Wilson gripped the top of her shirt, bunching the material in a nervous manner. “Dennis was a good friend of Frank’s. So was Ken.”
“We’re going to need to know their last names if you—”
“Smith and Campbell. Dennis has passed on, though. Ken is in a nursing home in town here. Not sure how helpful he’ll be. Alzheimer’s has left him stripped of dignity. He was a good man. It’s not fair what happens to us when we get older.”
Paige offered a sincere smile. She didn’t like to think about the future and what it held. She preferred living in the now and experiencing all that life brought her way. “Thank you for your time.”
The woman reached for the lever on her chair and seemed to spring from the seat to a standing position. While age may have affected her mind, it didn’t limit her mobility.
“Not really sure how much help I was, but it was nice having company.” She squeezed Paige’s arm.
The contact made Paige think of her own mother, and, in turn, her father. She had a good relationship with them, it just wasn’t cultivated often. She was busy on the road a lot with her job. Her parents had their clubs and interests that kept their time occupied. It had been at least six months since she saw them. She had only spoken to them via e-mail once or twice. It was pretty sad as they only lived a half hour away.
Paige pulled on the door handle of the SUV and got inside. “Curious why you used your hocus pocus trick. I thought it only worked on victims who escaped brushes with death or a life-changing situation.”
Zach put the key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life. “The process can be used to bring back anything from a traumatic situation. Her life may not have been threatened, but her way of life was. While she was used to police dragging her husband off on assault charges, murder was a new one. She was likely contemplating if she would have been the next victim. Either way—”
“I get it. Traumatic.” Paige smiled. “Well, now we know a couple things. We need to find a guy from the seventies nicknamed Ladies’ Man and speak to Ken Campbell.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be a fun day, that’s for sure.”
“Sure, if that’s how you see it.” Paige laughed. Her mind was no longer occupied with Brandon and their relationship, or lack thereof. It didn’t matter—it was what it was, and she would be fine.
The onboard system notified them of a voice mail message.
They had their cell phones on them, but a third was always connected to the SUV. Paige found it strange the caller used that one and not the phones they carried.
Zach hit play. Jack’s voice filled the car.
Chapter 26
The shovel was heavy in his hands. His purpose never clearer. He needed to let the FBI know he was in charge. He would show them he was someone to fear and not take lightly.
He dug around the body and small quakes ran through him. His eyes kept drifting to where Nina had been laid to rest—where she had escaped from.
He had the urge to make the sign of the cross but held off, his mind judging him. How could he believe himself pure when he did the things he did—and where had such a silly notion sprung from?
But the women—the whores—deserved everything that came their way. He had come to accept that. They willingly offered themselves as pieces of flesh to be taken advantage of, to be fed off of, by men whose carnal desires penetrated any supposed boundary of matrimony.
You are worthless. The voice barked at him from the shadows.
The wind blew, bringing a chill that gripped the back of his neck.
What are you doing?
Do you want to get caught?
Stupid idiot!
“Shut up!” He stopped working the shovel and rested his hand on its handle as he swept the surrounding area with a flashlight. He wouldn’t see anything, but every time the voice spoke, he wondered if the outcome would change if he searched hard enough. He asked himself many times how he would react if he saw it there—the source of the voice. While he convinced himself he could handle whatever it was, he knew he’d buckle in strength and fortitude. He wouldn’t have the willpower to carry on doing what he did. He would fail the voice. The voice must know this, and, therefore, kept in hiding, taunting him from the darkness.
Go back to the girl and show her you’re a man.
Why are you doing this?
The voice called out to him, now questioning his actions, wanting an accounting. If he refused to acknowledge it, the inquiry would transform to a demand. It would insist on being told why he was doing this, why he had the need to unbury the dead but he would tell it nothing.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, despite the cool bite in the evening air. He stood there, looking down at the head he had revealed.
He lifted the shovel a few feet from the ground. Ironically, despite having been digging with it, the very tip of the steel shone. He came down on her neck with the force of his full strength.
Resistance traveled back through the handle—metal on bone.
His stomach heaved when expected to see her head, separated from her body, but it was still attached, albeit barely. He would have to come down on it at least one more time with equal power.
He raised the shovel, the tip no longer shining in the cast of his flashlight. It was stained red.
Bile rose in his throat, but he suppressed it.
What are you doing?
The voice proceeded to laugh at him.
You are a loser. You are not—
He cut the voice off with a scream as he wielded the shovel into the sweet spot that had once been her neck. With the pressure applied, her cords severed, and her head rolled free and to the side.
He vomited on the ground beside it.
He ran the back of his left hand across his mouth. Chunks of stomach contents were now lodged in his nostrils, and the smell of it nearly drove him to a repeat performance. But he got it under control and bent down beside the freed head.
He stared at it, partially in denial that this had been his work. This would be his first for this, but would it be his last? Even he didn’t know the answer to that question.
He lifted the head from the long strands of hair and dangled it there. Blood dripped at the source of the trauma, along with cords and veins.
