon.

  She nodded to the bottle of scotch, the empty tumbler, the packet of pink pills. “I think I know how this is going to play out.”

  “Yeah. And there are plenty of obvious reasons why she might overindulge, given all her problems—even without adding in Alena.”

  “How convenient . . . for Jessica.”

  “I don’t like the coincidence, either, but proving it’s anything more could be difficult.”

  “I know.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Exhaled. “We better deal with Mr. Cooper.”

  The older man was sitting where they’d left him, eyes wide with shock. “I can’t believe this. I know she drank too much, but . . . this is terrible.”

  Even he was jumping to the obvious conclusion.

  “Let’s wait outside, Mr. Cooper.” Mac moved beside the man. “Some of my colleagues will be here shortly.”

  He assisted him up, holding his arm as they crossed the foyer, exited, and walked down the stone path to the street.

  “Will you be okay going the rest of the way home by yourself?”

  “Yes. Thank you, young man.” He shook his head. “Funny. I was just thinking this morning how quiet my life is these days and wishing there’d be a little more excitement. Guess I better be more careful what I wish for in the future.”

  As he trudged back across the street under the blazing sun, Lisa slipped off her jacket, brow puckered. “I know how this looks—but Jessica had motive. Given her high-profile job and the nature of their clientele, she has a lot to lose if she’s connected with a scandal, even if no crime was involved. If she and Erika and Joe had any part in Alena’s death, she might be worried Erika would crack. And based on what you told me about your encounter with her secretary, she has a callous side.”

  “I agree with your reasoning. However, I also think she’s very smart. We’ll go over this place with a fine-tooth comb, and I’m going to see if my colleague can talk the ME into getting us the BAC from Erika’s tox panel as soon as possible, but if Jessica had anything to do with this, my guess is she covered her tracks.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right.” She blew out a breath. “There’s not a whole lot here for me to do except wait for your results. This is local and County jurisdiction.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything. You still plan to pay a visit to Jessica?”

  “Not today. I’d rather wait until you and your colleague check the place out and we hear from the ME. In the meantime, I’ll tackle the pile of reports waiting for me at my office.” She eyed the stately home. “You never know what’s behind the walls of a house, do you? Who’d have guessed this mansion harbored alcohol abuse, death, crime, deception . . .”

  “And maybe answers.”

  She swiveled back to him, flashing a quick smile. “Let’s hope so.” With a flip-of-the-hand farewell, she returned to her cruiser and drove away.

  Mac checked on Tom Cooper. He was back on the terrace. Waiting for the next act, no doubt.

  His phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it off his belt. Mitch.

  “You on the way?”

  “Yeah. What’s the deal?”

  He gave him a fast briefing.

  “What’s your take?”

  He perused the house again. “I didn’t see anything at first glance to suggest foul play. But we’re now down a player in the Carson old bones case.”

  “Suspicious.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Look for me in fifteen. If there’s anything there to be found, we’ll find it.”

  As the line went dead, Mac slid behind the wheel of his car and cranked up the air. It was too hot to stand around in the sun waiting for his colleague to show.

  Once Mitch got here, though, they’d do a thorough search in Erika’s house.

  But while his instincts told him her death was more than accidental, he had a bad feeling they’d find nothing to support that theory.

  And if Jessica was involved, if she’d managed to pull this off without leaving a trace, the ambitious PR executive wasn’t just smart.

  She was a dangerous, cold-blooded murderer who would stop at nothing to eliminate anyone she regarded as a threat.

  19

  Jessica double-checked the directions Joe had given her. She’d exited I-64 after one of the most boring three-hour drives of her life. Headed west on 358. Clocked five miles since leaving the highway. Seen the sign for West Kentucky State Wildlife Management Area.

  She was getting close.

  Rolling her shoulders, she surveyed the mixture of fields and woods. The man was in the middle of nowhere—which about summed up his life.

  Still, he could have rotted in his rural hideaway for all she cared if Erika hadn’t told her his resolution to keep quiet about what had happened was wavering. And it might waver even more after he found out about his one-time girlfriend’s demise.

  She couldn’t risk that.

  Her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. Meeting him on his own turf hadn’t been her first choice . . . until he’d told her he didn’t live in town but on ten secluded acres abutting the wildlife area. As l
ong as no one saw her turn in to his drive, she’d be safe. If she spotted a car as she approached, she’d drive past and circle back. As for leaving afterward, she’d wait until the light faded . . . even though that would mean a long, dark drive back to St. Louis.

  Not how she’d have chosen to spend her Saturday evening . . . but necessary.

  A mailbox came into view, and she slowed to read the numbers.

  This was it.

  A long gravel drive led to a small brick bungalow tucked among the trees, barely visible from the road. A trip through a carwash would be a must after traversing such a gritty road. She grimaced. One final chore on her to-do list for the day.

  With one more scan of the empty road, she swung in and started down the drive, a cloud of dust billowing behind her. When she reached his house, she circled around to the back, as Joe had instructed. The modest dwelling opened to a large field in the rear and on one side, and she parked between a storage shed and a detached garage. From here, her car would be completely hidden from the road, as he’d promised.

  Picking up the two small containers from the seat beside her, she verified the contents were still in good shape, then nestled them in the top of her shoulder bag. She also gave her upswept do one more quick spray. Extra precautions never hurt. Her meticulous attention to detail was why she could pull off feats the average person would fumble. Dealing with Erika and Joe in such a short time frame wasn’t ideal, but she’d planned every facet of both jobs with scrupulous thoroughness. Even if the timing raised eyebrows, there was no way anyone could pin either of the “accidents” on her.

  Just like the authorities had never been able to link Alena’s disappearance to any of them.

  This would be no different.

  Tote bag over her shoulder, she slid out of the car. As she retrieved a plastic grocery bag and the Styrofoam cooler the gourmet shop had packed for her, the back door of the house opened.

  A rail-thin, round-shouldered man wearing glasses stepped out, and she froze, lungs locked.

  Had she misread the number and turned in at the wrong house?

  The man shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and sent her a mirthless grin. “Hello, Jessica. I guess the years have been kinder to some of us than others.”