His stomach tossed, but he stifled the overwhelming need to vomit again with a gut-wrenching scream.
Chapter 27
The news Jack had given them repeated in Paige’s mind. They could have their guy.
Nadia had found out that Wesley Keyes, Brad’s father, owned a trucking company that had been in business from 1965 until late 2005 and held contracts with local meat vendors. According to the information on the business, they offered refrigerated trailers and targeted their marketing to butchers. They even went so far as to mention meat hooks. Wesley had passed away years ago, but a background on Brad Keyes showed a cabin north of Dumfries registered in his name. It was conveniently close to Phillips’s property where the remains of Nina Harris were discovered.
Jack and Brandon were posted outside of Fitness Guru waiting on the warrants to come through for the gym, Keyes’s house, and the secondary property.
Agents outside of the cabin described it as appearing vacant. They said the curtains were drawn, and there were no vehicles in the driveway.
When Paige and Zach filled Jack in about how they made out at Wilson’s, they were told to continue on to see Ken Campbell at the retirement home. They had a photograph of Wesley Keyes to show to him.
The woman behind the front counter at the home smiled at them until the realization must have hit that they were cops. Her expression then contorted into a scowl, and her arms crossed over her bosom, tugging on the fabric of her pink nursing uniform which was already a tight fit. Her skin was black, and her eyes darker than midnight.
“What do y’all want here?”
Paige glanced at Zach and enlarged her eyes.
“I’m right here. I did see what you just did. No cops in he
re. It upsets some of our patients.”
They both held up their credentials in unison.
“Ef-bi-ai.” The nurse drew out the acronym, assigning it a lower ranking than local law enforcement.
“We’re here to visit Ken Campbell.” Paige slipped her creds back into her pants pocket. Her hand barely brushed her holster. The woman didn’t miss it. She let out a puff of air and tightened her arms.
“What business do y’all have with Ken?”
“That is a private matter, and it is rather urgent that we talk with him.”
“My name’s Ester, and I run this home. I can’t have cops coming in here and disturbing the peace. I hardly believe a seventy-year-old man can help with any investigation you have going. The man’s all but mostly lost his mind.”
“I can appreciate you’re trying to protect those under your care, but freedom of rights is in effect here, is it not?” Paige paused, but Ester said nothing. “We have the right to speak with Ken Campbell, and he has the right to talk with us.”
Ester jutted her hip to the right. “He also has the right not to talk with you.”
“Let him make up his mind. We’ll be right here waiting for him.”
“Oh, no. He’s not coming to you.” She looked past Paige to Zach. “Follow me.”
Jack and I sat outside of Fitness Guru. Brad’s Kia was parked out front, and, when we called the gym, we were told he was in. The girl put us on hold to get him, and we hung up. I didn’t understand why we weren’t making a move. This was our guy, or at least it seemed like it on paper.
Here we were sweating in the SUV, the AC doing little to offset the beating sun—something that shouldn’t be a problem for mid-September. To make it worse, Jack lit up his second cigarette. The smoke hovered in the air and formed an ominous fog around his face.
“You ever think of quitting?”
Jack took another pull on the cigarette and let the smoke draw out on a steady exhale.
“You are going to give me lung cancer.”
He tapped the ash into the tray. “Worried about me or you?” He drew on the death stick again.
“Both of us, actually, truth be told. Every day I go home saturated in nicotine. It leaves a slimy coating on my skin that, sometimes, I fear a shower won’t even remove.”
Jack laughed. “You’re whining.”
“Come on. Look at the pack.”
“Hmm.”
“Amuse me.”
Jack pulled the pack from his shirt pocket and tossed it in my direction. I caught it before it landed in my lap. I started reading without giving it much thought. “‘May complicate pregnancy.’”
Why did I start with the last item?
I didn’t glance over at Jack but heard another pull and exhale of air. The waft of smoke burnt my sinuses.
“‘Smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema.’” I could tell I was losing the man. His attention was on the front doors of the gym. I continued. “You don’t want to be like Jed Chase. These things will kill you given time.”
“A lot of things will kill you Kid.” Jack got out of the SUV.
I should have known better than to show I had emotions or even a hint of affection for him. He was likely starting to view me as weak.
I got out and rounded the back of the SUV to take up position beside him.
“Thought you’d prefer I smoke outside. Then you follow me.”
“Since when do you listen to me?”
“You know, you speak your mind an awful lot.”
“I thought I was paid to do so, to express an opinion, to—”
“Keep your thoughts focused on the case and off me.” Jack stayed leaning up against the SUV and took another pull on the cigarette.
“I don’t understand why you get like this. Every time I try to talk to you about your personal—”
“That’s the problem right there.” Jack extinguished the glowing butt with a twist of his shoe. “It’s not your concern.”
I let out a deep breath. It was the same every time. I didn’t even know why I kept trying. Paige tried to tell me Jack’s problem was he cared too much. At times like this, I wondered if he cared at all. His focus was aligned on a track, closed cases being his target. He didn’t allow himself to get detoured or delayed along the way. No, that would add complications to an otherwise set lifestyle he had going—keep everything business.
Jack got back into the SUV. No sooner had he closed the door than he opened it.
We had our warrant.
Chapter 28
Ester knocked on the door frame of room number eighteen. “Mr. Campbell? It’s Ester.” She waited a few seconds, and, when there was no response, she said, “Mr. Campbell, I’m coming in.” She turned to Paige and Zach. “You two stay here.”
She tucked her hands into the pockets of her shirt and headed into the room. “You have visitors.”
Paige heard a deep moan and a man’s voice that had a low register, making it hard to understand and hear from a distance.
“Yes, they are with the ef-bi-ai.”
Paige rolled her eyes at Zach who went cross-eyed and smiled at her. It was one of the things she liked about him. He had the mind of a genius but held onto the maturity level of a college student.
“All right, he’ll see you, but if you upset him, know I’ll be in the hall and back in jiffy if need be.” Ester brushed past them.
The room only had enough space for a dresser, a single bed, and two chairs. An older television sat on top of the dresser at the end of the bed. Paige couldn’t help but think how the reward for living to old age was coming to a place like this and waiting to die.
Ken Campbell sat in a wheelchair, positioned in the corner of the room. His head was full of wiry silver strands of hair, complete with wild sideburns. A blue blanket lay draped over his lap, and a pair of prescription glasses dangled from a chain and rested against his chest. He held a paperback in his hands and looked up at them. He smiled at Paige. She gathered from the glaze in his eyes he was lost in a memory. It was possible he confused her with someone else. Barbara Wilson had mentioned Alzheimer’s robbed his mind.
“Hi Mr. Campbell. I’m Paige Dawson, and this is Zachery Miles. We’re agents of the FBI.”
He dropped his book and stared at her.
“We have some questions and think you may be able to help us.” Paige moved closer to him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Zach came in behind her and sat on a chair near Campbell.
Campbell’s nearly non-existent eyebrows pinched down over his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Mr. Campbell, that is Zachery Miles. He is with me.”
His head turned in her direction. “Who are you?”
The only thing Paige believed may be their saving factor was that Alzheimer’s patients could typically remember things further in the past easier than more recent events. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her smartphone, brought up the picture of Wesley Keyes, and extended it to the man.
Campbell reached for the technology that he predated by a few decades and held it in his hands as if it were a foreign object. He let go of his grip on it, and Paige was thankful she had kept hers in place. He pulled up the glasses he wore around his neck. Paige noted he wasn’t wearing them before—he had been pretending to read.
“We were speaking with Barbara Wilson.” Paige held back the urge to ask if he remembered her. From her limited dealing with Alzheimer’s patients, she recognized the question as offensive and, depending on his memory, could initiate a defensive response which wouldn’t get them anywhere.
He tipped his head back and gazed through the smudged glasses that sat down on his nose like Geppetto in the fictional tale of Pinocchio. “I remember Barb.”
Paige smiled at him, hoping it would encourage him to continue talking.
“Nice woman. Pretty little thing too.” He leaned in toward Paige. “Don’t tell Frank I said that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
She winked a
t him. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He reached for the phone Paige held. “Now who is this?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
“Ain’t never seen him.” He handed the phone back to her.
Again, it was another delicate position. To press him could make him shut down completely, to leave it could mean useful information went unheard. She opted for silence, and, after a few seconds, Campbell broke it.
“I can tell the way you’re looking at me.” He pointed a finger at her, his hand waving unsteadily from age and loss of motor functions. “You think I’ve plum lost my mind. Well, there are days I believe it.” He took his glasses off and let them dangle from the chain. “I’d lose them if they weren’t attached, and there are some moments I do anyway. That man,” he pointed to the phone, “is not someone I know.” His eyes rose to Paige. The old man believed what he told her.
Paige nodded. So, he didn’t know Wesley Keyes. “What about Ladies’ Man? Does that—”
“Oh my, I haven’t heard that one in a long time.” Ken’s eyes reflected deep thought.
“I take it you know him, and this is not his photo?”
“No.” The older man’s tone took on a deeper register. “I’d never forget ol’ Steve. Not ever. He could have any woman he wanted in his day.” Ken let out a whistle. “He’d have you begging for an evening out with him.” He gestured to Zach. “He’d give you a runnin’ for your money.”
Paige smiled at Zach who returned it. Ken Campbell had truly lost his mind and had likely already forgotten they were the FBI and not a couple. There was no need to correct him as long as he kept talking. “Steve?”
His tone turned aggressive and suspicious. “What do you want with Steve?”
“We are looking for an old friend. Do you know a last name?”
His eyes glazed over and pinched narrow. “No.”
Paige slipped the phone back into a pocket and got up. “Thank you for your help.”
“If he were an old friend of yours, wouldn’t you know his last name?” Campbell adjusted his blanket. His eyes clouded over and went distant, but he appeared at peace.
Silent Graves (Brandon Fisher FBI Series) Page 12
